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wordsandrobots · 1 year

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IBO reference notes on . . . actual, proper original characters

Someone asked if I had a cheat-sheet for the OCs in Wishing on Space Hardware and I realised I did not, but it would be an extremely good thing to have. So here we are.

This covers the characters who are wholly original and not based (even inadvertently) on extras in the series itself – you can find those here instead. Though, saying that, I have included Gabriela here as well because the character model I used is a literal baby, so doesn’t really count.

I didn’t cover absolutely everyone, but all the main recurring OCs are covered plus a couple I’m just rather fond of.

One note – I'm writing these for the time period extending from The Ares Affair onward, which is P.D. 333, ten years on from the start of Iron-Blooded Orphans proper. Since my stories cover a lot of the intervening time, their ages will vary depending on which one you're reading.

Now for a spoiler-preventing cut in case you want to go into the the fics blind!

Civilians

Sri Chaifin

AKA Eugene's Awful Girlfriend (according to Yamagi)

Profession: Treasure hunter Archaeologist

At 27-28ish, she's older than most of Tekkadan would be at this point. Of Indonesian descent, with straight black hair worn in a bob-cut, palish skin, twinkling brown eyes (Eugene's description) and dimples. Generally quite mischievous, sly or sarcastic of expression. Pretty tall: she's on the edge of six foot, only a little shorter than Eugene. Slim and leggy. Usually dresses in practical, hard-wearing clothes; can be persuaded into a suit to schmooze with potential contacts but will not like it.

Primary distinguishing mark is the failed Alaya-Vijnana at the base of her neck. Caused by a loss of nano-machine cohesion rather than outright rejection, it's left her with a vestigial whisker – a series of hook-like protrusions mingling skin and metal – an extreme nerve damage. Reprogramming the nano-machines and infusing more restored her mobility, however, and she can use the not-quite-a-whisker as a machine interface albeit in a more limited sense than a functional A-V system.

Definitely not as mercenary and selfish as she behaves. Genuinely cares about the history she's dedicated her life to uncovering. Probably smart enough not to unleash killer robots on everybody.

Eldin 'Doc' Chaifin

Profession: Medical cyberneticist

In eir fifties, as tall as eir adopted daughter and twice as broad. Golden brown skin that's seen a lot of Martian weather. Gey dreadlocks worn wound up on eir head. Utterly unflappable. Projects an aura of not giving a shit, but has an excellent bedside manner, especially for kids who've had important limbs blown off.

Some skeletons in the closet, and not just the unethical experimentation on people who've had bad reactions to Alaya-Vijnana surgery. Widely trusted to give care to any who need it, background, affiliation or convictions be damned. Religiously observant: ey attend temple services weekly. Possibly started out in a wealthy family but if so, ey haven't had anything to do with them for years.

Principled, blunt and fair. Loves Sri deeply, which is reciprocated despite a lot of mutual exasperation. Accent tends vaguely Scottish. 'Chaifin' is a made up name, in grand Gundam tradition.

Victor Handa

Profession: Plumber, community organiser, workers' rights activist

One of the many people to lose family in the Dort Riots, Victor exemplifies the colony inhabitants' resilience in the face of the massacre. Taking it as a sign that things need to change drastically and hyper-aware of the backsliding by the Dort Company since the initial awarding of increased rights, he has fought for improvements ever since.

Stocky, of mixed Japanese and Moroccan heritage, and perpetually unable to grow a decent beard, he is a mainstay of efforts to build a sustainable alternative to Company control. While generally softly-spoken, he is driven by a great deal of righteous anger at the injustice of the world as it currently stands. Reliably found at the forefront of strikes and marches, and if not there, then doing work behind the scenes to make such collective action possible.

A staunch pacifist, he is sharply at odds with Otta, his adoptive sister. That said, he holds no ill-will towards her and appreciates the lengths she goes to in order to keep her activities away from his.

Ilyana Sevenstark

Profession: Technically a PA?

A short woman of Indian descent with light brown skin and black hair, which is usually held back with a silver clasp of plain design. Holds herself stiff and awkwardly. Often gives the impression that she'd prefer to be elsewhere, mostly because she would, especially if elsewhere involves less human interaction.

A child of misfortune. Having lost her parents in a debris zone, she was left in the care of one of their old shipmates, scraping a living on Jupiter Gamma. With only an ancient drone to call friend, she dreamed of striking it rich and escaping to a better life. Eventually taking destiny into her own hands, she snuck aboard the Saisei in search of a job with one of the big-time salvage crews, but only narrowly avoided serious harm at the hands of the worst Teiwaz has to offer. Following this, she was taken in by Nikolai Critchlow – one of the conglomerate's financial chiefs – and was set to work managing his collection of ancient relics.

While not the worst use for her eidetic memory and technical skill, she chafes at living as Critchlow's indentured assistant and still hopes for a big score that will set her free.

Rachida Phiri

Profession: Member of the African Union ruling council

A very tall and grand Nigerian lady, I introduced her with long black hair done in box braids but she certainly changes styles often. This is not personal vanity; she is an adroit politic operator and tailors her appearance precisely to whatever it is required for her position, be that following the latest trend or adhering to a long-standing tradition.

Charming, sociable and warm, her family has been in politics for decades. Has at least one uncle who was in a position of power during the Dort Riots and likely a whole heap more relatives among the movers and shakers of her bloc. Takes her position very seriously, being a 'good' councillor in the sense of always putting the African Union's interests first.

A consummate player of the game of geopolitics.

Oliver Tang

Profession: Martian Union representative for the Noachis Region; Minister for Science

A crusty, craggy gentleman. Middle-aged, extremely experienced with politics, cynical as all get-out but with a strain of optimism running through it that aligns well with Kudelia's aims for Mars. Not always strictly an ally, he has nevertheless acted as a mentor and advisor to her.

Oliver greatly admires Kudelia, considering her to be hope for the future of the system he's helping build. Has been part of the independence movement since at least the Noachis July Assembly and helped push for greater autonomy within his home region. Following the formation of the Union, he continues to represent that region's interests and has garnered a reputation of being stubborn, obstinate, but ultimately reasonable when it comes to matters of the public good.

One of the few fellow politicians who can sincerely be counted among Kudelia's friends.

The Turbines/Arca Defence Solutions

Claire Metz

Profession: Mobile suit pilot

Formerly a crewmember on one of the Turbines' many freighters, Claire transferred to work directly under Azee's command following the restructuring of the group after Naze's death. Initially a trainee pilot, she is coming into her own as an active combatant.

A slim black woman of about thirty-five, slightly above average height, she has a somewhat downcast personality but can be relied upon to keep her head in a crisis. A competitive streak means she has strong feelings about family board-game nights.

Gabriela Turbine

Profession: Wannabe mobile suit pilot

At sixteen, Gabriela is one of Naze's oldest children. A frizzy-haired ball of chaos hiding behind a very unconvincing sweet-and-innocent act, she wants nothing more than to follow in Amida's footsteps and fly mobile suits for a living. Puts most of her brothers to shame in terms of work-ethic, and probably a bit too brave for her own good.

The loss of her father and so much of her immediate family casts a shadow over her life. As much as she tries to ignore it, there's no denying a lot of her actions are driven by wanting to live up to those who are no longer around.

Barrett 'Barry' Turbine

Profession: Teenager

The splitting image of Naze, which is about where the resemblance stops. Absent-minded, non-confrontational and shy, Barry would far rather spend his time painting his nails (or indeed anyone else's) than on the family business. While he doesn't resent pitching in, it's clear he's far from a born spacer and even his mother, Ria, isn't sure there's a place for him in Teiwaz's transport divison.

One day he'll figure out what he wants to do with his life. Until then, it's probably best not to let him loose on any heavy machinery.

The Colonial Liberation Movement

Otta

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable)

Otta would be unremarkable in appearance if she didn't shave her hair down to show off the constellation patterns tattooed on the sides of her head (these reflect stars visible from her home colony of Dort Four). Also the perpetual air of restrained violence sets her apart from the crowd.

Of medium height and build, with fairly dark brown skin (darker than Victor, at least) and a piercing stare, Otta is a blunt and forthright. Having lost her parents to police violence during the Dort Riots, she is dedicated to freeing the space colonies and prepared to use any means necessary to achieve that goal.

In the absence of the firepower necessary to challenge Earth directly, she seeks to chip away at Gjallarhorn's control of outer-space, wrecking both their reputation and public support with acts of terrorism. To this end, she's been building alliances with other groups, including a certain set of Martian radicals.

Saji Watts

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable), mobile suit pilot

A scrawny space-rat who worked for a private military company on Mars before it suffered unexpected losses while running security on an archaeological dig, Saji was paid to infiltrate the Martian Union Military to facilitate a mobile suit theft. Though he didn't initially believe that strongly in the cause of the dissidents who hired him, he has come to enjoy fighting alongside them.

Serves as a backup combat pilot for Ride's group, using one of the Leopard-type 'suits that he helped steal. Cheerful and prone to bragging, he fits in well with the ex-Tekkadan members.

Joshua Riva

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable), hacker

Small, slight, pretty, with blonde ringlets and big eyes, Joshua looks like he wouldn't say boo to a goose. Actually, he'd probably scream if confronted with live poultry of any kind. But his strengths show when he's behind a keyboard, hacking his way through cyber-security measures like there's no tomorrow.

Fell in with Otta several years ago, as a fellow orphan of the Riots and hater of the status quo. His skills have been invaluable to her cause, as have his connections to other like-minded hackers across the Earth-sphere.

Gjallarhorn

Almandi Iverson

Rank: Resource Major

Profession: Manipulative bastard Mobile suit engineer

Honestly could be mistaken for Yamagi if you squinted really hard while their hair was dyed blonde. But where Yamagi's looks trend more, um, Japanese pop star (seriously, have you seen his original concept art??), Iverson is overtly Nordic in appearance. Medium height, wavy hair (naturally brunet), narrow features, pale white skin, a sharp nose, thin mouth, ice-blue eyes. Also pin-point perfect make-up at all times: Iverson aims deliberately for androgyny, the better to meet expectations.

Age-wise, they're approaching their forties, if not already there. Physically, they are never an imposing presence but can project authority when required. Their rank of 'resource major' is a lesser one than that of a Regulatory Bureau major or an Inspection Bureau specialist major, but they are take care to be indispensable to their superiors, to even out the difference. Recklessly brave when it comes to things they're interested in.

A friendly veneer and a professional attitude cover a deeply cynical personality. Iverson cares only about fulfilling their own objectives and will do and say anything to get their way. When they don't, expect their temper to show, quick, nasty and vindictive.

Atticus Briar

Profession: Power systems engineer

A big, jolly man, Mediterranean in appearance – possibly Greek? A friendly presence and a people person, enthusiastically working his project teams as ridiculously hard as he works himself. Something of a prodigy in his youth. Continued down the pure research track while Iverson – his peer and someone he assumed to be his friend – went into project management.

Also, Briar is trans. I don't know if that came through in Of Obsessions and Erotemes, but I'm planning to make it explicit later. This is one of the reasons he thought he'd made a genuine connection with Iverson. Sadly, he wasn't politically savvy enough to realise they were just using him.

Was genuinely crushed by the betrayal, having believed he'd found a kindred spirit. There are too few of those in Gjallarhorn.

Pelle Torvalds

Rank: First Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

Looks like a retired Viking. Burly, bearded and gruff. Dirty-blonde hair turning iron-grey. Good belly laugh. Excellent drinking buddy. A very pleasant person to be around, if you're in the same kind of military culture.

Also has absolutely done lots of shady shit on behalf of Gjallarhorn, some of which haunts him to this day and some of which is shrugged off as just being part of the The Job. No, those categories do not map neatly on to the things he should, ethically speaking, feel bad about. Less tormented by his past than thoroughly tired of it. Chose to be a test pilot in order to try something new that wouldn't send him back into old patterns.

Cares a lot about his comrades, without being overly expressive about it.

Ahmed Fahim

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

A young Turkish man of medium height and indifferent build, who insists on wearing a cap at all times unless ordered not to. He frequently gives the impression of being bored by everything or actively asleep. Then he gets behind the controls of a mobile suit and turns into hell on legs.

Ahmed is one of the most naturally talented pilots in a generation. By rights he should be serving in the Arianrhod Fleet or another of the elite units. But his father was implicated as responsible for the shuttle crash that killed the old Lord Kujan (Iok's dad) and his family's honour and reputation were irrevocably tarnished. He was relegated to a regional support base until Iverson recruited him.

At this point, his ambitions don't extend far beyond doing what he's good at for as long as possible.

Mackenzie Croft

Rank: Captain

Profession: Test pilot

An English-descended bruiser, basically distaff-Dante? She's from Jupiter and I head-canon he is as well so . . . yeah. A big, muscly women with close-cropped red hair, square features, and a deep-seated brittleness to her personality. Her self-worth is bound up with having gotten a place in Gjallarhorn after being born out of an affair between an officer and a Jupiter 'commoner'. She was allowed in, like Ein, on the basis of the family connection and has struggled with prejudice and her own hot temper getting her into trouble.

Iversion pulled strings to get her assigned, making her captain of the test pilots because they assumed she'd be easy to control. Her fear over losing her privileged position makes her quick to turn on anyone who threatens the stability of the operation.

She should be more sympathetic than she is, but sadly she is more likely to lash out than understand she's being used against people she should be making common cause with. So it goes.

Lowri Lin

Rank: First Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

Short, compact, slightly sallow-featured, with mid-length black hair she keeps tied back, in her late thirties. The fundamental joke regarding the case of mistaken identity between her and Sri is that there is absolutely no way they could be confused for one another if you stood them side by side. Her name (which I realise I have previously been misspelling) is Welsh and so she probably is as well.

Rather quiet even before events caused her to become disillusioned with Gjallarhorn, she prefers to play with cards than engage in conversion. Bonding with the other Goibniu pilots has brought her a little out of her shell and allowed her to revisit her true passion in life: being a teacher. She tends to use unexpected tactics for mobile suit combat, which puts her ahead of the rest in mock-battles.

There is a lot going on under the surface. The displacement card-playing and Lin's quiet compliance with Iverson masks a growing resentment that is gradually blossoming into full-blown rebellion.

Kipchoge Ordsley

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

A few years younger than Shino and looks younger still. His mother is Kenyan and his dad was African-American; has very dark skin, very gangly limbs, and generally resembles an enthusiastic scarecrow. Possessed of a sweet, open face on account of being a sweet, open kid. Keeps his hair cut short though never totally shaven off.

Eager to please, happy to be here, talks way too loud, way too much. Underneath that, though, he's acutely aware of his shortcomings as a member of Gjallarhorn and, increasingly, of Gjallarhorn's shortcomings. Has wanted to fly mobile suits since he was very little and is low-key willing to do anything to keep hold of the chance at doing so. His conscience and empathy put hard limits on that attitude, however (along with some other things hardly worth mentioning here).

The goof of the bunch before Shino came along. Then there were two goofs.

#Gundam Iron-blooded Orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #Tekketsu no Orphans #fanfic #AO3 fanfic #My fic #reference #notes #OCs #original characters

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cursed-ever-to-wander · 2 years

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Dragonseeker Nox, part I

First of three parts detailing Nox’s life during the Age of Fire and beyond... Abridged and does not include the entirety of her antics, obviously, just the key points

Humble Beginnings

Nox, and she doesn’t actually remember if this is her birth-name or just something that stuck, hails from Vinheim and once upon a time was a student of sorcery at the Dragon School. Not a stellar one, mind me; barely scrapping by is more like it. However, her studies did lead to her first death among the thousands when she attempted to combine self-taught pyromancy with sorcery in an attempt to recreate a glimpse of the fabled and lost fire sorceries. It... backfired.

Exiled and Hunted

Soon enough discovered as an Undead, she was promptly kicked out of the Dragon School and by extension the entire Vinheim, marking the start of her troublesome journey across the world. For obvious reasons not particularly welcomed by people, she eventually was sent to the Northern Undead Asylum, spending unknown amount of time there, slowly hollowing out, before being eventually rescued by Oscar. By this point, however, in an attempt to keep herself whole, Nox started to slightly obsess over dragons.

To the Land of Gods

Upon arriving to Lordran Nox sets her eyes on meeting Paledrake Seath and mostly works toward this goal, while assisting Solaire in his journey of the Chosen Undead. She eventually makes good friends with Laurentius and gets taught actual pyromancy, most likely leaving the poor man either fascinated or horrified by what she managed to figure out on her own. She eventually ends up preferring pyromancy to her, still present, sorcery skills.

As for other people and... not entirely people, she generally gets along with others at the Firelink pretty well, snatching her Dragonseeker moniker from good old sleepyhead Frampt the Kingseeker.

Shattered Dreams

Let’s pour one out for Nox’s hopes and dreams ending up completely shattered by her visit to the Duke. It could not be right, it should not be right, but the images Dragon School and her own imagination painted were a bit off compared to reality. Choosing denial and bargain over anything else Nox then sets her eyes on the elusive dream of finding any dragons that remain still in the world, studying any information to be found in the Duke’s Archives on the matter. The brief mentions of the Ash Lake send her exploring Blighttown, where she, despite never finding her goal, runs into Quelana, thus fully transitioning from an aspiring sorceress to prodigal pyromancer. And inadvertently, through a series of seemingly unrelated events, saves Solaire’s life.

His Very Own Sun

As mentioned before, Nox was hardly the hero of the Chosen Undead story, Solaire happens to be, she however gladly dropped by for some jolly cooperation and just to check on how his life is going, this eventually leading to them challenging Gwyn together. And so next comes the Linking of the Fire, becoming Solaire’s eventual demise and yet another moment of hope coming crushing down for Nox. Leaving Kiln with the full intention to sue Frampt for the false advertising, she is unable to locate him and eventually, after some time passes, is left at the Firelink Shrine mostly alone, as everyone does move on.

Oh, Aimless Wanderer

She does as well, tagging along with Laurentius towards the Great Swamp, however she does not make it there, separating from him at some point. Her path eventually leads to taking revenge on those, who put her in the Northern Undead Asylum, but this is a whole other story...

#dark souls #soulsborne #chosen undead #dragonseeker and usurper #annals of history #i am skipping here a ton of heartbreaking stuff #with her and priscilla #or her and Fair Lady #or her and sif oh god #i am not sure if she meets kaathe personally #perhaps #but well also i am skipping some funny stuff #although most comedy comes from nox being not particularly intelligent and very reckless

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spoilertv · 8 months

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#SpoilerTV

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okaybutlikeimagine · 3 years

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A Father’s Day Triptych

TW: past/referenced child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, child neglect

(you can find it on AO3 here ♥)

Father’s day in the Hargrove household was always pulled taut with expectations of kindness and submission hanging over Billy’s head.

They didn’t always used to be that way. When he was a kid, Father’s days felt like a reprieve rather than a burden. Billy and his mom would prepare special things- a nice card that would make him laugh, those new fishing poles he’d been eyeing in the big sporting store a town over, a pretty cake with fresh fruit on top from the grocer down the way. His mother went all out. She’d get Billy all excited for it too. The strenuous relationships were softened for a day where they did everything they could to make him happy.

They really did… everything they could just to make him happy. Sometimes Billy still wonders why it had to take so much.

Around Father’s day, his mother would use all her spending money to make his father smile. It usually worked. And for that day, it was so good. It could hardly get better. Grilling and watching stupid baseball games Billy never cared about but would pretend to be interested in, just for him. Fake smiles almost became real. Hot dogs and hamburgers and watermelon always tasted better on those days when his father would put his arm around Billy amicably- when he would laugh at the card and compliment how Billy’s penmanship was getting better every year.

The year that she left was the worst.

The year that she left Billy stopped getting an allowance. He had no money to soften the edges of his father with fresh cakes and fancy presents. He panicked. He stole a stupid fishing keychain from a store and made a card from his school notebook paper. He presented them with shaking hands to his father who seemed glued to the couch, eyes bloodshot, surrounded by beer cans, baseball game so loud Billy’s ears felt sore.

He got a grunt and a lazy eye roll in response. A slurred groan of “your writing is sloppy”. A quieter admission of regret.

He got resentment. Billy was 9 and he knew it was resentment towards his very existence. He slid away to his room. There was no dinner to eat that night as his father passed out on the couch with the TV still on far too loud.

When Susan and Max came into the picture, Billy miraculously found a reason to be happy for it. Suddenly there was pressure taken off of him. He let Max know it too, as Susan encouraged them to go out and “at least get him a card”. They’d lazily look through all the forcibly funny and generic pieces of paper. Max was nervous that first year.

“It’s whatever.” Billy had grunted, looking through ugly green cards with stupid phrases on them. “She’s gonna bang him tonight, he won’t care about a dumb card.”

“Ew.” Max had whined, covering her ears and pouting. Billy couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It was never fun. Billy felt like he was on a leash all day long, obligated to do everything he could for his father just to keep him civil. Susan made a steak, the kids handed over the card, his father remarked how his penmanship was the mark of someone lazy and sloppy (no matter how hard Billy would try to make it as neat as he possibly could), and the day would end. And he could stop thinking about how this man still had a hand in his life.

…

Father’s day in the Hopper household was always bumbling and awkward.

By the time that first one came around, Billy was just beginning to feel less like a burden to the house and more like an addition. He’d found comfort in the space they all shared. They had a sort of routine set between all of them. There was still no second bed for Billy, so he still felt like he was imposing when Hop slept on the couch, but it was a sort of pull out couch by that point and Hop insisted and Billy decided not to pay it too much mind.

And that first Father’s day was just… awkward. Billy had completely forgotten the date- summer had just started for him and days were rolling by in hot and languid and lazy moments of feeling out every new situation. He had just started getting really serious with Steve. Not just touching for the sake of getting off but really starting to need and want each other in ways that scared him. In ways that made him want to keep things how they were- ways that made him scared to change a thing. It was a new and alien feeling for him.

El had inadvertently learned about Father’s day from Mike when he briefly groaned about dinner plans his family had. Billy found that out from El on their drive to the store to pick something up for Hop. She had to convince Billy it was a thing they should do, because Hopper was their father. He did fatherly things for them. He took them in and gave them a roof and food and asked how their days were and wished them goodnight and good morning, however groggily. He made stupid jokes that made them moan and he danced horribly to the old records he kept on their dusty shelf and he was horrible with laundry and he whistled as he did dishes.

He introduced Billy proudly in the grocery store once. It was the weekend after Billy had a really good basketball game that Hop had decided to attend. Hop bragged about it to some friend of his. Billy flushed red and elbowed him and tried his best to escape.

He thought about it every single day.

Billy and El bought a large cheesy balloon, ingredients to make a nice lasagna dinner, and a green and white cake from the bakery. The balloon was more for El. The lasagna was a little burnt. Hop was too nice to say he’d have preferred pie to cake, but he ate it anyway as they sat around the TV and watched whatever program was on. Billy only remembered as he fell slowly into sleep that night. He jolted awake quickly, remembering a sort of far off conversation months ago where Hop had proclaimed confidently that pie was the superior dessert of anything else- yes, even Eggo's with whipped cream and sprinkles. How he admitted cake was never his favorite.

Billy felt shame overcome him as he remembered, pushing himself out of bed and turning to the sofa with the immediate want to apologize for it. He wasn’t sure what came over him.

But instead of sending pleading apologies into the darkness, he just looked towards the sofa with a heavily beating heart and let his eyes adjust. And he thought about all that man had done for the two of them. Thought about how he took in these two stray kids. Thought about how he knew Hop was getting flack for it, because Billy heard the whispers and the snickers and the sneers about Hop running a dog pound. Thought about how he gave up his probably comfier trailer for the rundown cabin, gave up the main bedroom for the dusty spare bed, gave up the dusty spare bed for the couch, gave up parts of his sanity probably…

Billy didn’t wanna apologize anymore. He just whispered a thanks, even though it was hard to push up through his throat and would fall onto sleeping ears.

The Father’s days after that first one got better. They got Joyce, and along with her 2 boys that had their own rocky past with fathers and celebrations of them. Just four kids who feared and resented father figures. It ended up being better than Billy could imagine. It was never quite as awkward as that first Father’s day, but never quite comfortable either. That being said, it was never a bad day. The bar was low, but that didn’t matter. Billy found appreciation for the general ease all the same.

…

Father’s day in the Hargrove-Harrington-”whatever we’re together now and that’s what’s most important” household is filled with guilt and feelings of imposter syndrome.

They don’t celebrate it the first two or so years after they’ve adopted their first child. He’s just a toddler, he doesn’t quite understand yet what it is. And they… they’re still struggling with what it means to be fathers. They’re confident in their rights but they’re not immune to the judgmental voices, always eyeing them oddly when they’re out together with their boy or asking after the mother when they’re out separately. Always looking a little judgmental or harsh when they have to explain why the kid doesn’t look like them- whoever is with him at the time. Or getting looks of pity when the people clearly begin to assume it’s because they couldn’t get pregnant with whatever wife must be at home.

It’s hard to hear. It makes them question everything. If their boy doesn’t know what he’s missing, then there’s no need to explain.

Billy calls Hopper and feels his heart lurch when Hop and Joyce wish him and Steve a happy father’s day. They do it with joy and certainty. As if it belongs to them, too. Billy hangs up the phone and lays in bed for at least half an hour. Steve can’t get through to him.

It’s an odd feeling. A rough feeling. When they adopt their second child, a girl of 9 years old, they know they’re going to have to confront it. Their son begins school that year too. They find out about the day from their friends and television ads and store windows. The children are timid with them- they were adopted as supposed “problem children” from rough homes and tumultuous pasts. Billy and Steve don’t expect anything of them but they’re still not sure how to explain that. They figure ignoring is easier than explaining. Maybe it’ll make it go away.

It doesn’t work well.

And Billy… Billy’s just struggling being a dad. He couldn’t explain the job if he tried. He helps make lunches, he gives timeouts, he buys and subsequently sneaks himself some silly little snack foods when he’s hungry and busy and doesn’t have time to do more than rip open a pouch. He deals with tantrums over vegetables and he wipes mouths with napkins and he sings lullabies in the wrong key and he reads bedtime stories until he himself dozes off in the tiny bed with a small head on his chest and drool pooling onto his shirt.

He’s trying. He gets frustrated at stores. He gets a little hot headed, a little loud. His heart breaks when they cry. He’s straddling the line between being a pushover and a hard-ass. He lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling, dreading ever becoming like Neil. He asks Steve, in the stillness of the night when the darkness acts as the weight of every horrible outcome imaginable, if he’ll follow Neil’s wretched footsteps.

“You’ll never be like him, Billy.”

“How do you know? What if it’s inside me already.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe it is… maybe I won’t be able to help it.”

He stresses and he struggles and he wants to rip his hair out.

But that first father’s day comes around with their new daughter and newly knowledgeable son. And the two children blunder around the kitchen while their two dads are asleep. And then they wake the two parents up, both teary eyed and breathing heavy, faces full of apology and sorrow, asking for help to clean up the mess.

And Billy and Steve find the kitchen a single step back from full on disaster. There’s juice all over the counter and dripping onto the floor, the cereal box is all soggy from it, the toaster is smoking, a plate is broken on the ground, the fridge is still open. Their daughter pulls on Billy’s pajama pants and holds out her finger that’s bleeding. He gets out of her that she somehow managed to cut it on the butter knife she was using to cut up some fruit.

Steve gets busy cleaning things up. He asks their son to help do smaller things like close the fridge and grab some towels.

Billy takes his daughter’s small soft hand into his large, rough one and plants a kiss on it. It sends something like pure love surging through his heart. He guides her to the bathroom to put a bandaid on it and asks if she’s okay.

“Mmhm.” She nods and his heart softens. She sniffles. “M’sorry. We wanted… wanted to make breakfast and w-wanted to do something nice.”

She sounds like the weight of the world is on her small shoulders. Billy sees himself at 9 years old, doing his damnedest to get anything close to a damn smile out of his father while he sat unresponsive and unamused on the couch.

His heart yearns. It breaks and it pulls and it screams and it shouts. He pulls her in close and hugs her tight and tries to find the right words. Tries to tell her it’s made his entire year. It’s made him feel validated and happy and worth it, like all of that stress is worth it just to know that these two children got up early as hell on a Sunday morning just to surprise their fathers. Just to surprise the two of them. Just to say they thought of them, wanted to give them something, wanted to make them feel special.

“It was nice.” Is all he can croak out through his froggy throat.

“It’s a mess.” She sobs, but he just grips her arms tighter.

“It was wonderful.” He says and he’s crying too. He can’t get the tears to stop. He’s kneeling on the bathroom ground, the two of them crying to each other.

And Billy swears he’ll never get good at the father thing. He has talks with Hop about it, when he’s feeling vulnerable and Hopper’s able to get it out of him. By this point they’ve adopted another child- an older boy, a teenager. He’s rough and he’s jaded. He listens to loud, angry music. He kind of picks on the other two kids, even though he’d jump in front of a bus for either one of them. Hop asks how he likes it.

“He’s a lot like you were, y’know.” Hop tells Billy, who still doesn’t really see it.

Steve doesn’t have as much of a problem with the boy as Billy does. Billy and him just never seem to see eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re the same people.” Hop insists. Steve agrees. Joyce affirms with pity. “You clash.”

They clash hard. They get into yelling matches. Billy never puts a hand on him, but the arguments aren’t exactly great. Billy cries to Steve at night, fear shaking him down to his core, still able to see and hear himself yelling at that boy who fights tooth and nail back with him.

“You’re not a bad person, Billy.”

“Why do I do that shit?” He asks, knowing full well no one but him could ever really know.

It’s not like it’s anything too vitriolic. It’s not like it’s anything really poisonous.

It’s over the fact that he stays out too late at night, and Billy gets worried. It’s the fact that Billy found cigarettes in his room and he knows the bad effects of cigarettes. It’s the fact that he pushed his little brother one day and made him scrape his knee and he needed to learn some boundaries. It’s the fact that he lied about his grades when Billy felt they gave him no reason to do such a thing.

It’s fatherly things. That’s what Hop assures him as Billy cries on the phone with him.

“It’s things I would have done with you.”

Billy never ever knows what to make of that. What to make of what he’d be like now if Hop was his father from the start. If Hop was there from the beginning. If Neil hadn’t made him a monster in his own image.

Billy does his best to get through to him. Get through to his son now because he’s his son now.

Billy feels like the worst, most undeserving father.

As the kids have gotten older, they learned better ways to celebrate father’s day. They learn breakfast in bed isn’t really what the two of them would prefer- a nice lunch and getting to spend some time with them sounds better. A homemade card always goes on the mantle or the fridge with the rest of the collection. A few hugs because those are like treasured gifts in this house with kids who have a history of boundary and trust issues with parental figures.

The older son catches Billy alone in the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Billy replies awkwardly back. The silence is jarring.

“I uh… uhm.” He’s struggling. Billy wants to do something more than just stand here, but he’s not sure what. He doesn’t want to push anything too far. He wants to be good at this.

The boy puts a small, wrapped box on the counter with an envelope underneath and slides it over.

“Happy Father's day.” He mumbles, suddenly fidgeting.

Billy stares at them.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

There’s another pause, heavy with all the weight and worry in Billy’s heart. He reaches for the box, rips the paper open easily, lifts up the lid.

“It’s uh… it’s just a couple tapes of some of those… bands you like. And talk about. All the time.” The boy snickers, but it catches in his throat. He’s so nervous. “My friend’s family was getting rid of a bunch of their tapes and I know you’ve got your old tape player still so… uh… yeah.”

It’s a mixed bag of absolute classics. Some tapes he used to have, others he’s always wanted. Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, Def Leppard, Billy Idol, AC/DC, Alice Cooper… his heart skips. He lost a lot of his tapes after all the sudden moves he’s had to make. His eyes start to well.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Billy pushes out on a whisper.

“Are they any good?”

“They’re… they’re awesome, kid.”

“There’s a card too y’know.” The boy adds, still shuffling nervously.

Billy slips it out from under the box, pulling his finger underneath the flap to open it.

It’s… it’s ridiculous. It’s one of the cheesiest cards Billy’s ever seen. He thinks back to all the stupid, jokey cards he used to pick out with his mother. The joke inside actually makes him laugh, loud and bright.

There’s words written underneath, quite a few scribbled out and then-

Sorry for all the trouble. I think I just don’t like knowing you’re right sometimes… but thank you for everything.

The words are nearly chicken scratch- wobbly letters clearly written with a nervous and shaky hand. The boy is damn near bouncing now, damn near trying to crawl out of his skin with nerves.

It’s the best, prettiest, most wonderful chicken scratch handwriting Billy has ever seen. He can barely see it now through his misty eyes.

“Your… handwriting is really nice.”

The boy scoffs loudly.

“Uh, thanks?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Still, Billy could swear he sees the boy preen, just a little.

“Thank you.” Billy says, fighting back tears, trying like hell to hold himself together. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t… I don’t have to yell at you so much. At all. I’m sorry about it.”

The boy is just staring at him, eyes a little wide and a little shocked. Billy feels his heart lurch. He just wants to be fucking good at this.

“I’m gonna do better.” Billy asserts through a not-so-wobbly-anymore voice

The boy gives a small smile that grows a bit wider. If Billy isn’t absolutely crazy yet, he’d say that the boy’s eyes are getting a bit misty too.

“So are those tapes actually good?” The boy asks, clearing his throat and trying to seem casual. Billy sees more and more of himself in him.

“Hell yeah… do you think I’d have bad taste?”

His son cackles just a bit, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, alright then. Whatever you say.”

There’s a pause. Billy takes the card and tucks it back into the envelope to save for himself- to put in a special place in his and Steve’s room. He then busies himself with shuffling through his tapes before his son says-

“We can… listen to some of them. If you want.”

Billy’s eyes shine with excitement and appreciation.

Listening to the tapes together is wonderful. They rib each other about what songs are better, what voices do and don’t sound the same, what the lyrics are like. They learn more about each other and maybe Billy is finally forced to admit that they’re a lot more alike than he realized.

And Billy starts to feel that maybe… maybe he can finally define what a father really means to him. And father’s days start to feel a bit more like they belong to him, too.

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flippingfrogg · 2 years

Text

A Birthday Gift Fit for a Princess - Or, The Different Perks of Having a Hot Clone Husband (An Entrapdak Fanfiction)

Link for Ao3 and full fic underneath cut!

Warning for some implied sexual content at the end! Nothing graphic.

Hordak stared at himself in the mirror appraisingly. He had nothing on but his skirt, but for once was completely comfortable. In the months after the fall of Prime, his health had begun to decline again. The guilt and pressure of what he had inadvertently done to his brothers weighed heavy on his mind, making him neglect the care that Entrapta had taught him even worse than before. The whole of Etheria was busy rebuilding, especially the Princesses, leaving Hordak alone with the building plans and his own self-loathing. Finally, Entrapta was allowed back home with him and quickly noticed the state of her lab partner. She, along with his brother (now nicknamed Kadroh), quickly whipped him back into shape. Now, nearly a year later, he stood in his and Entrapta’s shared rooms, getting ready for her 31st birthday.

However, before he was fully dressed he had gotten distracted by the glint of his new earrings moving in the mirror. Then, after that he had moved forward to look at himself in the mirror. Hordak spun around to see his back, suppressing the ingrained urge to cringe at the vitiligo marking him. He had long since accepted that no matter how well he took care of himself, he would never have quite the same body as his brothers. His biceps would never be as large and his shoulders would always be a bit bony. Now, however, he was no longer gaunt, a healthy layer of muscle and fat settling onto his body. Hordak felt a light wash of pride at the sight of his bottom half. Even at his sickest, it had been his favorite part of his body. Recovery had only strengthened both his legs and his affinity for them. Before he could move back to the closet, the door to their rooms slammed open and Entrapta came bustling in. She stopped short from wherever she was going to whistle at Hordak.

“Oh hey there, gorgeous.” Even after all the years they had known each other, Entrapta’s flirtatious comments still made him blush. She walked forward, setting her mask down on the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. Hordak met her eyes in the mirror, smiling at the fond look in them. “Is this supposed to be my birthday gift? If it is, I’m quite delighted by it.” She slid her hands up to his shoulders, giving them a squeeze and a kiss.

Hordak rolled his eyes, “Very funny, dearest. I was just getting ready. Your gift will come later tonight.”

“Mind giving me a hint?”

“Absolutely not, love. You won’t break me down that easily.” Entrapta sighed and leaned backwards to sit on the bed.

“Oh well. I suppose it's only a few more hours. Now-“ She whistled again and moved her finger in a circle. “Give me a twirl before you get dressed again.” Hordak didn’t hesitate to take his now balled up skirt and throw it at his partner.

“Go! You’re positively filthy!” Entrapta laughed, using her hair to leap back into the vent system before he could throw more articles of his clothing at her. After Hordak was sure his lover had left hearing distance, he laughed at her antics and stepped back into the closet.

An identical whistle to the one that Entrapta let out a few moments before sounded through the room. Rolling his eyes, Hordak looked out from the door to the closet to see Imp sitting on the bed, hoping for more attention.

“Go away. I’m changing.” Imp ignored his instructions and flew into the closet, picking up a dress from the back and throwing onto Hordak’s face. “Why are you like this?” Hordak mumbled into the fabric.

He removed the dress from his face and took a second look at it. He had planned on going to the party in one of his usual outfits, at most maybe putting on one of the few pairs of pants he didn’t use for work. He took a second look at the long and rather modest dark blue dress he had chosen for himself. Imp chirped again at him, annoyingly encouraging him to go outside of his normal comfort zone.

“Ugh! Okay! I’ll try it on!” Hordak pulled the dress over his head, straightening it out as it settled over his prominent chest. Imp adjusted the straps for him, pulling them down to the apex of his shoulders and allowing the flowing sleeves to reach his wrists. Hordak nodded his thanks to his son, giving him a quick pet before he flew away to make some unknown mischief in the vents of the Dryll Castle. Hordak steeled himself, pulling open the door and walking back out to the mirror he had started out in front of. He kept his expression carefully blank and his hope purposefully low. No matter how much “therapy” Sea Hawk had tried to instill in him, there was still only so much that Hordak could handle.

The dress, simply put, was beautiful. Hordak, on the other hand- No, he stopped the thought in his brain before it could come to completion. He took a deep sigh, closing his eyes and forcing his brain to start over again.

Objectively, the cut flattered Hordak’s hourglass (even he could admit that he had a nice shape) figure and highlighted his broad shoulders and thin waist. The color was the same as his hair, which now went down a little past his shoulders. He had forgone shaving the sides and back only a few weeks after the fall of Prime and now his whole head was an even length. The bright silver of his dangling earrings were highlighted against his dark hair.

Hordak hated to admit it, but he had been wrong about his previous assessment of how he’d look in this outfit. He’d have to thank Imp later for forcing him to try this one on. Perhaps, he would go to the party in this dress. After all, the only attendants were a few of his brothers, Imp, the Dryll Castle servants, & and the rest of the so-called “Best Pal Trio”. None in attendance would seek to harm him or go out of their way to insult him. Well, maybe Catra would- but only in good fun. Giving the mirror one last twirl, he prepared for another hour of meticulous primping and pruning.

………………………………….

The party had lasted a ridiculously long time, at least in Hordak’s opinion. And it seemed in Entrapta’s as well as she let out a long and loud yawn as soon as the door to their quarters shut behind them.

“Well, I hope you’re not too tired for your gift.” Hordak teased light-heartedly. Entrapta’s eyes lit up brightly when she brought her hands together in an excited gesture.

“Oh no! I’m not too tired!” She jumped up onto the bed, piling the blankets around her waist and patted her lap, signifying for the gift to go right there. Hordak laughed deep in his chest and opened the drawers underneath their bed to reveal a brightly wrapped box, complete with a purple bow on top. He placed it delicately on her lap and sat beside her, excitedly waiting for her to tear open the gift.

Entrapta purposefully peeled small pieces of wrapping paper, watching out of the corner of her eye at her lover’s impatient form beside her. She finally decided to give him some mercy and ripped off the last of the wrapping, revealing a small metal box, embellished with some First Ones writing on the surface.

Hordak directed her pointer finger to the middle, towards a nearly invisible button. Entrapta pressed her finger down, gasping when the sides of the box spread into a flower shape. Hordak leaned back, watching her reaction.

A small locket-shaped center opened up, revealing a small hologram of Hordak and Entrapta from a few months ago, both smiling at each other, ignoring Kadroh, who had taken the photo.

“Oh honey. I- I love this, it’s beautiful.” Entrapta had started to tear up, apparently being a bit too tired and tipsy for an emotional gift. Hordak’s lips quirked upwards, swiping in front of the suspended picture with the tip of his claw. The image changed to one of Entrapta and Imp laughing together, one taken by Hordak himself.

Entrapta laughed, “I didn’t even know that picture existed! It’s adorable!” She continued swiping through, cooing or laughing at the images that Hordak had encoded in her gift. Eventually, she reached the end, finishing up at the first image of them smiling at each other. Hordak gently took the gift from her, pushing a button on the bottom ‘til the box closed again, emitting a warm pink glow from the First Ones engravings.

“I’ll have to translate those in the morning. These look complicated though, so I may have to ask Adora for help. Unless, of course,” she wiggled an eyebrow at him, “-you’d rather keep these particular messages refined to the bedroom. Hmm?”

“Oh shush. There’s nothing bad written, in fact, I had Adora help me translate most of what is on here. Not this one though.” He pointed to the rune in the center, the same as which hung from the crystal in the form of a necklace around his neck.

“No, you’ve memorized that one, haven’t you?” Entrapta looked back at Hordak, who had moved behind her to lean back on the bed frame. She smiled at him, climbing onto his lap to press a kiss to his mouth. She slipped off of him, onto the floor, holding out a hand to help her beloved up from the bed. “Come on now, let’s go get changed. I think an early bedtime is in store for us tonight.”

Hordak laughed his assertion and followed her into the closet, making sure to close the door behind them. It wouldn’t be proper to allow the servants to hear their marital relations, of course. . .

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #horde clones #hordak is sexy and i won’t accept anything else #horde clone culture #entrapdak fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sweet stuff #fluff #and cuddles ofc

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uwurakax · 3 years

Text

boy, i need you ♡

pairing: akaashi x reader ♡

genre: angst // cheating // minimal swearing // suggestive (not explicit) ♡

summary: he knew it was wrong, every fibre of his being told him it needed to end with you. so why couldn’t he bring himself to do it? ♡

♡ sequel to ‘boy, i hate you’ - read the first part here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: warning, not proofread or anything! wasn’t planning on part 2, but then it was brought up and i thought “hey i can work w a 2nd pt”. reader has no gender mentioned - but again ig default fem if theres vibes here? idk. also have a note at the end so there’s no spoilers here haha. excuse the crappy writing as always - my 2am brain refuses to work at any other time ty for coming to my tedtalk that no one cares about ✌️ ♡

♡ (inspired by f.u by little mix) ♡

unfaithful

/ʌnˈfeɪθfʊl,ʌnˈfeɪθf(ə)l/

adjective

1. engaging in intimate relations with a person other than one’s regular partner in contravention of a previous promise or understanding

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Akaashi couldn’t say exactly why his infidelity started. Honestly there was nothing inherently wrong with your relationship. You were amazing, loyal, kind and everything he could ever want in a partner. He supposed at one point he was like that to you. Not anymore though. He could never be like that ever again. Not when he found comfort in the arms of another. Another that wasn’t you.

Akaashi knew it was wrong. Wholeheartedly he wanted to free you of the unforgivable. Did he take advantage of your sweet behaviour? Deep down inside, he knew he was. The cheap thrill of loving somebody else while you waited patiently for him back at home. Back at the home the both of you had made together. The home that he had inadvertently tainted with the presence of another.

This is the last time.

How many times would he tell himself that? That the momentary pleasure he got from her was just that. That he’d stop before it went too far.

Over a year later was already beyond what was classified as ‘too far’.

He couldn’t kid himself into thinking it was just a brief lapse in judgement anymore. Not when he didn’t stop. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you in the slightest. How could he do that? To the one he promised to love. The one to always be there for you, care for you. To do everything a good boyfriend should do.

To never, ever be the reason for your tears.

He knew he didn’t have the right to feel this way. It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But when he’d come home and find you there waiting for him, while he was whispering sweet nothings, words that should’ve only been reserved for you, to somebody else just minutes prior, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. Akaashi, ever so observant, noticed that you stopped faking your smile. He remembers the first time he saw it.

5 months after his unfaithfulness began, something he swore that’d happen just once, he saw the look on your face. The warm smile you had greeted him with just earlier that morning before he left, was now gone. This smile wasn’t as bright, and the shine didn’t reach your eyes. He didn’t like this smile. It was beautiful of course, because it was from you, but he didn’t like how fake it was. You had given him some half-assed excuse.

“I’m just a little tired Keiji”

He knew you too well. Knew you were lying to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to press on further. Day after day, your smile continued to drop. Further and further, until it was some terrible imitation of the one he had fallen in love with years ago. No matter how much you tried to hide it, he would always notice the slight redness in the whites of your eyes. Dark and puffy under-eyes that you tried desperately to conceal. The tone of your voice, no longer lively and cheerful. He supposed after a year, you just didn’t want to pretend to be okay anymore.

This will be the last time.

He’d break it off with you. His silent promises to spare you from anymore pain. The guilt ate away at him, feeling the nausea rise in his stomach. You deserved someone better than him, someone who would treat you the way you should be treated. He used to be that guy. Where did that man go? What happened to him? He supposed he didn’t have the right to be that person anymore.

He was always so tense thinking on what to say to you. On how to finally admit his wrongdoings. Whether you knew of his actions behind your back, finally voicing them out would be the nail in the coffin. The confirmation that he was indeed doing the things that you were suspecting him of. Perhaps thats why you could never ask or actually push forward with it.

Because even if you knew, with great certainty, you could deceive yourself into thinking he was still the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Akaashi only received a fleeting moment of peace from his thoughts of you when she was around. He absolutely despised it. It was despicable how he could find a sense of safety in her arms. It should’ve been you, only you. It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, and yet he couldn’t help but think it felt right. It was wicked and evil, there was no other way to put it. Her hands. Her kisses. Her touch. All the moments with her made him forget about you, if only for a brief period. The gentle feel and traces of her were like invisible tattoos, covering all the places you had marked, kissed and touched.

It was all just too intoxicating for him. From her silky smooth hair to the softness of her skin. However, when he ran his fingers all over her body, he couldn’t help but think of you. God he was pathetic. So, so badly he knew it was wrong. He already had you, had your love, had everything you had to give. So why would he run for comfort to her, only to end up wishing it was you instead? It didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t understand it at all.

“Keiji, why don’t you stay the night?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry”

“It can’t keep going on like this. You guys should break up. Then you wouldn’t have to keep going back there, and then you can finally stay here with me. Isn’t that what you want?”

No, it wasn’t. It was probably the reason why he’d never stay over with her. Because he always wanted to come home to you. If he didn’t want to stay with her, if he didn’t sleep in the same bed with her, if he didn’t want to hold her hand - everything he wanted to do with you - why did he still do it? Why! Why! Why! It constantly plagued his mind. He was just selfish.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And so, Akaashi sat in his car, with his grip on the steering wheel, thinking of the words to say. He knew he needed to be delicate, but firm. To the point, but not blunt. ‘This will be the last time’, he says to himself. The last time he thinks of the words to say. The last time he sits in his car contemplating about everything. The last time he has to hurt you. He’ll let you go, let you cry, even let you throw any object in reach to let out your frustrations on him. Just as long as he didn’t have to hurt you anymore. With a shaky breath, he unlocks the car door and steadies himself. He makes his way to house you both shared, hand on the handle as he closes his eyes. It’s time to face the music.

He quietly opens and closes the door behind him, setting his belongings on the dark oak table sat next to the door. He hears you in the kitchen, your feet padding around on the tiled floor. He makes his way there and freezes. You’re slaving away in a large t-shirt and shorts just a bit too big for you. They’re his without a doubt. You hear his shoes clicking against the floor and turn around to face him.

“Welcome home Keiji”

He hated that the gleam in your eyes was gone, and that your lips had to form a smile way too forced. He hated what he had done to you.

“I’m making your favourite, it should be ready in about 10 minutes”

With that, Akaashi loses all composure. He steps forward, his long legs carrying himself towards the stove top, situating himself behind you. He reaches around to turn it off, and moves the pot to the next hotplate. You turn around to question him, only to end up surprised at how close he was. You’re flustered, and he can easily tell how nervous you are at the way your eyes dart at anywhere else but him.

The temperatures rising in your body, and you swear that Akaashi can feel it steaming out of you. He closes the distance quickly, and soon enough your tongues are fighting for dominance against each other. He was in such bliss, it was like your lips were moulded to be with his. In moments like this he could forget. When your touch covered the traces of her. When your taste overwhelmed hers. He wanted you imprinted on him again. But he knew, knew that soon enough, he’d wash it away with his mistress. A continuous cycle of you and her. Disgustingly selfish.

This will be the last time.

The last time he takes your hand. The last time he has the pleasure of kissing you. The last time he undresses you. He takes his time, drinking in your form under the moonlight. Not even the darkness could overshadow your light. He knows you do the same, your eyes focused on him now. You push him forward so he falls back on the plush mattress. Why would he ever think about anyone else? He knew this had to be the last. The last time he’d let his eyes fall over you. He needed to save these moments in his head so he’d never forget.

The last luxury he’d have of you.

So he’d soak it all in, ingrain it forever. He needed to remember it vividly so he could look back. Look back at the idiot he was for ever hurting you in this way. He didn’t deserve you in the slightest. He thought that if he could capture every last detail, it could be the least of his karma. To miss what he took for granted.

How many times had he thought that himself?

And at the end of it all, he’ll just lay there. In the bittersweet afterglow of the love you two had shared. He’ll close his eyes and prepare himself to lose it all. Lose you. You think he’s asleep as he’s so still and his breathing so even. You’ll comb your fingers through his hair, just like you always do, and mumble quietly about your devotion to him.

“I love you, so much Keiji”

You pray he doesn’t hear you, but he does. As clear as day, you whisper confessions of love and admiration for him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Not in the slightest, not at all.

But the gentle kiss you place on his lips has him reeling, and his resolve cracks. He can’t do it, because he’s just that selfish. He knows that in the end, it won’t be the last time. He’ll go through it all again. The guilt will eat him alive. The feel of bile on the tip of his tongue no longer phasing him - he’s gotten used to the taste. He’ll break your trust, again and again, and then carelessly attempt to put the pieces back together, just to shatter them more. It’s cruel, he knows this. He wishes you’d just insult him. Cuss him out. Do anything, but show him love over and over. He loves you, he truly does, and he knows how horrific it is to do this to somebody you claim to love. He just wants you to hurt him, tell him what a disgusting asshole he is, how he’s a piece of shit, a waste of space. Any and everything you can think of.

But you don’t.

And while you continue to show him affection, he’ll drown in the abyss of despair that he, himself put him in. Because during these moments he could pretend that you actually loved him. That you didn’t know of his cheating ways. That he wasn’t touching you with the same hands that held someone else.

So tomorrow it’ll all start over, and the cycle will continue. He’ll keep on breaking your heart, and you’ll both pretend to be okay with it. No matter how many times he told himself it would be the last.

He hoped that one day he wouldn’t be such a coward. That he would finally cut the strings that tied you both together and just end it. Akaashi knew it was wrong, but he was just that selfish and hypocritical.

extra: IM SORRY! i know this probably wasn’t the part 2 that was wanted but 🤟😭 i couldn’t help myself! pls give any akaashi merch hugs and kithes 🥺🥺 my friend told me this mad him mad at him (i was going for sad, so im sorry if you get angry 😭) 💕✨ tysm if you read it 💝

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu angst #hq angst

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 6

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1970

Summary: The High Lord’s meeting.

It was by sheer bad luck that you were sitting next to your cousin when Beron and family strode into the gathering of High Lords. It was by even worse luck that Eris had his sleeves rolled up, inadvertently revealing the bargain marks that so perfectly matched yours. You could see realization dawn on each of your friends’ faces even as his family remained perfectly oblivious. You hoped with every fiber of your being that they didn’t think you’d struck a deal with him willy-nilly, even more so that you didn’t make a deal about Mor.

Rhys, if you can hear me, let me explain before you jump to conclusions.

Judging from the almost simultaneous crinkle of their noses, Rhysand and Feyre seemed to notice the scent of your bond with Eris.

Well, at least they won’t think something worse I guess.

Nesta just raised an eyebrow.

Doesn’t matter. We don’t get along anyway.

Mor’s eyes just flitted between you and your mate, growing wider and wider in horror.

Please don’t hate me.

Cassian and Azriel, though, were the worst with their twin expressions of disgust that they didn’t even attempt to hide.

And there goes life as I knew it . . .

Then your eyes strayed to Eris himself. The first time seeing your mate in over fifty years, and it’s like this, under these circumstances. You would not cry in front of these people, you swore to yourself. You wouldn’t. Though Cassian’s accusing scoff of, “Just tattoos, huh?” What’d you sell to him, your soul?” damn near made the tears fall despite yourself.

You studied Eris instead of acknowledging your (former?) friend, noticing the struggle etched into his face that made it look as if he wanted nothing more than to hold you.

Rhysand’s voice flitted through your mind, “So that explains why I thought I smelled you in that meeting with Keir . . .” Nothing more. Such a neutral statement that gave you no hints as to what he was thinking.

It was Feyre that reached over, across Rhys, to touch the hand you had clenching the arm of your chair. Her eyes spoke of someone who knew what it was like to have a mate that was hated and to be forced away from them. If anyone in the world would understand what you were currently suffering through, it was her. “Go to him,” she ordered softly. “We’ll sort out the rest later.”

As soon as you were on your feet, Eris was moving--family be damned, apparently--towards you. You met in that undefined no man’s land between the people of the Autumn Court and the rest of the High Lords. In an instant, you were hauled up into a desperate kiss--audience be damned this time. His hair was cut short, you noticed when you went to grab a fistful. You wondered when, exactly, he’d done it and why.

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron demanded.

When Eris pulled away slightly, you opened your eyes to see that his were still squeezed closed and his jaw was clenched.

“Well?”

Eris’s jaw twitched again, to the point you were worried about his teeth cracking under the strain. You leaned up on your toes, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips while sending soothing feelings across your bond.

“They seem to be mate,” Rhys announced as your returned your weight to your heels, and you could just hear the cocky smirk on his face like he’d known the entire time.

“Be that as it may,” Helion spoke up, reminding the group that there were, in fact, others present beyond the Night and Autumn Courts, “we have more important matters to discuss today.”

Eris reached up to grasp one of your hands so he could kiss your knuckles before parting.

The meeting continued relatively smoothly after that, despite how tense the situation with Tamlin was or the curious/awkward/angry glances people were shooting at you and Eris. It wasn’t until you were in the suite provided for the Night Court that anyone even brought up the topic that left such a stain on the atmosphere. When they did, you couldn’t help but think about how Eris was probably going through the same and worse at the hands of his father wherever he and his family had disappeared to. The sharp pings of anxiety and pain that were slipping through the bond only made you worry more, fingers tracing over the black bands instinctively.

“How long?” Cassian demanded as Azriel vanished with Mor, neither sparing you so much as a parting glance.

You shifted your wings nervously, and your hand fell away from the tattoo, not wanting to draw even more attention to them. “Remember that first ball I went to in Spring when you all wanted me to play spy?”

He snarled as he turned and punched a nearby column, thankfully not doing much damage to the thing.

“Now, now, don’t destroy this place,” Rhys teased though you could still hear the strain in his voice and see it in the way his mouth was pinched at the corners. To you, he asked, “Why did you never tell anyone?” Tell me? he added in your head, clearly hurt.

You scoffed, arms moving to curl around your middle. Your wings were starting to cramp with how hard you had them squeezed against your back. “Can you imagine how his father would have taken that?”

“Doesn’t explain why you never told us!” Cassian shouted.

Wow, having your closest friend turn on you hurt more than you could have imagined. Still, you snapped at him, not wanting to back down. You’d earned your place, Cauldron damn it, and it wasn’t by being cowed every time a male raised his voice. “Don’t you think I wanted to?!” Now, you were toe-to-toe with the feared general. “At first I kept quiet because I was a fucking slave and an Illyrian and he was a fucking heir to one of the courts! And he was betrothed to my friend and I didn’t even know if it would go anywhere! And then--”

“And then Mor happened,” Feyre realized, “and you couldn’t because how could you tell your family that you loved a monster?”

On some level, you knew that she could relate because Rhys had a similar reputation; she had to, in order to put it into words that succinctly. Against your better judgment, you argued, “He’s not a monster.”

Cassian scoffed.

“He’s not!” Your head whirled back to his, hand whipping out to shove him back even just a step. “So only Rhys is allowed to have that sort of façade?! Eris was trying!” You knew you were broadcasting your anger in a way that was likely overwhelming to Feyre and Rhysand, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. “You heard it from his own lips; breaking off that engagement was all he could do for her. There wasn’t time for a better plan. Not when the one he’d been working on before got blown to smithereens!”

“So you’re going to blame her?!” Cassian’s fist clenched in a way that made your stomach do the same.

“No!” you shrieked. “Cauldron, no.” The mere thought of it brought tears to your eyes yet again. “Do I wish we’d both been more open and talked about this shit before that happened? Yes. Do I wish Eris and I had come up with a plan sooner? Absolutely. Would I ever blame her for the shit she went through? Never.” You looked at the ceiling in an attempt to blink back your tears. “She was my best friend, and I have barely been able to look her in the eye for five hundred years because of something that could have been solved easily if not for the backwards beliefs of others. You cannot imagine what it’s been like all this time. You just can’t.”

Fere seemed to notice something based on the gasp that slipped past her lips and the worried look she leveled you with. “When was the last time you saw him before today?”

Your wings shifted nervously, a tell you’d been trying to rid yourself of ever since Rhysand pointed out in your youth. Again, your hand moved to touch one of the black bands; however, that was a consions, self-calming action. “We said our vows while Amarantha was stealing the High Lords’ powers,” you admitted aloud for the first time. It felt even more horrible than any time you’d thought those words to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhysand’s fists clench. Even Cassian seemed taken aback by the admission. “It was too dangerous to meet after that.”

“So tonight . . .” Cassian’s voice was much calmer now, as if he was starting to understand your side. He was, after all, your closest friend even if he was pissed at you.

“Was the first time I’ve spoken to or even laid eyes on my husband in over fifty years.”

Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a look that told you everything you needed to know about whatever mental conversation they were having. No doubt, they were discussing how horrible that sort of separation from a mate would be, especially after the taste they’d gotten when she was recently undercover in Spring.

“Don’t mistake what I say next for forgiveness or finality,” Rhys said after they looked away from each other once more, “because there’s clearly a lot we need to discuss as a group and as a family.” The spark of anger in his eye, something so rarely directed towards you, made you shrink in on yourself a little. His voice slithered into your mind through the little passageway in the mental wall you kept open just for him, Especially the fact that you think of yourself as less than him because of what you are. “But he will be allowed here tonight without any harm coming to him. Just stay in your room to spare Mor and Az.”

“His father won’t let him out of his sight, Rhys. Not after this.” He’ll be lucky to make it out without blood being spilled.

He lifted a brow as if to say, “Oh, really?” as he strode over to open the door to dramatically reveal Eris Vanserra posed on the other side as if to knock. His violet eyes turned icy as he gave your mate a once-over. “From the sound of it, I’m about five hundred years to late, but if you ever hurt her--”

“You’ll let your dog finish what he started,” Eris interrupted. “I’m aware.” His gaze was locked onto yours as he spoke, and you could feel the shared urge to have your arms wrapped around the other. You could read the tension in his stance, the way he was holding himself revealing that he was in pain as well as worried about you. He was wearing a different shirt, this one with the sleeves fully covering his tattoos. None of this boded well for what he’d been enduring while you were fighting with your friends and family.

Rhys made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, oblivious to the observations you’d been making. “Traded one of my cousins for the other. Just destined to be part of the family aren’t you, Vanserra?” He waved off whatever Eris was about to argue, ignored the golden flames that shone in his eyes. “Just go. Enjoy the time you have together before the world goes to shit. Again.”

Immediately, you stepped away from Cassian, who you were still close enough to feel the heat off his body because of the arguing mere minutes (had it been only minutes?) before, so you could grasp Eris’s hand and lead him to your room.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

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kafka-ish · 3 years

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richie tozier gets off a good one | r.t.

“This was not to say Richie could not be very funny from time to time; he could be. When referring to verbal zingers and farts, Richie’s terminology was the same: he called it Getting Off A Good One, and he got off Good Ones of both types frequently...” -- Stephen King

word count: 3.3k

warnings/included: nsfw (explicit smut, oral -- male receiving, male x female, mentions of masturbating), fem!reader

a/n: pls enjoy !

It was a cold shower kind of afternoon as the thunder from outside Richie’s bedroom window roared loud enough to be mistaken for a dragon. Dragons don’t exist. Richie, however, ignored the booming sounds of nature from outside—his thoughts lost in a certain someone; and his ears muffled by the pillows encasing him.

y/n was coming over for a study session at two p.m. sharp, per Wentworth’s request, but Richie still had time as his left hand traveled to the zipper of his orange, corduroy trousers. It’s not like Richie knew y/n. This afternoon, this shameful afternoon where if his dad were home right now, he’d be caught with his hand in his pants and a name he’d rather not talk about in between his lips, would be his first time meeting the girl.

Wentworth Tozier was the one to suggest she come over on this grey Sunday afternoon during Thursday’s family dinner when he noticed Richie’s recent report card.

“A C in chemistry?”

“The C stands for Chemistry,” Richie said with a smirk on his face. It didn’t seem to work because Mr. Tozier’s frown didn’t budge, and Maggie Tozier only sipped her coffee which had to be cold by now.

“You know we expect better from you.” He was right. His parents weren’t used to anything other than a line of A’s on the weekly transcript he brought home. Richie wasn’t either. But lately, something had taken a toll on his grades—or someone.

“You know what might help him, dear?” Wentworth looked up from the chicken he was currently cutting through. “A tutor.”

“I do not need a tutor.” Richie dropped his fork which was being used to play with his green beans.

“Your grades say otherwise, kid,” Wentworth countered. “You know, Maggie, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Not you too, Dad!” Richie cried out, exasperated at the scene playing out in front of him.

Ignoring his son, Wentworth continued, “In fact, I think my buddy back from Catholic school has a kid who could tutor him.” He took a bite. “Last I heard, she was fairly good at the sciences.”

“You should think about calling them after dinner,” Maggie said without looking up. Which was how Richie ended up with only an hour left to get himself off rather than the rest of the day.

Although his hand was no match for any of his previous hookups, it was faster, and it got the job done. He was just about to finish when the doorbell rang and a knock on his door startled him from his position and kept him from finishing.

“Coming!” Richie yelled; certain that the outsider wasn’t going to hear him. He stood up from his position on his bed, pulled up the trousers that hung from his ankles and trekked his way downstairs. His feet made a thumping sound as they padded their way down the stairs—roughly at that. He was surprised the house didn’t shake at his footsteps. “We don’t want your Girl Scout cookies,” Richie said, half annoyed that his session was cut early.

“I’m not a Girl Scout.” y/n held open the door with her hand before Richie could close it. She wore a white button down that was haphazardly tucked into a blue-green, plaid skirt. Her already see-through blouse was even more see-through, as the rain from standing outside for so long had drenched it from the outside in.

“Oh.” Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t order a pizza, either.”

“I didn’t bring you a pizza, either.” y/n was growing just about as annoyed as he was. “Can I just come in?”

“I don’t know about that one, toots.” Richie made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Pops said I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

“Richie, please, just let me in,” y/n seethed. She didn’t have time for his bullshit and quite frankly, he didn’t either. If Richie let his grades take another blow to the one-inch margin, his C would threaten to turn into a D. “Your dad called mine on Thursday… I’m here to… tutor… you.”

Richie noticed how her voice had lowered and he could tell she was just as ecstatic as him for their study session. Wordlessly, he stepped away from the front door, allowing y/n some space to walk in. His eyes inadvertently glued themselves to her backside, watching as her skirt’s pleats swayed against her hips and the rain’s water trail against her long legs; a sight he’d swallow at and feel himself grow semi-hard to.

If all the girls at Catholic school looked like y/n, he might just have to transfer because just one glance at her made Richie forget all about the reason for his tragic C that stood for Chemistry.

“Where are we studying?” y/n asked. Her eyes darted around the place like it was foreign. It was foreign. Her hands clutched the book bag she held onto tighter, anxious by the new atmosphere.

“Is my room okay?” Richie asked, already starting up the stairs. His tone had gone soft, like when you microwave butter. He almost felt bad for protesting against the idea of being tutored just a few short days ago.

“Yeah.” y/n followed him, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two bodies.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Richie said, not trying to cover up the obviousness in his voice; that he was obviously looking at her covered chest each second she spent turned away from him; that he had an obvious hard-on that he hadn’t bother to conceal under his ridiculous corduroy pants.

“No,” y/n said with a bit of uncertainty. Sure, she was soaking wet from her hair to her toes, but she wasn’t about to borrow one of Richie Tozier’s ridiculous band-tees that would wear like a dress.

“What’s with the get-up, anyway?” Richie smirked. Before he sat down, he pulled out an extra seat for her. Usually, it would be used to discard his dirty clothes on. Luckily, Maggie Tozier had taken the liberty of cleaning up before their guest got here.

“Laundry day,” y/n sighed while sitting down her bag next to her. She brushed out her skirt as she sat down so it’d cover as much of her bare legs as fabric would sparingly allow. Her skirt was drenched, and she was sure it would leave the chair just the same as if she stood up any time soon.

“Don’t have to wear that thing tomorrow?” Richie couldn’t help but think about all the other girls who’d be wearing the same outfit on Monday. Of course, their blouses wouldn’t be overly exposing, but their legs would still be bare and long—longing for Richie’s stare if you catch a drift.

“Aren’t you failing something?” y/n snapped back.

Richie swallowed the rest of the words lingering in the back of his throat.

“I was thinking we start with the basics.” y/n bent down, searching for the green folder she had marked ‘Science’ in thick, permanent ink. Richie couldn’t help but steal another look at her figure—outlined by the white shirt that clung to it.

“Basics?” His voice cracked, but he was too caught up in her to care.

“Well, what do you need help with?”

“Nothing.” Richie scoffed, not letting some girl he barely knew deflate his ego.

“Then why am I here?” She countered. Her eyebrow raised, unimpressed, and her fingers started to drum anxiously against the wood of his desk.

“Right now, we’re going over stoichiometry,” Richie shrugged, not bothering to meet her eyes—her bright, keen eyes he’d find himself lost in if he weren’t careful. “It’s not the math part I need help on it’s the—”

“Concentration.”

“Yeah.” Richie let out a heavy sigh. He already knew what y/n looked like—beautiful, while water droplets kissed her neck that he itched to touch. It wouldn’t hurt to steal yet another glance, he thought, while turning towards her. “It’s like I can’t focus,” he said, finally making eye contact.

“And you need help with that?” She questioned. The familiar feeling of anticipation welled in the back of her throat but there was no telling why.

“I guess.” Richie’s eyes left hers to stare at the wall. The view was less impressive, but it let him form a cohesive thought.

“I think I know a way.” y/n’s demeanor had completely changed by now. Richie was about to mutter out a how or what the hell are you talking about but the words in his mind scrambled together like the eggs his mother made that morning when he felt her hand travel down to his knee.

y/n’s touch was light and delicate—almost nothing as it grazed against the fabric of his jeans. But it was there. He felt it, and if he didn’t, his imagination must’ve been pretty goddamn realistic for running at a hundred hertz a minute. Her thumb ran circles against the corded pattern making his breath hitch.

“Uh, what’cha doin’?” Richie’s eyebrow rose at the hand on his pants which was making its way to the zipper.

“Helping,” she insisted, “if you’re having trouble focusing, you’re probably stressed, right?” Richie could only nod. “So, this will help you unstress.” He gasped at the sound and sight of y/n undoing his zipper. His eyes widened and she found herself smiling at his movements from such little touch already.

Richie was quick to roll his jeans, and the underwear underneath, to his ankles. His eager length stood hard and erect against his stomach and if it weren’t for his lack of social awareness, he’d be embarrassed to be seen bare in front of a girl he just met.

y/n’s right hand—timid but daring—wrapped itself around the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from Richie’s now parted and perfectly pink lips.

Surprise wouldn’t even begin to describe the swirl of emotions that found themselves in the pit of Richie’s stomach and began to bubble in his throat—another groan. Though, as surprised as Richie was, he couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of pleasure and yearning for more as he harshly swallowed at the feeling of friction and tightness y/n managed to spring upon him in one firm jerk.

She was on her knees now, the feeling of hardwood against bare skin didn’t seem to faze her. All her attention was on Richie. The sound of unsteady breaths from above had y/n’s cheeks flushed and panties in a heat. The only cohesive thought in her mind was wanting to hear those pretty little noises coming from Richie’s pretty little mouth again.

y/n didn’t need a mirror to know her pupils were blown, the sight before her that she couldn’t quite look away from and the uncomfortable feeling between her legs was enough, letting her realize what she was doing. What was she doing? Her grip on his length loosened as she moved her hand up and down, allowing for enough space for her mouth when she connected her lips to his dick.

“God. You feel great, toots.” It only took a few motions for Richie to already come lax at the feeling of y/n’s mouth. He wished it were another part.

y/n chuckled to herself. Having this much power over a boy made her feel… confident. No guy at her school would give her the time of day, it seemed—not even Jeremy Fields. But Richie Tozier… Richie Tozier was practically falling apart at the sight of her and y/n loved that. Richie felt her pace around him speed up and y/n felt herself grinding on her palm to meet his same high. The sight of her alone was enough to have Richie on edge.

“Sugar, if you don’t stop I’m gonna—” His heavy pants were enough to cut him off, but y/n took her chance to interrupt further.

“—You’ll what?” She pulled apart from him, a string of saliva connecting them. Richie almost whimpered at the warm feeling of her mouth provided—gone.

“I’m gonna bust before I can take care of you,” he admitted somewhat bashfully. His face was red, and y/n couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the fact that he had been worked up.

“Oh.” Back at her shy state, y/n ducked her head and felt her cheeks heat in a similar fashion to his. “Well, in that case…” y/n didn’t have to finish her sentence for Richie to get a grasp on what she was saying. She began to undo the buttons of the thin, white button up at an unbearably slow pace. She managed to peel the wet material that stuck to her skin gracefully even though she’d been itching to take it off as soon as she put it on.

“Wow.”

“Shut up,” y/n mumbled mindlessly, not daring to make eye contact. Part of her was embarrassed enough at the fact that she was on her knees for the boy she was supposed to teaching qualitative chemical reactions to. Her skirt was next to come off. The plaid fabric fell helplessly fell to the ground as soon as she unzipped it.

“I’m serious. You’re like… hot stuff, hot stuff,” Richie said as soon as she stood up, giving him a perfect view. Her underwear was a scalding red with embroidered flowers that decorated the side of her breasts and hipbone. The matching set was far from innocent, far from what Richie would imagine Catholic school girls to wear.

y/n didn’t say anything—her stomach too full of butterflies and a lump still caught in her throat. Richie could sense her nervousness and pulled her into him. To think, a girl he had met only thirty minutes ago was now engulfed in his arms and half-bare for him.

The rough pad of his thumb drew circles on her shoulder. The slow, sensual movements against her skin was electric and had the two riled up even more as Richie slotted his thigh in between hers for her to buck up against. The feeling of her clothed clit on lace as she dragged herself back and forth on his leg at an uneven pace was indescribable.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t unexpected that Richie broke the silence and occasional gasps. “You’re soaked… so… fuckin’ soaked.” He could feel the wetness from her panties that dripped onto his bare leg and he groaned at the thought that it was because of him.

y/n giggled but the sound of her breathy laughs in his ears didn’t last long as she pressed into him further and latched her lips onto his. It was like no other kiss he’s had before. As for y/n, she’d be ashamed to say it was her first kiss. That is, her first kiss where she felt something.

y/n swallowed the moan from Richie as their lips still locked and their tongues swept over each other.

“You’re like—”

“You are, too,” y/n breathed quickly, not bothering to hear the rest of the words. Her attention was now focused on him—or the lack of him inside her. She grabbed his throbbing length once again, taking barely any time to admire it. “Do you have any?”

“Yeah.” Richie swallowed. He opened the top left drawer of his desk, revealing a box of Trojans which he quickly took a foil packet from.

It was weird. Although y/n knew this was just a one time thing she couldn’t help but feel jealous as the small hairs on her neck stood to attention.

Effortlessly, Richie tore open the foil and slid on the condom. “Ready?”

y/n nodded and bit down on her cheek as she sunk down on him. Patiently, Richie waited for her to adjust to his size and a sign for him to move.

A quick kiss to his lips was it. It was different from the first. Swift, sweet, teasing. Richie wanted more. He wanted more as he thrust up into her and he wanted more as he felt y/n’s fingertips dig into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.

“Unfair that you have more clothes on,” y/n managed to speak through a whine. To which Richie opened his eyes and through hazy lids and lust-blown pupils he saw her panties that were pulled to the side as his dick met her entrance and the bra strap that was making its way down her arm.

Richie stifled a chuckle. “You want this off?” He gestured to the graphic tee that was basically draped over his slim figure.

“God, yes. Take a hint much?” She tugged weakly on the sleeve of his shirt and he pulled away for a second so he could remove it, revealing his smooth chest and delicious collarbone.

Another whine left y/n’s lips as he pulled her in closer again. His speed picked up as he bottoms out, reaching a spot no guy has ever found before. Her left hand his in his hair, gripping at his long locks that only a Rockstar would dare wear and her right hand is clutching his cheek—his freckle-sprayed cheek that relaxes under her soft hands and delicate fingers.

Richie’s hands, however, are in a much more intimate place he realizes as he moans yet again, this time at the feeling of his roots being pulled on. One is on her ass, keeping her from falling off, though it might be impossible seeing as how close the two are. The other is playing with her folds, using the same circular motions from earlier to coax her closer.

“You feel so good,” Richie says as his eyes roll back to his head. “Fuck.”

y/n hums. Her lips can’t help but curl into a smile once the words reach her ears. “I’m close,” she whispers and Richie nods in agreement.

It’s dirty and the total opposite of what Richie would expect from the girl who walked in his door a short hour ago, but they reach their highs together, while the filthiest noise Richie’s ever heard leaves y/n’s swollen lips. He watches her as she cums. Her hair is moussed and sweat shines across her furrowed brows. But Richie Tozier swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck, doll,” Richie says in amazement.

y/n’s still smiling as she opens her eyes, but she can’t help but be embarrassed at the same time.

“What?” The question is small, but there’s a certain weight on her shoulders that Richie notices.

“You’re hot.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and y/n wants to smack him right then and there. But she doesn’t. She only smiles back, quickly removes herself from him, and redresses herself with the same pace. Her shirt is only slightly less damp and slightly less uncomfortable, but it’ll do. y/n supposes she could just change into her pajamas once she got home. “What, don’t tell me our session’s over already,” Richie tries to joke.

“Sorry,” y/n sighs. Her backpack is already slung over her shoulder, she didn’t even need to ask Richie for help with her stuff.

“Hey, is this because…” Richie’s large palm finds a home on y/n’s shoulder which she tenses up at.

“No!” y/n’s barely able to choke it out. “But the session was, like, supposed to be an hour, you know? And I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She’s back to her nervous self again.

“God.” Richie realizes what this is about now. “You’re not overstaying anything, toots. You can stay for dinner if you’d like,” he offers. “Hell, stay forever.”

y/n resists the urge to roll her eyes and opts for the dead skin on her lip instead. “I really have to go. Sorry, Rich.”

The last he sees is her half-smile from her all perfect lips before she slips out the door and into the rain again.

#richie tozier #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier x reader smut #richie tozier x reader fluff #it stephen king #it 2017 #it 2019 #sorry i'm bad at writing smut

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uh-velkommen · 3 years

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The White Lotus, HBOMax

Alright four episodes in and things are finally starting to ramp up. My face throughout the whole episode was stuck on discomfort. This show packs so much tension in every 45 minutes that I'm constantly waiting for somebody to pop off or something crazy to happen but instead we get teased with the smallest little plot pusher. Which is working. I'm officially intrigued. I do wish I knew the overall point of the show because that's what would've helped me decide if I wanted to keep up with but now my determination to find out how this all ends is doing just that...

Character breakdown + Spoilers/Predictions

Armond: The manager of the White Lotus resort. I love him in all his poor choices. He's just constant chaos simply because he has the power to create it. He's also the biggest driver of drama. He lies a lot, almost pathologically, and he will carry those lies to the grave for no real reason.

Nicole Mossbacher: Resort guest, Mark's wife, and Olivia and Quinn's mom. She's a pretty basic character who is teased about possibly having OCD and working during vacation. She was pretty chill in the first 2 episodes but every once in a while she says things that gives off I'm a centrist but my views lean a little more conservative.

Mark Mossbacher: In the beginning he's stressing about possibly having testicular cancer because his father died of cancer... Turns out his father had AIDs. He has a depressive episode over his dad being gay and then, while drunk, he inadvertently comes onto the Armond. The next day Armond tests the waters with Sober Mark and we get uncomfortably funny scenes of Armond coming onto Mark in front of the whole family. Mark's a very passive dude who doesn't do anything exciting in the show but we just find out that he has, in the past, repeatedly cheated on his wife and didn't tell her (he told his son that he did tell Nicole but I don't believe it) I think his theme is just being genuinely unhappy with his life at the moment.

Olivia Mossbacher: She's a college sophmore and has many moments where she calls out her parents questionable statements. She carries herself with a weird nonchalance where you'd think she's a mean girl but she's only ever expectedly mean to her brother. However, she brought along her friend Paula and we start to see that their friendship is built on some unspoken competition. The girls do tons of drugs on vacay until Armond gets his hands on them and breaks his 5 year sobriety. This is when and why shit starts to hit the fan. They know he stole the drugs but because everyone avoids admitting to having illegal drugs, no one is ever outright accused.

Paula: Olivia's poc friend, possible hypochondriac, and supplier of drugs, has secret rendezvous with one of the Hawaiian native resort workers. She refuses to say anything when asked about her nightly disappearances but Olivia knows why or for whom Paula keeps sneaking off. We learn that Paula doesn't want Olivia to know about her and her beau because Olivia always wants what she has. My theory is that this wouldn't be the first time Olivia has stolen a partner of hers and I think now because Paula isn't admitting to hooking up with this guy, Olivia is gonna steal him and use Paula's secrecy as a way of blame.

Quinn Mossbacher: Involuntary loner in my opinion. He comes off as a classic video game nerd, obsessed with the internet, cant live without his Switch and Fortnite. He doesn't have any friends and he takes all the teasing from Olivia and Paula without a fuss. But he starts sleeping on the beach alone and keeps running into these amazing sights to see. This is where we start to see him blossom and speak up. Its ever so slow but in episode 4 he actually walks up to a group of guys and introduces himself, interested in their boat related sport[?] (Or maybe even the guys themselves🤞) He's also the only one who knows about the Dad's affair and stupidly hints at it at the family dinner (he's just genuinely stupid).

Shane Patton: Also a resort guest and the funniest character to me. He's your run of the mill self-centered male Karen (Kevin if you will) and he arrives at the resort with his wife Rachel. They're on their honeymoon but so many moments make you question why in the hell did these two get married? He is in an unnecessarily one sided battle with Armond. First the resort accidentally downgrades his room. Armond gaslights Shane into thinking that he never purchased the bigger room. Shane gets a receipt. Armond tells him there's a German couple staying in the receipted room longer than Shane and his wife are there so the room will not be ready for them in time. Shane finds out the Germans are actually leaving wayy earlier. Armond apologizes and books them a romantic sunset dinner on a boat. The boat is actually a funeral where a strange grieving woman, named Tanya, fails to spread her mothers ashes in the sea. Shane confronts Armond and asks for Corperate's number. Armond creates a fake business card and when Shane realizes the number is fake, he bursts into Armond's office to find him rimming a coworker while high on Ketamine. Prediction: Armond's gonna get blackmailed for abuse of power in a classic Monicagate manner.

Rachel: Shane's wife. Rachel's a journalist who actually looked up to Nicole (her job as CEO of god knows what puts her in the public eye) but when she finally got to sit with Nicole over lunch, Nicole calls her out for writing an incredibly slut shamey article, claiming that Nicole used her femininity to get her where she is now. This is the first smack in the face that maybe journalism isn't for Rachel. Well that on top of the constant teasing from Shane about her career choices. Shane's family is much more wealthy than Rachel's and he always finds subtle ways to make it known. Shane also pays her no mind, flirting with Olivia and Paula and battling Armond. Even during their arguments (which happens too many times for newlyweds) Shane doesn't look at Rachel and just gives periodic "mhmm"s and "okay"s. Also Rachel hates the Mossbacher family simply because they all seem to be doing better than her.

Now for the boring ones

Tanya McQuoid: An eccentric resort guest (which is a polite way of saying, a weird ass person who is over polite and basically pushes herself into every other character's drama in the most unintentional way, she's also bad at reading the room) She comes off as calm and quiet but we find out that her mother recently passed and she's in Hawaii to spread her mothers ashes. She becomes creepily obsessed with the resort's massage parlor manager, Belinda, after a complimentary massage and suggests becoming a beneficiary so Belinda can open up her own massage parlor. Her "obsession" could possibly just stem from Belinda showing her an act of kindness during a hard time but I know I questioned Tanya's intentions for at least the first two episodes... In episode 4, some random dude, Greg, shows up and invites Tanya to dinner after "accidentally" mistaking her room door for his own. Tanya postpones a business meeting with Belinda so she and Greg can hook up that night. The presence of these characters feel a little out of place. Unlike the Newly Weds and the Mossbacher family, there is not a lot of plot overlap. Tanya will often pop up to converse with the others and brag about Balinda's skills but she doesn't cause any trouble. Tanya's also very wealthy so I definitely thing this "Greg" has some secret plot to take down Tanya or plant something or steal her cash and unfortunately I do not think Belinda will see anything bright in her future. Her plans will be left on the backburner which I say is unfortunate because she's a kind woc who is just trying to do her job and is clearly very skeptical about going into business with this strange, rich white, resort guest.

Honorable Mention

Lani: A Hawaiian native, trainee at the White Lotus. She shows up in episode one as her first day on the job. Later we find out she's also pregnant and goes into a premature labor on the job. She has her baby and disappears for the next three episode. Come back Lani, Armond has just started getting your name right!

Show Themes

The show does touch on conversations of race and class but I would not consider this a political show or one with an agenda (it's satire). I point out the characters of color here because their race becomes a device used to create tension but not in a Token POC kind of way. All the characters are rich and they are shamed for it by the show writers. By this I mean nobody is spitting in their faces and calling them Climate Killers but the choices the characters make, the things they say, and the way they act gives the viewer something to laugh at. Their ignorant entitlement juxtaposing with the beautiful Hawaiian beaches and tragic Hawaiian history creates an underlying experience of, look at these rich people not having a good time and they can't even realize why! As for the characters, there is plenty of time to sit back and question, is this character a good person, who's the real antagonist, how do these stories intertwine, who do we root for What story is attempting to be told here? What is the message!?

#the white lotus hbo #the white lotus #the white lotus hbomax #hbo max

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kurowrites · 3 years

Note

au + trope + prompt game = 1. roommates!au 8. exes 3. “i don’t even think i want to know.”

And another case of terminal dumbassery.

---

Wei Ying couldn't say that this entire scenario was how he would have liked or imagined things to go. Unfortunately, life rarely cared about what you wanted. More often, in his experience, life was looking for a good way to fuck you over. So when his relationship with Lan Zhan went down the drain, it was only to be expected that it was at the very moment where he didn't have the finances to move out and get his own place. And seeing that the apartment they were living in was actually Lan Zhan's, he couldn't exactly kick Lan Zhan out and stay.

So between the threat of homelessness and Lan Zhan's all too gentle offer to let him stay in the apartment until he had found his own place, the decision had been an easy one. Of course he would take Lan Zhan's offer over ending up on the street, regardless of his personal feelings! Luckily, the apartment was large enough that each of them had a private room, so they could stay out of each other's way if necessary. Otherwise this arrangement would have been way too awkward.

Jiang Cheng kept repeating that exes still living together was weird as fuck, but Jiang Cheng had no romantic experience and therefore no idea what he was talking about. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan had been friends long before they had ever become a couple, and they would find a way to get back to that relationship and stay friends forever. Even without romantic entanglements. Eventually.

It wasn't like they didn't get along well, after all! They were very used to sharing the housework, and Lan Zhan would still sometimes share the food that he cooked with Wei Ying, who always gratefully accepted any opportunity of not having to cook himself. Wei Ying, on the other hand, knew how to keep Lan Zhan's white laundry a pristine white by now, and he would feed little Hei and Bai whenever Lan Zhan was busy. They really worked quite well as roommates.

Or they would have, if there only hadn't been the pesky little fact that they had been lovers until a short while ago. The problem with being roommates, and being in close proximity to each other all the time, was that it was hard to break certain habits that they had established while living together as a couple. Wei Ying frequently found himself tempted to hug or kiss Lan Zhan whenever he was in his proximity, or found himself craving his support or affection when he was feeling stressed. Those obviously weren't things that Exes were supposed to do, and Lan Zhan shouldn't have to take care of him now, after they had separated. He was probably getting impatient to get rid of Wei Ying once and for all.

Now that Wei Ying thought about it, this whole situation was really bad for Lan Zhan. It was his home, after all, and if Lan Zhan wanted to bring someone home, wanted to date or even sleep with someone, this new person would be greeted with Wei Ying hanging around the apartment for no reason at all. It would just be supremely embarrassing for everyone involved. Obviously, Lan Zhan couldn't bring anyone home as long as Wei Ying was still around. So Wei Ying had to stop making a nuisance out of himself and remove himself from the situation.

He thought about how to do that, but considering that he didn't have the money to move out, that mostly left one other avenue. (Asking Jiang Cheng to room with him was absolutely out of the question, Jiang Cheng the traitor had made that pretty clear already.) The answer was using a dating app, of course. He just needed to find someone to date that came with a big enough apartment that he could move into. And then he would be out of Lan Zhan's hair.

Wei Ying had never used a dating app (after all, Lan Zhan and him had known each other long before they had ever started their romantic relationship, and there had been no one else), so he needed some time to figure out how dating apps even worked, and how to figure out which dating app was the right one for him.

The process was really annoying, though. There was so much he needed to do, add information and mark preferences, before he even got the first suggestions! And when he did, he rapidly learned that he really needed to curb his own expectations drastically. Few men could be called tall and handsome, particularly when compared to someone like Lan Zhan, and even the, well, not particularly attractive ones were hardly ever willing to cook for a partner. There were quite a few cute women, but inadvertently, Wei Ying found himself looking for someone a little... taller, more elegant still.

The ideal person should be funny, but not a clown. Confident when it came to voicing their opinion, but not overly assertive or overbearing. Able to deal with a teasing and the occasionally rowdy relatives. Affectionate. Good with animals. Culturally inclined. Not too much of a party animal, he was past that age by now.

These requirements were, apparently, almost impossible to meet, and the selection was accordingly difficult. A lot of people were superficially attractive, but checked none of Wei Ying's requirement boxes. Other shared Wei Ying's interests, but he still found it hard to build a connection with them. And then there were the people who just solicited him for sex. Those were often kind of creepy. And if he was honest, if he just wanted a good fuck, there was a Lan Zhan right here, whose abilities he knew only all too well.

(Not that he would ever do that. He didn't think Lan Zhan would ever want to sleep with an ex, and even if that was no issue, Wei Ying wasn't sure if his own already questionable emotional state would be able to handle that.)

He dithered around while using the app half-heartedly, not really able to settle on meeting any of the people he had talked on the app in real life. He wasn't sure if he really like anyone well enough to be ready for that commitment, and he wasn't sure if he was making good decisions, with his biased view.

But then he remembered that lived together with the possibly most unbiased person ever, and that he could always count on Lan Zhan's objective opinion. So, one day, he went to Lan Zhan and presented him with some of his potential choices, and let Lan Zhan study their profiles for a little while.

A short while later, the feedback came exactly as expected.

"This person is a workaholic and will not take the weekend off to be with Wei Ying."

"She spends all her income on luxury brands, be careful."

"This man is biphobic, Wei Ying."

The reasons were manifold, but always very reasonable, and Wei Ying found himself very grateful to have a friend like Lan Zhan. That left him only with one problem, however: he ended up pursuing none of the potential relationships any further, and was no closer to removing himself from Lan Zhan's apartment than he had been before. And that had been his primary goal, after all.

So his redoubled his effort to find a suitable new partner that would pass all possible hurdles. And then, almost by accident, he found a man who seemed to be his ideal type. He was tall and muscular, not ugly, but he often looked sceptical in many of the pictures he had uploaded. Still, he seemed to be a caring man with good friends and a good relationship to his mother. He knew how to cook, and when Wei Ying went out on a limb and contacted him, he was friend and respectful, and sent exactly zero unsolicited dick picks. All in all, this man seemed to be a good choice.

When he showed his newest choice to Lan Zhan, however, Lan Zhan looked at the profile for several minutes, put the phone down, and said simply, "No."

Then he turned around and walked away. Which was, for Lan Zhan levels, really, really rude.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei YIng cried, running after him. "Lan Zhan, what the hell?"

When he caught up with Lan Zhan, just before Lan Zhan could disappear into his own room, Lan Zhan levelled him with a flat look, and said, "I do not want to know."

"Don't want to know what?" Wei Ying asked, confused.

"Whom Wei Ying wants to share his life with," Lan Zhan replied, his answer clipped. "It is not me, so I do not want to know."

"Wow, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasped, actually feeling a pang of hurt blooming in his chest. "Is that really how little you care about me now? I just wanted to make sure I don't accidentally go on a date with a serial killer, and your answer is that you don't care?"

Lan Zhan looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"You broke up with me, Wei Ying, and now you want me to help you find someone else? That is too much to ask of me."

"You broke up with me, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying shouted, getting more confused by this conversation by the minute. "What the hell? The least you could do is help me find a way to get out of your hair for good!"

"I never broke up with Wei Ying."

Lan Zhan's voice was quite, unlike Wei Ying's rather hysterical tone, but there was a sense of intensity in his words that made Wei Ying swallowed the rest of the tirade he had been gearing up for.

What the hell was Lan Zhan talking about, clearly he had been wanting to get rid of Wei Ying for a -

Wait.

Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan again, really looked at Lan Zhan. He looked at the slight shadows under his eyes that showed that he wasn't sleeping well. He noticed the slight droop of his posture, which Lan Zhan would have considered unforgivable at any other time. The exhaustion dimming the shine of his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Lan Zhan definitely looked stressed, and Wei Ying had thought it was because he wanted to get rid of Wei Ying; the sooner, the better. He had thought that Lan Zhan had stopped caring about him, and that Lan Zhan was happy to-

Lan Zhan had said he had never broken up with him. That was not how Wei Ying remembered things.

"Lan Zhan?" he asked with a small voice. He already felt tears prick in his eyes, both out of hope and sheer terror, the possibility of having his heart broken once and for all.

It couldn't be true, but Lan Zhan- Lan Zhan looked so- he looked so sad.

"Lan Zhan?" he repeated once again, and his own voice cracked. "Do you want to date me?"

Lan Zhan looked at him in silence for far too long, and Wei Ying felt the tears spill over.

God, he was so stupid.

But then, Lan Zhan said, "There is only Wei Ying for me. There has only ever been Wei Ying. There will be no one else."

And Wei Ying was in his arms before he even knew what he was doing, sobbing like a toddler that had just scraped his knees on the playground.

"Why did you break up with me then, you stupid fool?" he blubbered.

"I thought Wei Ying wanted to break up," was Lan Zhan's answers, which was all kinds of non-acceptable.

(He was slightly mollified by the way Lan Zhan's arms found their way around his waist without hesitation, though.)

"Why would I ever want to break up with you?" Wei Ying wailed. "Lan Zhan is the best! Why would I want anyone other than Lan Zhan? No one else can even compare! Have you seen the people on that dating app?"

"You seemed quite taken with that man," Lan Zhan observed rather resentfully, but when Wei Ying lifted his head to give him a trashing, he caught the impish little spark in Lan Zhan's eyes.

"You!" was all he managed to say, flailing for a moment before he remembered how to pull Lan Zhan in and give him a long-overdue kiss.

"Don't tease me, my heart is broken."

"There is still time to contact him."

"Lan Zhan, I swear, if you don't-"

He didn't get any further than that, however, because Lan Zhan picked him up, pressed him against the door of his room, and kissed him in earnest.

---

Two months later, Lan Zhan presented him with a neat little box, and in that neat little box was a elegant, silver ring that fit perfectly on Wei Ying's finger.

"This should should serve as a good reminder the next time you doubt whether I want you by my side or not," Lan Zhan said, the cruel man.

But he also gently kissed Wei Ying's temple and took Wei Ying's hand into his to admire the silver sparkle on Wei Ying's finger with the most happy expression that Wei Ying had ever seen on Lan Zhan's face. So Wei Ying deigned to let the tease slip.

There would be an opportunity to get back at him, after all.

As soon as his own neat little box had arrived, that was.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #prompt #Anonymous

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Pressure (USWNT x Swift!Reader)

Authors note: This is part three in the swift life universe. I hope you enjoy it! Send me requests, questions or just hit me up if you wanna say Hi!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5

You were not usually a moody person. Yes, you were a little shy in crowded situations, but the team would say that your dominant personality traits were sunny and excited. Like a puppy, always running around and pranking people with the youngins, or cuddling into the closest veteran that you could find.

Then, suddenly you weren’t.

It had all started at family practice. Your entire family had made it, and you had been bouncing around like a toddler on a sugar high. Taylor had needed to leave early, but you understood and seemed excited to spend time with your brother and parents. You had been fine before you left for dinner with them. However, when the team saw you the next morning, your typically cheery demeanor was gone, and you seemed to tuck yourself back into your shell. That had been a week ago, and the problem only seemed to be getting worse.

Practice was over for the day and while most of the team was packing up to head back to the hotel, you were lining up PK’s from all over the field. The vets were all watching as sweat dripped a little further down your face with each cannon-like shot you took towards the goal.

“Is it just me, or is Baby Swift acting weird?” Alex asked, settling down on the bench being occupied by Krashlyn, Kelley, Becky, and Alyssa. They were beginning to get a little worried at how drenched your tank top was getting.

“Totally not just you,” Ali winced at your frustrated yell when the ball ricocheted off the crossbar. You ran your hands frustratedly through your short hair, tugging hard on the strands. You mumbled something inaudible before slamming another ball towards goal. It too bounced off the crossbar.

“She was out of the room before I even woke up this morning” Becky mumbled, as you chased after the errant ball, collecting in and sprinting towards the opposite goalline as though you hadn’t just gone through a crazy practice.

“Y/n, willingly up before noon, there’s no way” Alex snorted. You might be known as a ray of sunshine, but you were most definitely not a morning person. The team learned the hard way not to mess with you before you had your coffee.

“That cross was sick though” Kelley hummed as you rocketed the ball towards the opposite goal. It hit the back of the net with so much force that the metal rattled loudly.

“If she kicks that ball any harder, she’s going to send it through the net,” Alyssa grumbled. Her chest hurt just thinking about trying to stop something like that. She could only hope you ended up on the red stars, so she wouldn’t ever have to worry about it.

“Hm, why is she staying? Didn’t Jill release her early?” Becky’s eyes furrowed, as you collected the ball and began to run it back towards the opposite goal, acting as though you were faking out defenders and weaving through the midfield. The rest of the women shrugged.

“Hey Linds, you know what’s up with the short stack?” Ashlyn called out to the blond who was paused midway through removing her cleat staring at you. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her head (like who gave you the right to look that good while drenched in sweat?)

“No idea, but Sonnett might,” Lindsey hummed after a few seconds, her eyes still focused on the way the muscles on your arm looked as you clenched and unclenched your fists. She and Emily had all but told you of their feelings for you, and still, you were oblivious. They were probably going have to spell it out for you before you actually got that they were interested.

“How about Alex and Kell go try and get some answers, we’ll see if we can work our magic,” Ashlyn mumbled, watching you worriedly. Yes, Alex and Kelley were your team moms, but Krashlyn had known you and your sister for longer. They also knew more about your family dynamics, and if that was what the problem was, they would have a better idea of how to go about fixing it.

“Hey kid, want a challenge?” Ashlyn asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged, inadvertently brushing the warm arm off you, and heading back towards the balls lined up just outside the penalty box. You didn’t have time to talk. Krashlyn shared a worried look at your clear dismissal.

“Come on, where the typical smack talk about the Krashlyn department of defense?” Ashlyn tried again, this time snagging the ball from between your feet.

“Not in the mood,” You huffed, your shoulders slouching as though they held the weight of the world. If you couldn’t keep the ball away from Ashlyn when she wasn’t even trying, then how the hell were you supposed to do it against someone like Kelley. You angrily shook your head, punting the nearest ball. Maybe your mom was right...

“You ok kid?” Ali questioned more firmly, stepping into your path and preventing you from rocketing another ball towards goal.

“I’m fine. Are you playing or not?” You snapped, pushing her off of you and heading to another ball with your head down, completely missing the worried looks shared between the two women.

Yes, sometimes you got whiny or grumpy, but you were rarely ever blatantly rude. It just didn’t seem to be in your makeup.

“Hey, watch the attitude,” Ashlyn said with authority, again stepping into your path, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“We’re just trying to help you,” Ali murmured, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your middle.

You Tensed at the contact, before relaxing back into Ali’s arms with a sigh. Here you were adding more on to their already full plate. Apparently it was the only thing you could do, bring everyone around you undo stress.

“I don’t need any help,” You uttered lowly, wigging out of their grasp, and blatantly refusing to make eye contact with the women who were watching you with concern.

“Hey, we don’t know what’s going on, but sometimes it helps if you talk about it,” Ashlyn whispered, taking a step towards your shaking form. You shook your head and let out a humorless laugh.

“You can’t help me,” you said lowly, stepping up to a ball and sending it flying into the crossbar and back toward you. “Damn it!” You exclaimed, catching the ball and spiking it on the ground. You ripped your hands through your hair, grinding your teeth.

Ali’s gentle hands grasped your wrists, carefully pulling your hands to her chest. Ashlyn’s finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to make eye contact with them. You could see the worry in their gaze, and you felt guilty that you were the reason it was there.

“Maybe we cant, but it might make you feel better if you talk about it,” Ali’s soothing voice murmured. They didn’t know what was wrong, but the problem was bigger than any of them had thought before.

“Trust me, it won’t,” You repeated, your voice filled with utter defeat, shaking your head and doing everything in your power to prevent the tears from dripping down your face. You wiggled out of their grasp, ignoring the worried stares on your back, and headed towards the locker room.

****

After your talk, if you could call it that, with Krashlyn, the veterans were hoping that things might get a little better, but against all odds, it just seemed to be getting worse. Becky shot you a worried look as the entered the dining hall. You were sat all by yourself (something odd to begin with) surrounded by your laptop and about a thousand notebooks. It was a clear indication that you wanted to be left alone, another odd thing. You were usually clamoring over yourself to get a seat next to Sonnett or Lindsey.

“I didn’t think little Swift was going to college,” She mumbled as she took her seat beside Alex at the table.

“She’s not,” Alex huffed worriedly, furrowing her eyebrows as she watched you.

“Then what’s with the 40 notebooks,” Alyssa asked through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not sure” Alex shrugged biting her lip thoughtfully. “did you get anything out of Emily?” She questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you to glance at Kelley.

“Kid just said that Y/n had been avoiding her an Lindsey,” Kelley mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck.

“She wouldn’t tell Ash and me what was wrong, but if she’s avoiding team blond over there it has to be pretty bad,” Ali added, watching as you ran an angry hand through your hair, cringing when she saw the pen marks that covered your left arm. You had to be writing for hours for that to happen. You grit your teeth, staring at the offending screen.

“I’m going to go talk to her before she has an aneurism,” Becky murmured, cringing when you tore a page out of the book in anger.

“I’ll come with you,” Alyssa said quietly. They were the calm ones, and you generally responded well to them when you were upset. Perhaps their soothing strength would be enough to get you to open up.

“Hey kiddo, mind if we join you,” Becky asked, waving a tantalizing piece of chocolate cake in front of your face. She frowned when you nodded, barely even looking up at your favorite forbidden treat.

She slid into the seat next to you, glancing down at the papers scattered on the table in front of you.

“What ya working on?” Alyssa questioned, doing the same on your other side, her eyes widening at some of the titles on the pages spread before you.

“Stats,” You said distractedly, flipping through screens on your computer.

“These are our scoring, defending, and playtime averages for like the past 10 years!” Alyssa exclaimed, grabbing one of the notebooks that were further out from you. The notebook with her name written on it.

“Hmm,” You hummed, squinting at the screen before jotting down whatever number you had been looking up.

“Are these music stats too?” Becky asked confused, grabbing a different sheet with chart numbers from 2009.

“Yeah,” You muttered back lowly.

“Why the hell are comparing our averages to how artists and tracks do on the charts and how often they play at award shows?” Becky questioned, placing a finger under your chin and forcing your attention away from the numbers on the screen. You sighed. You didn’t have the time or the willpower to explain it to them. They wouldn’t understand.

“I’m just checking…” You huffed, finally making eye contact with the woman, your shoulders slumping. She could see the sadness that seemed permeate through every part of your being, it was a sadness that she couldn’t place or ever remember seeing before.

“Checking what? How you compare to the rest of us and other people in the music industry?” Alyssa’s voice was soft, like a protective blanket, as it probed you for more information, her hand resting on your shoulder.

“Not people,” You grumble, your frustration leaking into your tone.

“Who, Taylor?” Becky asked gently. You nodded slightly, squeezing your eyes shut, as though the action physically pained you. Becky’s eyes furrowed, why the fuck were you comparing your stats to your sister’s. She thought that you had gotten past this.

“Look, as much as I love being interrogated, I’m trying to…” You grumbled, pulling your face out of Becky’s grasp, and staring down at your hands.

“Trying to what?” Alyssa pushed, carefully moving a stray strand of hair from your face. You opened and closed your mouth several times, as though you were trying to find the words to describe what you were doing. Becky and Alyssa watched you, biting their lips and praying that you would open up to them. The didn’t like mopey Y/n, and they would do whatever they could to help you.

“Just forget it,” You said finally, closing your notebooks and picking them up hastily. You shook your head.

“Wait, kid,” Alyssa gently grabbed your arm before you could leave “you know we’re here if you ever need to talk?” She finished, and you met her worried eyes from a brief moment.

“I don’t want to be more of a burden,” You whispered back hoarsely. Alyssa and Becky shared another set of confused looks.

“You’re never a burden kid. Who made you think you were?” Becky quired, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. You were the baby of the team, and insecure enough to begin with, whoever the fuck told you that you were a burden was about to find out what happens when you messed with their little one. Your eyes widened at the admission. You shouldn’t have said that.

“It doesn’t matter. Just forget I said anything,” You said far too quickly, grabbing your things and twisting out of their grasp. The two women sighed, at least they knew a little more about what was going on.

*****

You couldn’t avoid Emily and Lindsey for forever, and after they demanded you come to their room for a movie night, you couldn’t find it within yourself to refuse them. Sure, you usually loved spending time with them, but after all of the things your mom said, you knew that they would never want you the way you wanted them. Why would they?

“Hey babe, have you seen these tweets,” Emily laughed at her phone, and you glanced over at her disinterested, shrugging your shoulders. You weren’t big on social media in the first place, and after everyone found out about your relation to Taylor, you were even less of a fan. Her fans always thought it was funny to spam your page with compilation after compilation of your worst soccer fails.

“They made compilations of our greatest fails, and you’re in like half of it,” Emily snorted, and Lindsey clamored over to her, trying to see some of your worst moments.

“You know we were the ones in blue right?” Linsey giggled, after what you were sure was you missing a pass in an important game. But that wasn’t the end, the hits just kept on coming. They took turns pointing out your soccer missteps and joking about why they had happened with things like: “It’s supposed to go in the goal babe, not over it,” or “You got tripped by a ghost,” and your personal favorite “Aw, you look so cute when you’re faking a foul,”

They had laughed until tears had welled up in their eyes. You had played along, resorting to hiding behind a polite smile, and passing off your tears as the same as the ones your friends. You would never tell them how much it had hurt to watch them giggle as you failed at the only thing you had ever been confident in doing. It hurt to watch them joke about how you should turn these moments into a highlight reel for how to not to make it on the National team. Lindsey had even commented that maybe your inability to find the back of the net or beat the defender on a few occasions was the reason why your older sister’s talents had so often eclipsed your own. They had meant it in good fun. You knew that. They loved you and were probably only doing it to make you laugh and get you out of your funk. The problem was that you didn’t find it funny.

“Hey guys, I promised I would meet Kellex for dinner, so I gotta jet,” You interrupted after what you deemed to be an acceptable amount of time, hoping that your voice wouldn’t break.

“Okay,” The woman shot you a smile, waving you off, and you excused yourself. Your shoulders slumped farther. You knew you didn’t have a chance with them, but you still didn’t like it when they threw it back in your face all of the time.

*****

You took a deep breath of the cool night air, taking solace in the field that had always been your haven. It had always been the one place where you were more than just Taylor’s little sister. The one place that you had even a remote possibility of making your mother proud and proving to your parents that you weren’t a failure. Yes, you should have told someone from the team that this is where you would be. Yes, they would be upset, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

You growled, setting up another shot. Vlatko didn’t think you were good enough to play in the scrimmage at practice, so you were going to work your ass off until you could prove him wrong. Taylor had flown out here for nothing. Your mother had taken the opportunity to try to make you See that your soccer career was to be short-lived and without a college degree you were going to end up a slouch mooching off of your older sister’s success. You were going to do your damndest to prove them all wrong.

“You know, if you kick it any harder, you’re going to break the net,” Kelley’s voice startled you out of your focus, causing you to send the shot wide.

“You know it’s easier to score when it’s not 2 AM right?” Alex said as you turned to look guiltily at the women. You shrugged noncommittally, setting up another ball.

“How’d you find me?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at your team moms.

“Just ‘cause you don’t use Snapchat doesn’t mean that the rest of the world doesn’t either,” Kelley laughed wiggling her phone in your face, and you blushed. You were probably one of the only Millenials in the country that had no idea how the app worked. You rarely ever used it, and only kept it on your phone because Emily had put it there.

“Wanna tell us why you’re out here sooting PK’s so late?”Alex questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder. You sighed, focusing on rolling the ball between your feet.

“My sister flew halfway across the country to watch me sit on a bench for two hours,” You said quietly, flipping the ball up on your toebox and rocketing it towards goal. Alex and Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. Kelley opened her mouth to interrupt you, but Alex held her hand up to stop her. You needed them to listen right now more than you needed their reassurance.

“And my mom threw a shit fit because I told her that I’m in talks with Portland about playing for them next season instead of going to college,” You rumbled, firing another ball towards goal.

“And the fans won’t stop throwing all of my fucking mistakes on the field in my face,’ Your voice raising, ripping your hands through your hair, shrugging off Kelley and Alex’s comforting hands.

“And Emily and Lindsey will never see me as more than a little kid just trying to keep up with them,” You finished with a yell, firing another shot towards goal.

“Stop, Y/n Y/m/n Swift. First and foremost, you’re insane if you don’t think that those two knuckleheads are as into you as you are to them,” Alex said firmly, placing both her hands on your shoulders and forcing you to look at her.

“Second of all, you didn’t get the full 90, but you scored two goals in the 20 minutes that you were playing,” Kelley reassured, wrapping her arms around you from behind, placing her chin on your shoulder.

“And third, don’t listen to what anyone else says. You are freaking incredible, and even though it’s going to suck playing against you, the Thorns are lucky to have you,” Alex finished, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead.

“There’s just so much pressure, and I can never ever be nearly as good as Taylor is,” You sighed, tears of frustration leaking down your face.

“Babe, we’ve been through this. You are your own amazing person, and the talents that you have are different from the ones that Taylor has. You’ve won a world cup,” Alex said, using her thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“And she’s won multiple Grammys” You responded lowly.

“You can’t compare the two,” Kelley stated firmly, squeezing you a little tighter. They knew that you were always trying to prove yourself to everyone, but they didn’t know how to show you that you didn’t have to be Taylor. Your worth had nothing to do with how you compared to her.

“You are incredible in your way, and we’re all here to support you,” Alex said, pulling you into a hug and letting you cry into her shoulder. They weren’t sure how long they stood there in the middle of an abandoned soccer field holding you, but they knew that this was what you needed right now. They would work on your confidence and the issues later. Right now you just needed to know that they were there and they weren’t going away. To know that you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore. They and 21 other women were there to help you, and together you would show the world that You might not be Taylor, but you were a worthy Swift in your own right.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine

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multimetaverse · 3 years

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HSMTMTS 2x07 Review

The Field Trip was a campy ep that recaptured some of the charm of S1. Let’s dig in!

S2 has often struggled with taking itself too seriously but finally we got some good campy fun that reminded me of why S1 was so great. North High finally come into their own as villains. The Howie reveal was very well done, poor Kourtney inadvertently being the source of the leaks. I can’t tell if Antoine’s accent is bad on purpose or not but he was funny tonight when he dragged Big Red and I loved how forward he was with Ashlyn. It’s good that the trio of new characters finally feel like they’re part of a larger plot rather than being somewhat random additions to the cast.

Lily continues to act like she’s on Glee which is exactly the right energy for the role. The stick to the stuff you know line was great as was Seb’s bop to the top retort. North High clearly won the dance off though Gina being in a skirt limited her. Lily was doing it with bad intentions but she was absolutely right that the rose song was a dig at Ricky and didn’t fit the musical and that they’d be disqualified for performing it. Miss Jenn should have already known they’d be disqualified for adding it and Ricky should have already been able to tell that the song was about him. I think it’s more and more likely that Lily is the party crasher who Ricky re-evaluates in 2x12 and she could well be the unexpected face time call he gets in 2x10.

It took 7 eps but we finally got an ep where Gina wasn’t upset over Ricky and thank god for that; the constant angst was sucking the life out of her plot. Of course, the reason she wasn’t going through it is because she was spending her time with EJ. I think this ep should put to rest any notion of Portwell just being platonic. Some people are still clinging to Matt’s interview where he refers to EJ and Gina as friends but he was clearly being misleading, even if nothing else happens it’s clear that Gina is not just a friend to EJ. I’ve seen people try and claim that Gina and EJ are like siblings with each other or that they’re practically related because Gina is roommates with EJ’s cousin as if there’s some sort of Westermarck effect by proxy but family members don’t pretend to be dating.

The morning show was a lot of fun and the fake dating was cute. In contrast to the last time they fake dated back in 1x05 we can see how much happier and more comfortable they are with each other now. Notably they had EJ circle back to it well after it happened which led to Gina’s line about everything going back to normal which is a tell that everything has not gone back to normal for them. We can see EJ’s inherent goofiness shining through with the Risotto inside joke they now have. Much like Joshaya on GMW there are valid reasons to not go ahead with the ship, although Portwell doesn’t have the creepiness or borderline illegality of Joshaya, but the chemistry between the characters is real and can’t be ignored.

Rini hurtles towards a breakup which could come as soon as next ep. Hard to tell if Ricky was in denial or just too stupid to understand the songs meaning. I'd prefer the former since a 17 year old would have to lack basic comprehension skills to not understand that the lyrics were a thinly veiled attack on him.

Nini trying to claim it was just a song at the end was disingenuous, she didn’t want Ricky to hear it for a reason. Her deciding to use her given name Nina for her music account is obviously meant to symbolize her independence from Ricky since he first gave her that nickname back in the first grade. However, it makes Ricky seem like some malign influence on her basically her entire life when it’s not like he forced her to go by Nini or prevented her from going back to Nina during the 10 odd years of their friendship/relationship together.

Miss Jenn and Zachie were fun but such a risk on his part to steal the mask, that’s trespassing and theft and a sure disqualification not to mention the very real risk of being criminally charged. The door is now closed on Jike and Jachie and the path for Jazarra is open.

Rouge Grand was funny but I hope this Redlyn angst isn’t dragged out too long.

Mob song wasn’t good, the skrillex beat drop was not needed. Around You was good though. I just noticed that Tim abandoned, or was forced to by covid, his plan to have 3 songs per ep instead of 2 which is for the best I think.

Looking Ahead:

Looks like next week will be a big one for Portwell and EJ in general. We get Gaston, career day with EJ’s dad, and then EJ hanging with Gina and helping her knit which is very domestic. I’d bet if you showed that clip of them knitting to someone who had never seen the show they’d assume the character were dating. So it looks like Mr. Caswell has bought EJ’s way into Duke which is no longer EJ’s dream, if it ever was.

As I said last week, there’s a clear path forward for Portwell to get together in the season finale and next ep will probably take a big step towards making it happen. We have the chemistry, we’ve gotten moments between them, and we know EJ’s feelings, we just need Gina to recognize her budding feelings for EJ. I think Gina running into Jack at the airport in 2x09 will help her clear her head on what she wants and a part of that will be whether she still wants to try and be with Ricky or does she want to take a chance with EJ.

Obviously S3 will almost certainly leave Portwell in the dust in order to do Rina for a bit which will piss off a lot of fans but Tim’s screwed himself over here; there’s really no way that this series ends without a large chunk of the audience being bitterly disappointed over who’s endgame. Love triangles are a done to death trope but they typically involve some minor characters who can written off once the triangle is over, not main characters who have to be in every ep no matter what.

More Redlyn angst next week as well as the wildcats being benched for a week due to trespassing at North High.

A lot of people think that the show is having Nini get into songwriting because of Olivia’s success but the scripts would have been written before she released Driver’s License and shot to stardom. She’s also still contracted for two more seasons though she’d clearly leave before that if Disney would let her.

The Rini treehouse scene could well be the breakup, gotta go my own way would fit well if that’s the case. This is another area where Tim needs to tread carefully. He can’t have Rini hate each other or avoid each other for the remaining 20 odd eps of the series but also can’t fully close the door on them since he’ll almost certainly have Rini be endgame as they graduate from East High at the end of S4.

At this point it seems pretty unrealistic that East High would win the Menkies but this is a tv show so who knows. There’s one big song left that would work for some of the couples they, Something There, which could work for Portwell, Howell, or Rina so we’ll see if we get it.

2x07 marks the last of the clips we saw in the original S2 trailer so we’re largely flying blind now.

Until next week wildcats.

#HSMTMTS #Portwell #Rini #Redlyn #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Ricky Bowen #Big Red #Ashlyn Caswell #HSMTMTS Reviews

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tozxrvo-huskiel · 3 years

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Bugsnax Talk (Spoilers)

I just finished this fucking whackjob of a game hooboy, I just wanna note down my thoughts. Major end-game spoilers, don’t read if you haven’t finished/don’t want to be spoiled.

So they’re fucking parasites. All these hours I spent joyfully going snOOpy....banoopy.... It’s all been a damn lie. A sham. A farce. They’re adorably dumb and sometimes-creepy little yumbuggers have been playing with my mind for all that time. I turned Beffica into HotDogica and I just feel mega weirded out. It was funny, cause she was just weird and rounded and hot-god, but like, fuck, that shit was killing her! I didn’t like Beffica much, sure, but like, damn, that’s horrifying.

Things about Bugsnax as creatures that are of interest to me:

- They’re parasites, but they live outside of host basically as mimics. They clearly EAT, or can eat in some capacity, as they chase after and clear sauces when you shoot them on a surface they can reach. The darn things even have flavor preferences of their own. There are sauce plants out in the wild naturally, so clearly they have a means to sustain themselves in that way.

- It makes me wonder though- the few sauce plants that are wild in the game seem pretty sparse. Do they NEED to eat, or are they just capable of it? Grapeskeetos can suck the juices out of another Bugsnax without killing it’s target, so is there a point? Or is it all a ploy to fit into their surroundings?

- Bugsnax also die- it’s mentioned early on that a dead Bugsnax just turns into an (apparently unappetizing) goop, and we see plenty of Bugsnax goop around. Whether those goo piles are dead Bugsnax, or uh... poop, is unclear. It makes sense though, that the goop is unappetizing. They’re parasites, and want to be alive to infect their host.

- They’ve somehow gathered enough information about what Grumpus’ like to eat that they’ve evolved to look like food. The murals on the old ruins shows mostly like... natural looking foods like meat and fruit and stuff, but there’s Bugsnax that look like packaged foods and things that clearly require more complex methods of cooking.

- On that note, the Snackpods, Bungers, and Cakelegs are clearly more modern Bugsnax, as Snorpy points out how nonsensical it would be for them to evolve naturally that way. It certainly makes sense that they are either gathering data, or are being specifically engineered to be appealing (more on this later).

- When a host is infected with the parasite, the change to their minds happen more slowly than the body. It starts first as a fascination that eventually turns into obsession, until all you want to do is eat Bugsnax. An interesting part of this is that there are many Bugsnax that appeal to different tastes, but they aren’t all easy to catch and devour... If their ultimate goal is to be eaten in order to turn the host into more Bugsnax, why be so difficult? Perhaps it has to do with the psychological lure of wanting something you can’t have/can’t easily obtain. Easy-to-catch Bugsnax act as a gateway to chasing down bigger and tougher Bugsnax, and the accomplishment as well as the more interestingly-composed Snax add to the desire to catch and eat them.

- Once the host has been completely compromised, they completely fall apart into food pieces that presumably turn into more Bugsnax. Based on the conversations you have shortly before their deaths, the Bugsnax can’t dissolve a host Grumpus until they’ve completely given up. You can turn an entire Grumpus into 100% visibly Bugsnax, but they don’t immediately fall apart at that point. It seems that their ability to reproduce, or at least convert a host, is solely dependent on the willpower of the creature they’re infecting. This seems to hold true, since Lizbert avoided death by mentally resisting the Bugsnax’ control, even managing to gain control of them herself.

- In the sense that they act like parasites, they also apparently can function as a hivemind? At the very minimum, similar Bugsnax will function together as a single Bugsnax (the Sandopede and Megamak are trailing Bugsnax, and the SnoopyBanoopy, Bopsicle, and Picantis are amalgamate Bugsnax). At the very end, Lizbert commands a platoon of Bugsnax to move away and even has a Bugsnax golem, strengthening this idea. However, like some super-colony ant species, sometimes the workers will decide to remove an existing queen, going after the Grumpus’ even though Lizbert clearly doesn’t want them to. They seem to be able to make joint hivemind decisions, and agree on when and how to carry them out, whether all as one or just in groups of similar Snax.

- Lizbert tells you that the Bugsnax are insidious and patient. At the very end of the credits a single Strabby (presumably Sprout) appears from the boat after everyone has left. This little shit waited for all the Grumpus’ to leave the beach before emerging, and this could likely lead to a new infestation of Bugsnax on the mainland.

- If Bugsnax are truly insidious and patient and as intelligent as Sprout showed, then this could possibly have been either 1. The Bugsnax’ plan all along, or 2. They saw the opportunity and intelligently took it. Filbo CANNOT be killed in the end sequence, and neither can you, and I think the Bugsnax know this. You are guaranteed to escape whether you save anyone at all, and even though the Mama Mewon and Mothza Supreme appear to try to attack the balloon at the end. Sure, it makes sense that the Mewon might not be fast enough to catch you, but that Mothza Supreme seems to hesitate before it reaches you. Of course, this could be simply seen as the game making space for Lizbert and Eggabell to have their jump animation into the scene, but considering it’s in a cutscene, they could’ve had that detail on purpose.

- GRUMPINATI. Clumby clearly is involved with them to some extent, as is shown in the final dialogue of the game, and they apparently have some form of worship of Bugsnax. If you’re keen, you may have also noticed the Clumby does a strange thing with her eye at the very beginning of the game, before you even go to Snaxburg.

- The Grumpinati are are possibly engineering Bugsnax into specific forms, like the Daddy Cakelegs, and it seems that the goal of Bugsnax in their scheme is to mind-control people, or at least have a way to make people more malleable to their whims. Conversations around town show how obsessed the residents of the island already are with the Bugsnax, and they will do a great deal to get them. Sure, some resist better than others (and Gramble is just endeared to them), but without their Bugsnax food supply, the entire town initially fell to pieces. Imagine what control you could have on people if they were infected, obsessed, and YOU controlled the Bugsnax supply? Even Snorpy, as intelligent as he is, believes he’s saving people by eating the Bugsnax, inadvertently falling right into their hands. Crazy shit.

- However, the Bugsnax have clearly existed for an extremely long time, as seen from the ruins. It’s also possible that they appeared naturally, and simply overrode the entire natural ecosystem. Whether this is a case of “The Grumpinati are an ancient group who created this Snax long ago” or “Naturally evolved parasite grows exponentially, and millennia later are discovered and exploited by the Grumpinati” is unclear. What IS clear is that the Snax are being engineered, or at least influenced in shape in some way.

- Compared to more “natural” Bugsnax like Strabby, Cobhopper, and Peelbugs, special food Bugsnax are likely taking shape based on what they see Grumpus’ eating, or are having their forms directly influenced via manipulation/experimentation. Interestingly enough, the most “unnatural” Bugsnax seem more condensed in areas with extreme climate, where most natural creatures might struggle or have to very specifically evolve for their terrain.

- Triffany and Wiggles claim that the size of a Bugsnax may equate to its age, but the existence of the Lizbert amalgamation disproves this. She’s likely been sustained by the Bugsnax she’s been turned into, but based on dialogue throughout the game, she couldn’t have been in the heart of the island for more than a few months.

- Speaking of the heart of the island, is the island itself literally just one giant Bugsnax? The lower tunnels and liquid seem like a strange and nasty digestive tract or something, and the food in the walls don’t necessarily seem alive... BUT, when Bugsnax join together into a single functioning amalgam like Picantis, you only see the eyes of the creature on the dominating head, so.... Does Lizbert become the “head” of the creature when she takes control, or is she just an extra large “worker” unit inside of the main body? Is there a giant pair of googly eyes under the island in the ocean that marks the dominating part of this giant island Bugsnax???

- My brain hurts. :/

#bugsnax #it me #spoilers #long post #i just need to rant about bugsnax a little now that i've finished it

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