#lumpy can be fun

[charlemane]

Mixing materials for darn durability?

I like to darn wool socks with wool, but I understand that it's not the most hard-wearing material out there. Does anyone have any experience or information on whether its lifespan can be increased by weaving it in with other yarns?

To clarify, I don't mean using a blended yarn (I don't have any blended yarns), but like, using yarns of different materials together. When I first started darning wool socks, I used a cotton candlewick thread for the warp, then wool for the weft, but since then I've switched to doing wool both ways. But the socks I've darned haven't been back in circulation long enough for me to tell which method fares better in the long run.

Thinking I might use the next pair I darn as a matched study - one with cotton warp and one with wool - and that way, provided I don't lose either of them, I'll know that they're both getting the same amount of wear and tear. But that could (hopefully) take a while to pay off, so anyone who has advice now, please hit me up!

[sealrock]

to hells with it. mask off.

[5hrignold]

lsp fern friendship is Canon in my heart

[hawnks]

What would you guys wear if social conventions were a thing? What would your ideal aesthetic be 🎤

[vinceaddams]

I sure do love to go to the thrift store and acquire things!! Today I got a broken (?) little wooden music box, a couple pieces of fabric (one dark pink cotton jacquard and one dark brown and gold sari silk) and also a plate with a picture of the Hartland covered bridge on it. That's the longest covered bridge in the world, and I've walked across it, and now I can eat sandwiches off it's monochromatic blue image.

[fabulouslygaybean]

my tumblr content removed hoodie is too big :(

[crevicedwelling]

I see at least one cool bug a day, and usually many more, but it’s not because I live anywhere particularly rich in strange, wonderful creatures (I live in an unremarkable corner of Pennsylvania, USA) or spend all of my free time looking for bugs (well, just *most* of it). in my experience, finding interesting bugs is less about actually locating them and more about looking closely at tiny things you’d otherwise ignore!

this very long post was compiled over a couple days in late July, although I spent less than 10 minutes at a time searching. there’s a lot of fun creatures just out in the open.

plants are always a good place to start when looking for bugs, and I chose this small fig tree (Ficus carica) with a mulberry sapling friend. feeding on the sap of the fig and mulberry is the first group I’ll take a look at, the planthoppers:

these two are flatid bugs, Metcalfa pruinosa and Flatormenis proxima. flatids are slow-moving bugs that can be approached closely, but once they get tired of circling around stems to avoid you they may launch themselves into a fluttering flight with spring-loaded rear legs.

Aplos simplex, a member of the related family Issidae, also likes fig sap. its “tail” is actually a tuft of waxy secretions, which get shed along with the bright colors when it assumes a lumpy, bean-shaped adult form.

cicadellids, or leafhoppers, are just about everywhere on plants, but can be hard to approach without scaring them.

Agallia constricta on the left is a tiny species that feeds on grass, but many were scared up onto the fig by my footsteps. Jikradia olitoria is a much larger species that does feed on the fig; juveniles like this are curled, creeping goblins while adults’ rounded wings give them a pill-shaped appearance.

this big, pale leafhopper belongs to genus Gyponana. it’s tricky to get to species ID with these.

Graphocephala are striking little hoppers that eat a variety of native and nonnative plants. G. coccinea is the larger, more boldly colored one and G. versuta is smaller but more common locally. they’ll sit on the tops of leaves but take flight if you get too close quickly.

another group you’re almost guaranteed to encounter are flies (Diptera). these are a very diverse group, so much more than houseflies and mosquitoes (though I did run into both)

where I live, any plant with broad leaves is almost guaranteed to have a few Condylostylus, long-legged flies that come in shades of blue, green, and red. despite their dainty physique, they’re agile predators, typically feeding on other small flies.

next, a few hoverflies: the ubiquitous Toxomerus geminatus and a Eumerus that I’ve been seeing a lot of this year (but maybe I’ve just noticed them for the first time). syrphids have varied life histories, but most adults drink nectar and many of the larvae are predaceous on aphids.

the metallic green soldier fly is Microchrysa flaviventris, nonnative here. Coenosia is a fun example of a “fly that looks like a fly,” with big red eyes and a gray body, and you might think they’re just another dung-sucking pest, but they’re actually aggressive predators! this one seemed to have nabbed itself some sort of nematoceran fly, maybe a fungus gnat.

many flies are very tiny, just millimeters long. the first two little fellows are lauxaniids, while the last one, an agromyzid leafminer Cerodontha dorsalis, burrows through grass leaves as a larva.

while moths and butterflies (Lepidoptera) are drawn to plants for their flowers or to lay eggs, many small moths can easily be found resting on or under leaves during the day.

these first two are tortricids, many of which are flat, rectangular moths resembling chips of bark or dead leaves. the apple bud moth, Platynota idaeusalis, feeds on a wide variety of hosts, while this beat-up old Argyrotaenia pinatubana would have developed in an edible tube nest of pine needles.

Callima argenticinctella feeds in bark and dead wood (a resource used by more caterpillars than you’d realize!) while the last moth, possibly an Aspilanta, is a leafminer.

although beetles (Coleoptera) are famous for their diversity, I didn’t find too many on the fig. the invasive Oriental beetle Exomala orientalis resting here can be found in a wide range of colors, from this common tan to to deep iridescent black. the other beetle is a Photinus pyralis firefly, sleeping under leaves as fireflies do.

a few spare hemipterans: a Kleidocerys resedae that blew in on a wind, and below, the mulberry whitefly Tetraleurodes mori feeds on its namesake host. as for Hymenoptera, I saw manny tiny parasitic braconid wasps and various ants attracted to the planthoppers’ honeydew excretions—always worth checking underneath roosting hoppers for things having a drink.

a couple handsome spider boys were scrambling through the fig seeking females, a jumping spider Paraphidippus aurantius and an orbweaver, Mecynogea lemniscata.

and to round it off, a young Conocephalus meadow katydid and a Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina.

there’s 31 species of arthropod in this post, and I probably saw some 45, not all of which stayed for photos. if you walk slowly and look closely, you can see a sizeable chunk of your local biodiversity in under fifteen minutes! of course this will depend on where you live and what time of year it is, but there’s almost always more cool bugs out there than you’d expect, even on just a single plant.

[simpleeindulge]

What You're Getting for Valentine's Day!

Info: Fem/reader x One Piece Men, Monster Trio, Eustass Kid, Trafalgar Law, fluff, minor suggestive ideas, soft Headcanons

He's no Casanova, but the man does pay attention.

While Sanji, Nami, and Usopp are trying to hook him up with the usual stuff, Zoro will get you something you want.

That journal and pen set you liked, that hairpiece you thought was cute, or even the shoes you thought would look good with a dress you haven't worn yet.

He doesn't do it to be different or because he thinks the day is dumb, which he does; he does it because he knows you will like it (and prove to the cook that he does know something about romance).

But yes, he will give you all the gifts the rest of the crew had ready for him anyway.

His gift surprises you because you don't think he pays attention, but the man does.

Now, he is new to this and does and does not get it. He loves you every day, so why is today different. After getting schooled by Franky, Usopp, and Sanji, Luffy is on board. (Nami offers help, but the boys tell her they got this.)

What follows is some chaos. He will beg Sanji to show him how to make chocolates, ask Usopp to help make a teddy bear, and beg Nami to find an island so he can find flowers. (Robin did offer hers, but Luffy wants to do this on his own.)

What you get is truly something from the heart. A box of lumpy-looking chocolate hearts, a bear that, for some reason, shoots lasers (Franky's idea), and a bouquet of poisonous jungle flowers.

It's hard not to smile at Luffy when he looks proudly at you with his gifts.

You know Luffy cares, and it feels good to see that he had fun treating you.

The whole nine yards and then some. You're drowning in chocolate and smuttered with flowers. It's so bad that the other men beg Nami to dock the ship so they can escape. (They'll be back later for the food.)

That's fine by him because he has other things planned for you, starting with a long white box with a dark red bow.

Yes, it's lingerie, but it's good quality and something you would wear.

He'll romance you into it by making you a bath, lighting candles, and setting out all your favorite lotions and oils.

The man may be a pervert, but he knows how to turn up the charm and treat you special.

You're basically going to have the Valentine's Day the stores wish they could promote.

Valen-what-now?! HaHAHAHhahaaa!

Okay, but seriously, Kid is going to that guy who remembers at the very last minute and could give a shit.

Killer is your savior in this department because he knows how to speak "Kid" and what could motivate him. You and sex.

Expect lingerie, flavored oils, heels, jewelry, strawberry chocolates, whipped cream (you know why), silk rope in your favorite color, and candles (to be used differently if he can talk you into it.)

Killer will help set the mood with roses and candles(different ones) and leave the rest to Kid.

Kid may be a rough diamond, but he knows how to turn on the charm, and you won't see it coming till it's too late.

I would laugh here as well, but Law is an intelligent man. Happy girlfriend equals...PEACE!

He'll do the three essential gifts and think that he is set. It should keep you happy, right?

Well, it will, but after getting a second option from Ikkaku, Law is shocked to learn that he is boring with his lazy Valentine’s wooing. His gifts are fine, but he has no other plans, just the usual daily work!

In a panic, Law will rethink his plan just in time to order the ship to find land. He'll ask you to go with him to a nice restaurant and maybe a walk to see the sunset.

It's cheesy and still predictable, but you love it because Law does not leave his comfort zone for anyone except you (and Bepo). While the flowers are lovely, his time and attention are a better gift.

[photo1030]

Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp. 

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too. 

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night. 

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear. 

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision:  do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw? 

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear. 

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame. 

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest. 

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now. 

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone. 

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs. 

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group. 

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move. 

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown. 

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed. 

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill. 

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.  

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow. 

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there. 

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face. 

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp. 

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks. 

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp. 

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot. 

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew. 

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away. 

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses. 

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief. 

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.” 

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose. 

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word. 

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops. 

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness. 

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize. 

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam. 

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground. 

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation. 

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard. 

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it. 

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin. 

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.  

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force. 

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders. 

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you. 

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing. 

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath. 

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips. 

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips. 

“I guess so."

[heavenlyvision]

Mattress

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Raiden x afab!Reader

A/N: I don't have any excuses, I am apparently feral tonight and decided to write a short fic for Raiden that is basically all smut. I feel bad that he tied in the poll but lost to the wheel :(( Have this as a peace offering <33

Summary: Raiden's bed is more comfortable than your own, which means you are always in it, much to his dismay.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, p in v sex, no pronouns used, praise, Gentle!Raiden, eye contact, no use of y/n

The mattress of Raiden’s bed is significantly more comfortable than your own, something you tell him frequently. Something he tells you is not true every time you bring it up but continues to remain true to you. Whether it’s because it’s actually more comfortable or if it’s because it’s Raiden’s bed, you aren’t sure but it’s comfy here. Safe.

“Go back to your own bed,” he complains from beside you.

You pretend to think hard, humming, “Hmm no, I am comfy here.”

He’s exasperated with you; he just wants to read alone in bed and you are hijacking his peace and quiet. You think right about now he is regretting letting you live with him but you needed a roomie and he is one of your oldest friends, so he caved and let you stay with him.

“I can’t do anything alone anymore,” he sighs.

You huff out at him, “You can to! I am just having a little nap.”

“Do it in your own room,” he complains.

Whinging at him, you protest, “But my mattress is lumpy and weird, plus I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“Do what you want, you are going to anyway,” he acquiesces, this conversation going nowhere.

You smile smugly, proud of yourself, he always caves with you and now you get to nap comfortably in his bed beside him. You weren’t lying, your bed is genuinely lumpy and weird and you prefer sleeping next to him, your sleep is better when you know he’s beside you.

“You always give in,” you prod at his side, gloating.

“Do not push it,” he warns but you still poke at his side, “I thought you wanted to nap?” He asks, slapping your hand away.

You ignore him and sit up, continuing to tease and poke at him. He’s generally difficult to get a reaction out of, too ‘mature’ to stoop to your level but every now and again you push his buttons just right and he’ll retaliate. It’s always fun to watch.

Apparently, today he’s extra touchy and he shoots up, grabbing you and pushing you back on the mattress. He holds you down under him, your wrists being pushed into the mattress.

“You are meant to be napping,” he scowls at you, his face close to your own.

His proximity makes you nervous, this does not bode well for your crush on him. You’re stunned as you look up at him, not expecting him to hold you down like this and certainly not expecting him to do it so effortlessly.

“What is wrong? You normally have so much to say,” his brows are still furrowed at you.

You try to struggle against his hold, attempting to free yourself. Your attempts are entirely unsuccessful, your movements not even affecting his hold on you even a little bit. Which makes you frown at him, the annoyed expression on your face and unsuccessful escape has Raiden’s features lighting up. Seemingly pleased at your realisation of your defeat.

You ask him, “Can you get off me now?”

“Hmm no, I am comfy here,” he smiles smugly at you, repeating your words from before.

Your frown deepens at him but he seems to have done a one-eighty, overly pleased with himself while you are now annoyed with him.

As you gaze at him you can’t help but drift over all of his features, the smugness in his eyes, the definition of his nose, the softness of his lips. You quickly flick your eyes back up to his, hoping he didn’t notice your wandering gaze. But he did, he always notices everything you do, you can’t make an out of the usual decision or move, he notices and he always checks if you’re okay.

When it comes to your feelings you can’t tell if he’s ignoring them or dim but with the knowing look in his eyes now, he seems to have finally caught onto your desire for him at the very least. His head ducks down closer to yours, his lips lightly grazing your own, the slight touch makes you dizzy. You’ve liked him for so long and now he’s so close to you, his skin touching yours.

His lips move against yours as he checks with you, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please?”

Your confirmation has him pressing his lips to yours properly, it’s so soft and so caring and so him. He has you melting for him just from a tender kiss and you really wish you could touch him but he’s still holding you down. His lips are gentle and searching, learning how you like to be kissed. One of his hands leaves your wrist to grasp the side of your face, his lips the smallest bit more forceful as he holds your face.

The increase in his urgency has a light gasp pulling from you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your free hand reaches up and holds on the side of his face, pulling him down to you more, wanting more from him. Craving all of him, and he provides, his kiss becomes fervent and full and it has you lightheaded. Small whines are slipping from you at the way he kisses you, he’s kissing you like you’re delicate, trying so hard to be gentle but being overwhelmed by his and your own need.

When he pulls back you’re breathless, you’ve never been kissed so attentively, so fully. The desire you feel for him is unmatched and you’ve been so carefully pulled apart by his lips alone. His thumb strokes high on your cheekbone, his eyes captivated by you, they keep flicking back to your lips. Waiting for you to catch your breath so he can kiss you again.

You’re still restrained, hand struggling under his hold to remind him he’s still got you pinned, he releases you at your movements and both your arms reach up, grabbing behind his neck and pulling him down to you completely. His lips crash against yours, eager to kiss you again, his tongue immediately in your mouth again. Exploring you carefully, attentive to how you react to him.

One of his hands slides down your body and holds onto your thigh, pulling it up and hooking it onto his hip. You use the position to your advantage and pull his hips to yours, your core pressed against his crotch. The shock of your movement has a surprised sound exiting Raiden, he moves his lips off yours and rests his forehead against you.

“We can stop,” he tells you, giving you an out. Not wanting to push you into something you don’t want.

You pull him close to you and grind against the bulge in his pants, “I don’t want to.”

The motion has him closing his eyes, having to control himself momentarily, “Then, undress.”

His words bleed with need and desire, you can tell his control waned thin for a second, his tone has an underlying commanding manner to it. It has you throbbing for him. He lets you push him back so you can undress, you slip out of your pants before tugging your shirt off.

“These too,” he comments, lifting the waistband of your panties before letting them snap back against you. The shock of it making you jump.

He had pulled his own shirt and pants off while you did, both equally undressed, “You first,” you retort.

Your apprehension makes him smile at you, he tugs his underwear off first, completely bare in front of you. His cock fully erect for you, the sight of it has your insides twisting, he’s large and thick and, “I don’t know if you’ll fit,” you observe.

“I am not that big,” he dismisses.

You look at him incredulously, “Humble to a fault.”

He shakes his head at you but taps your leg, reminding you to take off your own underwear, which you do, nervously. Chucking them to the floor when they’re off, Raiden shuffles closer to you again, between your legs.

“If you are worried, I will be gentle.” He assures you.

You look at him coquettishly, “You don’t have to be.”

His eyes shut, gathering himself, “I am going to be gentle.” He replies, it’s not a question.

“Okay,” you answer.

He slides the head of his cock through your folds, gathering all of your slick on him. Getting his dick wet to make the stretch easier on you, his movements have you twitching against him. His eyes are alight with satisfaction, enjoying your bodies reaction to him and his minimal touch. He notches himself against your pussy hole before gingerly pushing forwards, the stretch a lot for you.

He notices your struggle to take him, and he rubs his thumb over your clit, the pleasurable stimulation has you relaxing against him. Enough so he can push the head of his cock into you, the feeling has you both sighing.

“You are tight,” he groans, struggling slightly with the grip you have on him.

You argue back, “You’re just big.”

He chuckles a bit but pushes into you more, his cock is a lot to take but he eventually has you stuffed full of him. Your cunt taking him to the hilt, you’re so wet for him that you’re practically drooling on his dick.

Once he’s fully inside you, he leans down, pressing all of himself against you. Skin to skin. The contact has your heart soaring, feeling so full of him and loving the closeness. He looks you directly in the eyes, it’s intense and has you shying away from him, but he pulls your face back so you’re looking him in the eyes.

He watches your face carefully as he pulls out of you, his pace slow and steady, “You are beautiful.” He compliments you as you take his fat cock.

Your legs wrap around his waist, holding onto him. He holds your face still, making sure you keep your eyes on his, wanting to watch your face as you fall apart for him. His cock is rocking back and forth into you smoothly, never speeding up or slowing down, keeping pace. The unwavering manner of his strokes has you craving more but loving what you’re getting. Not wanting him to change anything and wanting so much more, he’s driving you crazy.

His expression is pleased as he watches the way you melt for him, the way your eyes glaze over, and mouth opens letting soft sounds of whimpers and moans fall from it. He offers you compliments the whole time he rocks into you.

“Doing so good for me, look so pretty right now… You always look so pretty,” he murmurs to you, his own eyes glazing over with the pleasure your cunt gives him.

You try to tell him how good you feel but you’re a bit scatter-brained at the moment, “Raiden, you feel –mmph– good, filling me so much –hah–”

He doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying the lost look in your eyes and incoherent compliments. His thrusts are still holding steady but you’re getting closer, his consistent pace working you up gradually. You’re throbbing around him, close to the edge. He’s twitching inside you, close to his own end as well.

“Want to cum at the same time,” his hand reaches down and rubs circles into your clit. His eyes stay on your face, never wanting to look away. The fingers on your clit have you right on the edge, about to fall off. He tells you, “Now, cum for me.”

And you do, very suddenly, and he cums as you do. Grinding into you as he releases his sticky cum inside you, it’s filling you completely. He’s still watching you, carefully taking in your expression as you come down from your orgasm. His own face pleasure filled, eyes lazy and content.  

It occurs to you that you had been subconsciously waiting for his permission to cum, he has a soft domineering way about him that compels you. He’s polite as he tells you what to do, so much so that it doesn’t even seem like he’s telling you what to do.

“You look beautiful when you cum,” he compliments again, genuine as he does.

His compliment is embarrassing and has your cheeks heating up with it, he smiles at you and leans down to press a tender kiss against your lips. He kisses you for a moment, enjoying the closeness of being inside you while pressing his lips against yours, coming down from your highs together.

Eventually, he parts from you, careful as he pulls out. He rolls onto his back and takes you with him, leaving you resting against his chest. He’s comfortable, maybe more comfortable than his mattress.

“Is my mattress really better than yours or was this always your end goal?” His chest vibrates under you with his words.

You laugh a bit, “Your mattress is actually better, this was good too though.”

He hums a bit, “I have a feeling you will be in my bed even more frequently now.”

“Will that be my fault or yours?” You tease.

“Mine,” he answers, kissing the top of your head.

⊹₊ ⋆

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind (Part 1)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, brief descriptions of masturbation, smut in later parts 

A/N: I got this idea from watching the newest season of Love is Blind and getting genuinely annoyed that the show still doesn’t have a more size inclusive dating pool. I feel like the show  could be so much more. There are many subjects the show could be featuring that it just doesn’t. Anyways, this is incredibly self-indulgent, Eddie Munson loves plus size women and I refuse to accept otherwise. Enjoy!

Please consider reblogging/commenting if you like it!

Day One: 

Eddie’s palms are sweaty, and he nervously wipes his hands on his jeans repeatedly. He bounces his leg, twisting the rings on his fingers. Fuck, what the hell is he even doing here? He’s sitting on a couch, facing a blank wall, and he’s absolutely scared shitless that he’s finally doing this. Hell, if it bombs, he gets some cash for participating. Whatever, it’s not like he actually believes in this shit. 

He’s up and pacing the room when he finally hears a door on the other side of the wall open and close. He literally jumps over from the back of the couch to get back in his seat. He can hear the faint patter of someone walking. Then it stops, he assumes the person on the other side has taken a seat.

“This is so weird,” the voice from the other side of the wall says, and Eddie feels immediately at ease. He chuckles, shaking his head, standing up to walk the pent up energy out. 

“Batshit,” Eddie exclaims in agreement. “I don’t know what I’m even doing here.”

“I’m here for the $200,” the voice jokes. “But that’s just me.”

He’s instantly relaxed, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he’s sitting alone in a drafty room on a lumpy couch. He’s intrigued, and ready to play the game. At least, he’s open to this first conversation. He feels a little better knowing that he’s not alone. He sits down finally, rubbing his hands still. 

“I’m here,” he begins, allowing himself to be a little vulnerable, “because I am sick of the way people look at me.”

“Fuck, amen to that,” the voice responds with a clap, and the reaction makes Eddie grin from ear to ear. “Guys are so shallow, no offense.” He laughs.

“I’m not usually this outgoing,” the voice shares, sounding a little more reserved, “There’s something about you not looking at me that's making me a little more brave.” Eddie thinks this girl sounds so incredibly sweet. He’s never been attracted to someone’s voice, but he’s feeling himself being pulled in. It’s gentle, and kind and not deserving of whatever the world did to you to lead you here. 

“Well, I’m used to being the spectacle,” Eddie sighs, leaning back into the couch, slumping down. “I can’t help it,” he exhales, “I mean, people think the worst of me no matter what I do, so like, fuck it. I’m gonna have fun with it.” 

“Is that all of it?” the voice asks, knowingly. Eddie scoffs at the perception. Is he that obvious?

“No,” he cringes, and he hears a giggle from the other side of the wall. It helps him feel more comfortable. “Um honestly,” he continues, a little shy, “Part of me keeps the act up cause if people are watching me, I’m not alone. I’d rather be the laughing stock than have no one acknowledge me at all.” 

“I’m the opposite,” the voice shares, “I’d so much rather be out of sight out of mind.” 

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” he asks softly. 

“In my experience,” the voice continues, “it has always felt like people keep me around so they feel better about themselves. I know that’s not true- I know my friends love me. I just- being by myself is my comfort zone. I don’t need to worry about how I’m like being perceived. Or if, like, I'm being judged.” 

Eddie nods understandingly, until he remembers you can’t see him. 

“I get it,” he says, trying to be comforting. “I, uh, yeah.. People don’t like… they don’t like understand what it feels like when you just feel simultaneously so small and like you take up too much space- and how they’re the ones that make you feel that way.” 

“Wow- I’ve never heard it put into words so well before. That’s just been my life, you know?”

“We’re really getting deep huh?” he jokes, chest swelling with pride when he hears the laugh. 

“I really like your voice,” the voice admits, and Eddie feels his face heat and he’s sure his face is flushed red from the compliment. His ego has been very much stroked at this point, and he takes the opportunity to fully embrace this whole flirting thing. If he can at least leave this experiment making someone feel good, then he won’t consider this a waste of time. 

“Well, I really like your voice,” he quips. “Actually, uh- I’ve been sitting over here, on a really shitty couch. And I was asking myself what the hell was I doing here? I am probably the worst person for this experiment- I don’t think I could take this seriously. Then, I heard your voice- and I instantly felt attracted to you- if you can believe it. Now, I’m over here, your voice bringing out thing I would never fucking say out loud. I’m pacing around, you’ve made a mess of me.” 

It feels like only a short period of time goes by, but in actuality, Eddie and his mystery date get wrapped up in talking for over three hours. He talks to her about music, his favorite books, his Uncle Wayne… sharing more about himself to a total stranger than he’d ever volunteer to even his close friends. You swap childhood stories, commiserate over bullies, and before he knows it, he thinks you might know him better than anyone. 

A timer buzzes and it’s time for Eddie to move on to his next first “date.” As the door opens and one of the technicians is ready to escort him to the next room. He desperately stares at the wall before he moves, hoping to hear the voice one more time. 

“Please, if you’re still there,” he says standing up, “I want to talk with you again tomorrow.” He knocks on the wall, rings tapping. He receives a knock back, and he grins devilishly, 

“It’s a date.” 

The technician taps his shoulder and he nods, letting them lead him out to the next room. He wraps an arm around the mousy guy as he jots down something on his clipboard. “I have a date tomorrow,” Eddie beams, looking back at the blank wall like he’s looking back to get another glance at you. 

Day Two:

You still tug anxiously at your shirt, making sure it’s not clinging to your belly. Even though none of your dates can see you, you can’t shake the self conscious feeling. Yesterday was draining, all of the dates you had fell so short after that first one. Nothing came as easy to you as that first one, and you’re hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon. 

You take a sip of your water, and opt to move from the couch to the floor. You sit criss-crossed and stare at the wall in front of you. You really focus on your breathing and try to let yourself open up. You’re here because you’re hoping to find someone who likes you for you- but no matter what, you’re still incredibly anxious thinking about the big reveal. No matter how well the conversations go, you worry it will be null and void once they see you’re plus size. 

“Please, please, please for the love of God that this is finally you?” you hear a familiar voice whine, and you can’t contain your smile. “Pretty girl, c’mon talk to me.”

“You don’t know what I look like,” you scoff, but still, you feel yourself still melting like putty. 

“Fuck, finally,” mystery boy sighs, and you hear him collapse on the couch. You can only assume his set-up is the same as yours. “Baby, I have been dying to hear your voice again.”

“This experiment not working out for you?” you ask, sympathetically. You find it hard to believe he’s not chatting up everyone else and hitting on them the same way he does with you. It’s the only explanation. You can’t let yourself believe he genuinely feels differently towards you. 

“No this sucks,” he says, and then you hear him blow a raspberry. You can’t help it but laugh in agreement. “I just want to talk to you.” He sounds so vulnerable, and you actually find yourself believing him. 

“Again,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “You don’t really know anything about me.” 

“I want to,” he sounds so sincere, and it makes your heart swell. “You are the least boring person here.” 

“I’m touched,” you reply sarcastically, and you feel good hearing that you made him laugh. 

“I wish I could take you out,” he says and he sounds closer, like he’s sitting up against the wall. “I’ve got like no fucking money,” he laughs. 

“I hate going out,” you reassure him, “I want to just hangout with you.”

“No, no, no,” he says dramatically, “No safe zone. You deserve to go out and be shown off. I am not gonna lock you away from the world, I’m gonna show you off.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” You quip, letting yourself slip into a little bit of a fantasy. You let yourself feel wanted and feel desirable even if it’s contained to this room. 

“Well, not to be like that guy,” he’s suddenly sounding a little shy and you find it very endearing. “But like, I’d want to bring you to one of my band’s shows. Like- don’t get me wrong, we play at like really shitty bars that take way too long to drive to. And we don’t even make back the money the gas costs to get there, but like, I really like it and um, that’s uh when I feel I’m at my best, and I’d want you to see that side of me.” 

“So what does bringing girls to a show look like for you?” you ask nervously, feeling a little twinge of jealousy that he may have done this before with someone else. 

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, “if I was capable of getting girls out in the wild do you think I would’ve signed up for this?” You laugh a little. “Trust me,” he further explains, “This is not something I never imagined I could do before talking to you.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” you reply, and you're sure he can hear your smile through the wall. “Let me rephrase,” you say, taking a deep breath, “What does bringing me to a show look like?”

“Well,” he exhales, “I’d pick you up, in my really nice and not sketchy at all van that doesn’t make any questionable noises. I usually drive the guys too but honestly, fuck them, I want us to have time together. I don’t mind telling them to pound sand. And don’t feel bad for them, they’re also kind of assholes.” 

You can’t help but giggle, noticing he tends to have that effect on you. He makes you nervous in a really good way, and you try hard to fight it, but you worry that it’s no use. As much as you find yourself really enjoying mystery boy’s company, you can’t help but let that fear creep in that all of this will go away if he ever sees you. 

“But anyways,” he continues, “I’ll admit it, I’m a little bit of a show off. And I know if you were there watching me, I’d just like be putting my all into it. I would really try hard to impress you. I’d also want the pricks there to know you’re with me so no one bothers you, so as much as I know you’d hate it, I would point you out and tell the whole place you’re there with me.” 

Your face is so warm, and you can’t hold back the cheesy smile that has expanded across your whole face. You can’t believe a guy would be genuinely that proud to have you there with him. You really do think that he’s being genuine, and it makes your heart soar. 

“I’m really surprised you don’t have girls fawning over you, rockstar,” you smile, wanting to make him feel special too. Even if this crashes and burns, you can tell he’s a sweet guy. You can see that maybe he’ll let you down gently. You don’t know why your insecurities hold you down this much. You, more than anyone, get in the way of your own happiness. You’re determined to not let it affect you this deeply. You resolve to let yourself see how this goes, and to throw yourself into it- willing to get hurt. 

“Trust me,” he scoffs, “I am not what you’re thinking I am. I’m not like that guy, I’m more awkward than anything. I think girls are more interested in the football star guys, the future suits, you know? Guys with a haircut and go to college- They don’t want to waste their time with a going nowhere punk.” 

“I really don’t think that’s true,” you speculate, “There’s no one with a poster of Jack Welch on their wall- but every girl I know has a picture of Eddie VanHalen.” 

“Is there like a peephole in here or something?” He says jokingly, knocking on the wall, like he’s looking for one. “Or are you just a psychic or something?” 

“What are you even talking about?” You chuckle, raising an eyebrow, confused. You shake your head, but before you can’t get clarification, the buzzer sounds, marking the end of your time with him for today. 

“NOOO,” you hear him dramatically exhale. A muffled voice, your assuming is one of the lab techs must be exhausted. 

You press your hand to the wall, as your form of an intimate goodbye as the technician holds the door open for you. You get up from your spot and head out, excited to come back tomorrow for another round of dates. 

Leaving Hawkins Lab, each test subject needs to stagger there exits as to not risk accidentally seeing the other candidates. You are in a small waiting room, doing your daily exit interview with one of the neuroscientists. 

*** 

Under the agreement you signed when you volunteered for the experiment, you are not permitted to go to any locations where people socialize and congregate. You’re not permitted to go anywhere where you may accidentally see or meet one of the other subjects. You are required to only go out on necessary errands such as grocery shopping or appointments. 

On the drive back to your apartment, your mind keeps overplaying the worst case scenarios your anxiety keeps conjuring. You know the whole point of the experiment is to see if love, or whatever trumps physical attraction. If hypothetically, someone does fall in love with you- your appearance shouldn’t be a factor. However, it’s not wrong for you to want your partner to be attracted to you. And you acknowledge physical attraction is a thing and if you aren’t someone’s type that isn’t bad either. Your past experiences and unresolved childhood traumas surrounding your appearance and self-esteem, makes it difficult to allow yourself to see that you are actually desirable. 

Although unknown to you, a lot of people in this experiment feel the exact same way. Not fitting into the box society wants to slot them in has made dating incredibly difficult for many. There’s a comfort knowing everyone there supposedly wants the same thing as you, just to be loved. You weren’t sure going in that you would even make connections with anyone. At first, it felt like low stakes- worst case scenario you walk away no better off than before. But, you didn’t anticipate actually hitting it off with someone like you have, and it’s opened a whole new set of fears. 

***

At his trailer, Eddie just stares up at the vent in the ceiling above his bed. He blows out another puff of smoke and watches as it swirls and wafts up into the air around him. His thoughts are consumed entirely with you. He watches how the smoke from his blunt mixes with the smoke of his burning incense and his mind drifts, just completely fixated on how the minutes on the clock tick by until he can talk to you again. 

He wonders if you’re thinking about him, the same way he’s thinking about you. He wonders if you’re trying to picture what he looks like the same way he’s making guesses about you. He thinks about if you smoke, and he imagines what it’d be like if he was sharing this with you. Thinking about what it would look like, your lips around the joint, blowing out smoke from what he imagines is just a sexy mouth. He can’t help but close his eyes and let a little frustrated groan escape at the thought. 

He can’t picture the entirety of you, but more so he can imagine just your presence in his room. He imagines the feeling of someone laying beside him, smooth skin he can run his hands across, the warmth radiating off of another body in his bed. He has your voice in his head, wishing you were talking to him now. 

With his eyes closed, joint put aside on his ashtray, he imagines it’s your hands tugging down his jeans, and it’s your hand wrapping around his hard cock that’s staining the band of his boxers now. He thinks about your laugh, and that adorable giggle of yours, and how much he can bask in the fact that it’s him who elicits those reactions from you. He thinks about the sweet voice, the flirty fluctuations of your tone when you warmed up to him. He imagines you using that same voice to tease him if you were here, seeing just how much of a mess you’ve made of him. 

He’s never been able to get off without some kind of visual aid, so to speak, before. Now, he’s practically whimpering just thinking about the sound of your voice and thinking about your hands on him. He thinks about the feeling of your hands working his length up and down. He imagines how playful it would be, rolling around on this bed with you as the layers you're both wearing come off. He doesn’t even need to try to think about what you look like to feel aroused by you. He doesn’t even care in the slightest at this moment. 

He’s so needy, twitching as he feels himself get closer, and he thinks about what you would be whispering in his ear to get him to finish. He imagines the praise, and the way you would be begging for his cum. He realizes he doesn’t even know your name, as he’s hit with the urge to call it out. 

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he moans instead, working himself up to his release. He keeps moaning out his little nickname for you until he’s made a mess of his shirt and he’s gasping to catch his breath as his orgasm extracted all the energy from his body. 

Tomorrow, he resolves, he needs to learn your name. 

PART TWO

[just-jordie-things]

[part fourteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 4.6k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part fourteen]: “The Beginning Of The End Of All Things” ___

The next morning, Megumi and Tsumiki are delightedly surprised to find (y/n) making them breakfast when they wake up.  They’re smiling wide and both of them are hugging her while she flips pancakes over the stove.  She laughs and teases them for their affection, even though she knows just as well as they do that it’s odd for her to have stayed through the night.

“You should stay more often!” Tsumiki says through a mouthful of cat face-shaped pancake.

“Yeah, if you keep making us breakfast” Megumi agrees with a shyer smile than his sister.

(y/n) just laughs them off and refuses to make them any promises, and they notice something’s different about her today.  She’s in a better mood, dancing around as she pours batter into more shapes, including a lumpy bunny, a heart, and what was supposed to be a star, but fell apart when it came time to flip the cake over.  She’s telling them about her assignment in Brazil, hyping up the parts that weren’t so interesting and dramatizing the parts that were thrilling to be even more so.  Her smile feels genuine again, warm and comforting like they were used to.  Neither one of them knows what caused this shift in her mood, but they don’t comment on it.  They’re simply happy that things feel normal again.

Maybe even better than normal.

(y/n) even sticks around for breakfast, and spends most of her morning with them.  They talk and joke around all through breakfast, the atmosphere nothing but light and cheerful.  

Even the skies were sunny and clear of all clouds, it was as if the universe was treating them.

“Listen, I know it’s a Saturday, but I can’t stay all day,” (y/n) says while she cleans up the kitchen.  Tsumiki lets out a whine of disappointment, and Megumi remains quiet.  “I’m sorry, but I have important stuff to do back at school today”

“But it’s Saturday! School can’t happen on Saturday” Tsumiki argues, and (y/n) can’t help but chuckle at her frustration.

“You don’t think I want to go to school on a Saturday, do you?”

Tsumiki pouts, but doesn’t argue again.

“And anyways, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.  I can even make pancakes again,” She offers, which seems to brighten the kids’ moods in the slightest.

She hesitates before continuing, her eyes fixed on rinsing plates in the sink as she speaks carefully, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Although there is an important errand I’ll have to run tomorrow,”

She tries not to think about it, even as she says it, even though she knows they’ll press for more details.

“Hopefully it won’t take long.  Then you’ll have me the rest of the day… we should do something fun” She adds the last part in hopes that it could serve as a distraction.

“What errand?” Megumi asks.

She should’ve known better.  Nothing got past this kid.

“I just have to make a quick visit,” (y/n) shrugs her shoulders loosely.  “Like I said, it shouldn't take long.  But if you guys think of something fun to do, I’ll treat you.  Think of it like an apology for me having to ditch you today”

Neither Tsumiki or Megumi ask any more questions, which (y/n) is relieved by.

She just wanted them to have an easy going morning.  And selfishly, she wanted to spend a few more good hours with them.  She didn’t want to think these could be the last, as the mere thought made her heart break.  But she also didn’t want to take any chances and leave without feeling like she’d given them good lives, even in the short time she’d spent with them.

After tidying up the house a bit and making sure they had a few things to eat for lunch and dinner, and once she was sure that they were set for the day, she quickly ran out of reasons to stall, to stick around just a little longer.

She couldn’t stay for the day, she knew she needed to get back to Jujutsu Tech to train, to prepare for what was coming tomorrow.  Still, her feet dragged as she made her way to the door.

Tsumiki and Megumi stood side by side while she stood before them, no parting words coming to mind, while they wondered why she didn’t just say goodbye.

“I’ll be at school, but you know you can still text me if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah” Tsumiki giggles, finding the question silly.  She always reached out whenever she needed help with homework, or making something to eat.

“You can call, too,” (y/n) adds as an afterthought.  

She turns to Megumi, noticing the cord around his neck that disappeared under his shirt, the stone hanging from it that was imbued with her cursed energy hidden under the blue tee shirt he wore.

Relief and despair make for a heavy feeling in her chest as she thinks about him wearing it every day.  If she survives, he’ll always have her just a snap away to protect him.  If she doesn’t… the tool’s power is rendered useless, and then who will he have?

(y/n) swallows the lump in her throat as she kneels down before them, her finger pointing at the hidden necklace.

“And if you need to use that-”

“I will” Megumi cuts her off before she could finish the speech that he could probably recite for her.

Her lips curl into a smile.

“Okay you little shits I gotta get to school before I get in trouble,” She says, reaching out to pet both their heads.  “Be good, alright?”

“Bye (y/n)” Tsumiki leapt forward, throwing her arms around (y/n’s) neck before she could stand.  Despite the sudden action, (y/n’s) quick to hug her back.

When the child pulls away, (y/n) turns to Megumi.

“You gonna hug me too, you little shit?” She teases.

Megumi blushes, flustering as he looks at the ground and hooks his hands behind his back.

“I hugged you yesterday” He grumbles, and (y/n) laughs, settling for messing up his hair again, knowing that would make him more irritated than a hug, anyways.

As always, Megumi groans and swats her hand away, trying to fix his ruined hair.

“Alright, be a brat about it,” She teases before standing.  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow”

They bid her their final goodbye, and (y/n) leaves.

After closing the door she draws her curtain, and lingers for just a minute longer on the front step.  No amount of stalling felt like enough to ease the anxious skip in her heartbeat.  It already feels like she’s been here for ages, like every second dragged on for centuries.  And yet now that it was time to go, she feels that urge to stand on the porch until she feels that urge to stand on the porch until she had to be forced off of the

When she’s finally ready to step off the property, she freezes in place, her eyes landing on two figures just across the street.  Normally strangers passing by in the neighborhood didn’t make her blood run cold, but these weren’t your average strangers.

They were clad in traditional robes, which looked completely unsoiled, like they were brand new.  Judging by the way they stood, staring straight ahead at her, she had a sinking feeling of who they were, and why they were here.

I don’t have any weapons, her mind quickly jumps to what her strategy would be.  I’ll only have my cursed technique and strength to defend myself.

Before she could come up with what her plan was, her feet were moving, carrying her down the steps of the porch, and across the yard.

There are people around, she notes, glancing at a few walkers down the street, a man mowing his yard, a woman gardening.  And if things get ugly, Megumi and Tsumiki are inside.  

She’s never worried much about witnesses when it comes to acts of violence in public.  Although the truth was people weren’t usually upset to have a girl with swords around when a literal monster was haunting the area.  But this was different.  Her opinions on the Zen’in Clan aside, those two were merely men, and if she approached them with cursed energy buzzing in her fists, she was going to make a scene.  Perhaps if Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t inside she’d say fuck it and take the ill-intentioned strangers down.  She tried to push the theoretical thoughts away, instead focusing on what she needed to do right now to get these men as far away from the Fushiguro house as possible.

She’s approached them now, standing a few feet away from them as her calculated glare slowly tracks between them both.  They seemed to be young men, probably not much older than she was.

I could take them, she tells herself.

But instead she crosses her arms over her chest, and waits for them to explain themselves.  She knew she didn’t owe them shit, and if it weren’t for their location and the risk of the kids seeing, (y/n) would have knocked them on their ass by now.  So she taps her foot with impatience, and sizes them up white she waits for them to state their purpose.

The strangers in the kimonos turn their heads, sharing a look.  They remained expressionless, but she assumed both were confused by her silent approach.

“If you don’t explain why you’re stalking my kids, I’ll have no choice but to assume you mean to do them harm,” (y/n) speaks up.

Her voice is shockingly even, although low in tone.

The strangers in kimonos look back at her, seemingly intrigued by what she had to say.

“So let me make this easy for you,” She says slowly, eyes flickering between the both of them.  Her arms drop from her defensive position, one hand setting on her hip.  “Do you mean to do them harm?”

Again, the strangers share a look, but this time there’s amusement on their features.

“You know why we’ve come,” One of them, the one with his hair neatly swept into a knot on the top of his head, speaks.  “You know we’re here on behalf of the Zen’in Clan”

(y/n) holds his stare for a long moment, her features, and her entire body, unmoving.

“Yes”

Her answer is blunt, but she doesn’t have anything else to say to them.

If I kill them both now, I’ll have to leave immediately to go for the rest, she thinks to herself.  It would only be a matter of time until the rest of the clan caught wind of what happened.  And were these two really worth the trouble, anyways? THey looked to be her age, for all she knew, they were just Zen’in lackeys.

But either way, she knows what’s coming, and these two were far too close to the Fushiguro kids for her liking.  So whatever their reasoning for being here now, if they had malicious intent, she would be left with no choice but to take them out.

“So you’re also aware that you have twenty four hours to deliver the son of Fushiguro Toji to the Zen’in Clan, before we’re sent back to collect him ourselves?” The other stranger, who’s dark hair is cut much shorter than his partner’s, spoke.

Now it was his turn to be on the receiving end of her icy glare, but just like his counterpart, he appears unphased by this.

“Yes” (y/n) repeats.

It’s silent for a moment, before the first man scoffs, and speaks again.

“You’re nothing but a child yourself,” He comments.  “What business do you have staking your claim in children that aren’t yours?”

(y/n) tilts her head at him, plotting to herself for a moment, before she steps closer, enough to lower her voice to a mutter.

“Awful bold question for you to ask,” She says slowly, her brows lowering as her glare hardens.  “Horridly foolish, of you and your clan, to assume that those children aren’t mine,”

She pauses, smirking to herself before shaking her head at both men.  Despite her intent to keep things from escalating, her once cold blood was heating up under her skin, and she wasn’t sure how long she could maintain this professional act.

Oh, if she had her swords…

“You said so yourself, I have twenty four hours,” She repeats back to them.  “And it wouldn’t exactly look good for the Zen’in Clan to pull some shady trick, hm? Or do you openly kidnap children now?”

“We’re not kidnapping anybody-” The short haired man leapt forward with a snarl, only to be stopped by his partner with an arm to his chest.

(y/n) doesn’t move an inch.  Not even a flinch at the sudden movement.  She tucks her hands into her pockets, feigning indifference to the act.

Although her mind had already leapt to six different ways she could counter the potential attack.

“Let Zen’in Naobito know that I’ll be seeing him this time tomorrow then,” She states calmly, and this time she isn’t faking her relaxed state.

Both strangers’ eyes widened, shocked to be handed an order by anyone other than a member of the Zen’in Clan- much less a message for their head.  They seemed unsure as to whether or not they could agree to relay this message, but (y/n) sweetened the deal with her next words.

“You can also let him know that if I find anymore of you mindless insects creeping around here, I’ll be returning your heads to him, personally”

The men don’t seem particularly threatened by her words, but they do take them seriously, as they nod back at her in unison.

However, one of them smirks.

“If you find another one of us around here, it will be because master Zen’in has sent us for your head” He states proudly.

(y/n) tilts her head back at him, her expression unwavering as her eyes harden on him.

“I suppose I’ll look forward to it, then,” She muses, making the man frown in distaste.  “Now leave.  My message for your master is urgent, and I’d like you to treat it as such”

To her luck, they do leave the premises.  She lingers in the area for a while, just to make sure they really had slunk away, but she’d already spent too much time stalling this morning, and she couldn’t allow too much more of her day to be eaten up.

When she’s certain there’s not another malicious presence near the Fushiguro home, she takes off, the gears in her head spinning as she walks back to Jujutsu Tech.

With only one day left to prepare for her meeting with the head of the Zen’in Clan, there was too much to do.  But she didn’t make it this far, she didn’t keep secrets and tell lies and threaten one of the most prominent families in jujutsu society just to cower away now.  

Besides, after seeing how weak the two spies they’d sent her way were, she had a leap in faith in her abilities to do whatever was necessary.  She was a Semi-Grade One Sorcerer after all, and for someone her age that was no feat to laugh at.

Although, those two didn’t seem to be any older than she was.  They may have still been in training.  The Zen’in Clan didn’t make any half-assed decisions, so if they sent them, they did so for a reason.

To give her false confidence? She wondered, her pace quickening the longer she thought about it.  To instigate her into doing something stupid, so they could get rid of her, the only obstacle in the way of what they want?

The swell of pride she’d felt earlier quickly began to deflate.

Only making a few quick pit stops on her way back to the school, she still got back in record time.  However it was made clear quickly that it didn’t matter when she’d returned, because there was a very angry Shoko waiting for her at the front gates when she approached.

She should have seen this coming, but she’d been distracted by her own mind and her race to campus

The short haired sorcerer stood with her arms crossed, her white lab coat tightly wrapped in front of her uniform, and (y/n) doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a sour look on her face.

Not directed towards her, anyways.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” She shouted as soon as (y/n) was close enough to hear.

“I just got back from a trip to the convenience store,” (y/n) said, raising the plastic bag in her hands for proof.  “I left this morning-”

“Bullshit!” Shoko threw her arms at her sides, her hands in fists. “Cut the bullshit already! I know you didn’t come back last night!”

(y/n) winced, worried and embarrassed for getting caught in a lie.  Her heart leapt to her throat, and she had to swallow it back down.  She tried to come up with something better to say, but being put on the spot was no help.  All that was on her mind were the men that the Zen’in Clan had sent to her, and she didn’t have the energy to take on Shoko, too.

“I thought you were finally done with all the lies?” Shoko asks, sounding less angry and more defeated.

(y/n’s) shoulders drop in defeat.  SHe’d rather Shoko be angry with her than be disappointed.  Anger was a brief pain, like a smack to the face.  It would hurt upon impact, but then it would disintegrate into nothing.  Disappointment lingered, like a nag in your gut that something was wrong.  It clung to a person like a curse manifested by one’s own depression.  What’s worse  is the way the emotion looks on Shoko now.

“You can’t just flake in the middle of the night and not come back, okay?” Shoko’s voice is shaky, and (y/n) takes a few more steps forward.  “You can’t leave like him.  You can’t”

The mention of Suguru makes the bitter memory of his retreating form flash in (y/n’s) mind, but she shakes her head and tries to brush it off because she has to.

“It’s not like that,” (y/n) sighs, dropping her bag to close more distance between them.  “I promise, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but you have to believe me, I’m fine”

She reaches out to place a comforting hand on Shoko’s shoulder, but the girl shrugs it off, tears in her eyes as she takes a step back.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, (y/n),” She admits, taking shallow breaths.  “Why didn’t you tell Satoru the truth?”

(y/n’s) eyes dart to anywhere but Shoko’s, cursing herself for getting caught in another lie.  Was she getting worse at this? When had she become so sloppy? When had her friends paid this close attention to her?

“Why did you run away after- after what happened?” Shoko asks another question before (y/n) could come up with an answer for this one.  “That… that sucked.  We needed you, (y/n).  I needed you, and you just- you vanished.  Why-”

“If I’d stuck around any longer, I was going to go after him,” (y/n) cuts her off, her eyes meeting Shoko’s again.  “If I hadn’t left, I was going to kill him,”

Shoko’s eyes widened, and she’s finally quiet for a moment.

“And the truth, Shoko, is… is I didn’t want to do it.  I couldn’t, but I… I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself,”

(y/n) pauses for a moment, her eyes still locked on Shoko, as every word she spoke was true.

“I could have stopped him, you know,” She admits.  “Before he went on that mission where he… did what he did… we had a fight,”

Again, Shoko looks shocked by this new information, and although she wants to press for more information, her mind is processing it all too slowly for her to know what to say.

“And I ignored it,” (y/n) muttered, kicking herself as she finally processed aloud what had happened.  “I was stupid.  I thought he was going to retire, like Nanami.  I never thought he would…” She trails off, not wanting to admit the cruel truth.

“(y/n)...” Shoko mumbled, her head shaking back and forth in a small motion.  “You couldn’t have known”

“But I could have,” (y/n) said, picking up the bag she’d dropped.  “I could have listened, I should have seen the signs, they were right there,”

Shoko bit down on her lip in an effort to keep it from quivering, but the truth was she hadn’t stopped crying since Suguru had left them with his harsh parting words.  Finding that (y/n) hadn’t returned to campus in the meantime was only the cherry on top of her heartbreak.

“Don’t worry,” (y/n) spoke as she reached into her bag, shuffling around before producing a small box.  “I won’t cause you pain like this ever again.  You don’t have to worry about me anymore,”

Before Shoko could ask her what that meant, (y/n) pressed the box into her hands with a smile.

“Best friends don’t do that to each other, right?” She asked softly, still smiling.

Shoko looked down to inspect what had been given to her.  A pack of cigarettes.  

Not just any pack of cigarettes, a Russian brand that Shoko had never splurged on for herself, claiming they were too expensive just to go straight to her lungs.  (y/n) always laughed and asked what the difference was, claiming they were going to kill them one day eventually either way.  Shoko never had a decent answer.

Looking at the sleek black cardboard box now, she frowned, before turning to find her friend was already walking away, the plastic bag hanging from her wrist as her hands were tucked into her pockets.

Was this part of the apology?

Shoko wondered, puzzled as she stared at the random gift.  Her fingers traced over it’s edges carefully as she tried to mentally pick apart everything that had just happened.

But why did it feel like an apology for something that hadn’t happened yet? ___

In the last eight months of her sneaking around, (y/n) tried to recall every lie she’d had to tell, no matter how huge.  She wondered if she was able to count them all, if she could put a price on them, and value them at some unachievable goal for her to atone.

She thinks it would be like trying to race to the moon with nothing but a pair of kicks.

It doesn’t matter now, she thinks to herself as she looks down at the small paper bag of treats in her hands, tied off with a pink string that she fought the urge to tug on.  No apology will amount to anything.  And this time tomorrow, they’ll never see me again.

This thought wasn’t groundbreaking, she’d known for some time now that the end was nearing.  Still, as the notion crossed her mind now, her throat began to sting with the white hot burn of tears.

It would be the end of everything, whether she succeeded or failed tomorrow didn’t matter.  Her crimes against the Zen’in Clan had caught up to her, and the crimes she’d yet to commit would seal her fate.  If she succeeded, she would be excommunicated, labeled a defect just as Geto Suguru had been, and if she was lucky she would spend the rest of her life running.  If she failed, then she would die in vain, and everything she’d fought for, lied for, everything she’d ever done in the name of protecting Fushiguro Toji’s children, would be for nothing.  Megumi would be sold back to his rightful owners, like the valuable piece of property they deemed him to be. Tsumiki would likely be tossed aside, put in the system if she was lucky.

The end of all things was near.

This would bring the end of her time at Jujutsu Tech, she realizes.  She’d never see her own graduation.  She’d never get to know if she would be promoted to a Grade One Sorcerer.  She’d never know if she could truly master Hexing Eye.

With the thoughts of the big milestones she’d be abandoning, came the thoughts of all the little things she’d be losing, too.

Shoko, Satoru, their faces came to mind as she struggled to stop herself from clutching the bag in her hands too tight.  She would never make things right with them.  She was going to walk out of their lives without explanation.  And when word got around of the terrible things she was going to do…

She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, willing her emotions to lay dormant, to not get the best of her in this moment.

They would never forgive her.

She was no better than Suguru.

And she had to accept that reality.

Why now did her heart try to argue with her mind? Now that she’d made her decision, why now did her heart put up a fight?

Her eyelashes are sticky when she opens her eyes, staring at the door before her with a sinking feeling.  She’d come here with a purpose, but since planting her feet at the door, she hadn’t found the strength to knock, choked up by her fear.

When this time comes tomorrow, she will be gone.  This would be the last thing she does for the people she’s going to abandon, and then she was going to disappear completely.

You have to do it now, the morbid voice in her head screams at her.  If you don’t do it now, you’ll never get another chance.

She swallows the lump in her throat, along with her pride, before she raises her fist to knock.  Again, her arm freezes on it’s own accord, and it’s as though it’s under a spell, as she couldn’t will it to just knock.  She’d been standing here for too long already, and she didn’t know how much more time she’d have.

Her teeth gnaw on her lip as she stares at the door with her mission on her mind.  She’s too focused on trying to notice the flash in the hallway beside her.

“Did you need something?”

(y/n) jumps out of her skin upon hearing the voice, swiveling on her heels to find Gojo Satoru standing beside her.  His brow furrows at her reaction, seeing as she was standing in front of his door with the clear intent of speaking to him, but he doesn’t comment on the strange behavior.

She’d been acting strange for the last few months now, he’s almost grown used to it.  Almost.  There was still a tug in his chest that longed to ask her what had brought on this change in her demeanor.

“You scared me” She finally spoke, although her words were mumbled.

Satoru tucks his hands in his pockets as his eyes study her.  While the sour part of his heart wanted to tell her to leave, the remains of the softness it once held for her spoke louder. (y/n) hadn’t spoken to him since the incident, so seeing her at his door now, clearly working up the courage to knock, has him curious.

He has a million things he wants to say, mostly questions to interrogate her with, but he keeps his mouth shut and his expression blank.  Maybe he didn’t want to turn her away, but he knows that she spent the night off campus, and the thought of where she could have been makes him sick to his stomach.  A slight grimace curls on his lip out of disgust.

Looking at her now, Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever felt so much vexation, so much contempt for her.  Until now, he didn’t think he possibly could.  He’d finally decided to drop the subject of her sneaking around, only to find out she’d been sneaking around with a Zen’in?

Sure he would have been upset by hearing the truth sooner, but it wasn’t like it was a criminal offense.  Just a stupid one.  But the secrecy of it all is what killed him, deep down.  All of the lies and the hiding, and for what?

For what? The question lingered in his mind the longer he looked at her.  She looked… weak.

Her eyelashes hung lower than usual, as if the act of keeping her eyes open was enough to exhaust her.  And judging by the dark half moons under her eyes, exhaustion had become familiar to her.  It looked as though a strong enough gust of wind could knock her down, had she lost weight?

Just as that dreaded sense of worry began to consume him, she finally broke the heavy silence that had fallen over them.

“Do you have a sec?”

Satoru’s nodding, stepping forward to slide his door open.  (y/n) watches as he swings his arm in a gesture for her to head in.  She seems to hesitate, so he sighs.

“Come on,” He gestures to his room again.  

(y/n) gnaws on her lip, still lingering at the doorway even once it had been opened for her.  She supposed she should have just left the treats at his door and cowered away when she had the chance.

With a sink of her shoulders, she steps into his room.  Satoru follows closely behind and makes sure to slide the door shut, before speaking again.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

___

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru @kamikokii @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @googlesheetshoe @vzleria @hilzup @cole-silas @iam-mia9 @stxrrielle @ezrahour @whatamidoing89 @idioseasworld @yuuuumii @l0diluvs @miffysoo @chibiizzy

xoxo ~ jordie

[callsign-venus]

Put a Bow on It | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You find out that Bradley's present-wrapping skills are... less than stellar, so it's up to you to save Christmas.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, a few very light sexual references, incompetence of a grown man, fluffy fluff fluff

a/n: Thank you for the love on my previous posts — I’m really thankful to everyone who reads my silly little stories. Hope y’all enjoy this one, Merry Christmas!

“You can’t look at me like that,” Bradley says.

“Like what?” You ask, though you know exactly what he means.

It’s not that you mean to look at him with such pity, but who can blame you?

You weren’t exactly sure how he got himself into such a mess when you were only in the kitchen making coffees. Wedged between a stack of boxed Barbies and no less than 12 rolls of wrapping paper scattered across your living room floor, Bradley looks less competent aviator and more like an unsupervised 5th grader. Tattered strips of Santa wrapping paper curl around him, scraps of tape line both of his exposed thighs, and he’s so flustered he hasn’t even removed the bright red bow you tied around his head earlier. You both look down at the lumpy present sitting on the rug in front of him. For all his efforts, it wasn’t a spectacular result. 

“You did great.” You have to hide your face with a drawn-out sip of coffee because you know if he catches a glimpse of your expression, he will call you out for your bald-faced lie.

He can tell anyway. “I’m not sure lying is the best way to get on the nice list.”

You do feel bad. It was your idea to get involved in the neighborhood toy drive, and despite his protests, you pleaded for Bradley to help.

“It will be fun,” you said before kissing his pouty lips. “I’ll make us coffees and you can light a fire and it’ll be so festive.”

“I’m sure it will be,” he cupped your face with his hands, “but I’m not lying when I say I can’t wrap a present to save my life.”

“You’ll do great.” You gave him another quick kiss and considered the matter over.

So, he didn’t do great. Could you really blame him? He tried to let you know beforehand, and it’s not like his military career was spent doing arts and crafts. You take another sip of your coffee before setting both mugs down and padding over to sit on the floor next to him.

“Am I off the wrapping duties?” He gives you a lopsided smile and slides his hand around your waist.

“You wish.” You reach over his lap and undo his wrapping job. “Get ready to learn a thing or two.”

He laughs when you use his own words against him, as you have throughout your entire relationship.

When you two weren’t yet dating – but still very much infatuated with each other – Bradley used pool as an excuse to get close to you, though no excuses were needed. You were putty in his hands already.

“Get ready to learn a thing or two,” he’d murmured in your ear. It was a Friday evening and The Hard Deck was packed, so he had to get close — mustache-ticking-your-ear close — so you could hear him over the rowdy crowd of sailors. And he was teaching you how to make a combination shot, so he had to wrap his arms around you so he could guide you through the motions. And you were a receptive student, so you had to lean against him so he could feel the curve of your ass — just so he knew his technique was working.

Now, nearly a year later on the rug of your living room, you slide up behind Bradley like he did that Friday night, your fingers gliding down his thick biceps towards his hands. They’re huge under yours, earning a laugh from both of you.

“Sweet girl, I’m not sure this is gonna work,” he says as you rest your chin on his shoulder. The curled ribbon from the bow in his hair tickles your check.

“Well, I know how to play pool thanks to this little trick. I’m sure I can use it to teach you how to wrap a present.”

You guide one of his hands toward the pair of scissors and another towards the pile of wrapping paper.

“Since I’m a great teacher, I’ll even let you pick which paper to use,” you say.

He lingers over the rolls for a moment, ultimately choosing a cranberry red paper with prints of cars carrying snow-dusted Christmas trees.

“Ok, now let’s roll it out. Look at me, Bradley.”

He pulls back a little so you can make complete eye contact. Even after months of dating, his warm brown eyes undo something in you, leaving you feeling like you’re brushing shoulders with the clouds. How did you ever get so lucky?

“It’s very important to measure the paper before cutting,” your voice softens as you drop the strict teacher act. “Put the Barbie at the edge of the wrapping paper, then you kinda fold up the other edge and see if it’s long enough.”

He takes a moment to soak you in before he can bring his attention back to the present. Up close, he can fully appreciate the graceful curve of your lips, the exact shade of your eyes. In the weepy, late morning sunlight, you are radiant.

The fire crackles in the background. The only other sound is your synchronous breathing.

You lean in slightly. “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but I promised Cathy that we’d deliver the presents by 2, so you need to get moving.”

“You should boss me around more often.” He stares at you for a second longer before turning his attention back to the present.

You’re glad he turns around so he can’t witness the violent shade of red your face flushes — nearly as red as the wrapping paper.

Once the paper’s measured, you show him how to cut it with one swooshing glide of the scissors.

“It’s like I’m a professional,” he says.

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.” You squeeze his hands gently. “We’ve still got to tape this sucker up.”

He groans as you peel the scraps of tape off his thigh.

“How did you even do this to yourself?” You collect all the tape into one big wad. “You’re a grown man”

He shrugs. “I guess my mom was gone before she could teach me.”

At the mention of his mom, your heart melts. What you wouldn’t give to have her here for him, to walk him through this process he should have learned years ago. To spend another Christmas with her boy. You run your fingers through his sun-lightened locks. One night when you two first started dating, you sat on your porch alone. Under soft-falling moonlight, you promised Carole that you’d be there for her son; promised her that she and Goose could count on you to make sure he’d always be ok.

Something in Bradley’s face makes you think you were doing just fine on your promise. You can’t help the heat that rises to your checks when you catch him staring at you.

Then, with a mischievous smile, he swipes the tape wad from you, aims it, and launches it right at your face.

You try to get mad, to lecture him about the children who will be let down on Christmas morning without their Barbie doll, but the grin on his lips washes away any amount of anger you could dredge up. He wags his eyebrows and you can’t contain your laughter as it spills out of you and fills up the living room.

“You can’t be trusted with this dangerous weapon.” You grab the tape dispenser and wipe a tear from your eye. “I’ll rip the tape for you so you can just focus on folding.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m actually trusted with dangerous weapons daily at work.”

You roll your eyes, but to his credit, Bradley is willing to learn. You gently guide him through the folds, but he picks it up pretty quick given that he doesn’t have to juggle the wrapping paper and the tape.

“That’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.” He holds up the present, admiring the sharp folds and the perfectly festive wrapping paper. “And I’ve got the perfect girl to thank.”

You dodge his incoming kiss, instead patting his cheek and standing up.

His brows knot in confusion before he realizes what you’ve gotten up to retrieve: a roll of velvety green ribbon.

You hold it up triumphantly. “One final touch.”

The absolute pain on his face steals the grin off yours.

You sink back down to the floor and wrap him tight in your arms, sliding your hand up his back to rub circles between his shoulders.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs against your chest, “I really don’t have that in me.”

You kiss the top of his head. If Bradley draws the line here, you’re more than happy to finish the wrapping. Hell, you’d even lace his fucking shoes if it spared him the torture of tying any more bows. You are head-over-heels for Bradley Bradshaw, and you know he knows it. It’s a good thing he’s equally head-over-heels for you.

“Ok, Bradshaw, I’ll tie the bow, but I’ll need a little help.” You break away from him and begin unspooling the ribbon. “I know your mom taught you this.”

And he smiles because he knows what’s coming.

You twist the ribbon around the package, cross-crossing it over the top. You look to him, and already he’s jumping into action. He ceremoniously raises a finger and plants it perfectly on the intersection of the ribbon.

“Perfect.” You steadily finish the bow. It’s really good, you have to admit: entirely symmetrical, huge and bouncy like a cartoon.

And then Bradley is on top of you, pulling you into his lap, smushing kisses along your jaw, working his way to your lips. His kisses are hungry, but not sinfully so. You’re hungry too. Hungry to share the rest of your lives together. To wrap presents for your kids on Christmas Eve while they pretend to be asleep down the hall. To savor early Christmas mornings in matching pajamas, sipping hot chocolate while a fire sings in the hearth. Late Christmas evenings where he pulls you into his lap on the piano bench and plays your favorite carols — a little sloppily from the spiked eggnog and having to reach around you. 

“I’m not in your way?” You would ask, already knowing his answer.

“No, you are right where you need to be.”

And he would play long into the night, celebrating the fact that he gets to spend Christmas with his sweet girl. No December 26th would pass without you waking up to find you had both lost your voices.

Your phone rings, rudely barging into your domestic dreams of the future. You’re tempted to ignore it, but Bradley accepts the call and brings it to your ear, leans his forehead against yours.

“Hey, Cathy,” you say.

“Is there any chance you can get the presents here sooner?” You and Bradley can both hear how harried the toy drive organizer sounds. “Sorry to even ask, you know I appreciate you, but some paperwork got messed up and —”

“Sure thing, don’t worry about it.” You break in to spare her the breath.

“Thank you,” she says. “And bring that sailor of yours, too. I might need help loading the truck.”

You laugh. “I’ll make sure to bring him along.”

“Thank you so much, sweetie. See ya soon.”

“See you soon.” You hang up your phone and toss it on the floor.

You peck Bradley on the check.  “Ok, ready to put those new skills to good use?”

“Ready.” He smiles and runs his hands through your hair. “Ready to do anything for you.”

You scramble out of his lap because if he keeps looking at you like that, you definitely won’t get the presents to Cathy on time.

You turn on the TV and fetch your still-steaming coffees from the table. Quickly, you and Bradley settle into an easy wrapping rhythm, the hum of a carol floating out of your TV, accompanied by the silent promise of all your Christmases — and many wrapped presents — to come.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

You put a lot small visual elements and details in that I never seem to notice on my first read, and it always makes rereading exciting. What’s a detail from the comic that nobody ever seemed to notice? I’m sure there are things that nobody has mentioned, especially from the early chapters, that you’d want to talk about

Oh man.........that's a great question.

The thing is, there are a lot of details that people don't pick up, but there are definitely eagle-eyed readers that also do! There are also details which most didn't pick up until someone posted about it, and now everyone knows!

There are also details which are actually... yet to be revealed as relevant! That's a secret tool that'll help us later. :)

But most of it is plot relevant decisions I make which make the story more full, but are not necessarily NECESSARY for full enjoyment.

For example, in the very first comic, when Earl approaches Steven....

Her eye isn't white! That was a fully deliberate decision. She didn't actually approach Steven because he wanted her to. That was a decision she made on her own!

Most of the white eye shenanigans in Season 1 were deliberate, albeit not very explicit. I suppose that worked out okay, though. Plus, many people DID catch on!

Also, this part in the Kindergarten comic:

...which people assumed was a power separate from everything, is actually just the first instance of Steven's Command power. The thing is, I hadn't settled into how to portray it at the time, and also - the gem is Corrupted! It doesn't respond to Steven's commands the same way normal gems do. I planned to explore that earlier initially, but in the end, decided to tie it into much later plot.

In Season 1, EP 38, Steven asks Earl to write her name.... and she does! But in gem, not English, because she doesn't know how to write in English.

She designates herself as White Pearl, putting the dash over the top diamond. It was at the time when she was still anxious about making Steven - White Diamond - angry with her.

And to add to the eye thing - during the Season finale of Season 2, when Steven wondered if Earl only came to see him because he forced her to - the comic where she finds him in the water proves otherwise!

Immediately when she grabs him and swims up, her eyes aren't white! She's doing it of her own accord.

Also, in Season 3's opening, when Rose is angry at what she THINKS is White Diamond, she almost has a slip of the tongue when talking about the past.

There's a very pointed reason that panel of Earl is right there next to Rose's cut-off 'My...'

Also, when Rose leaves Steven in the Containment Sphere - the Baby Jail Bubble - she unlocks it to leave, and you can pretty clearly see an interesting detail.

(which Steven, of course, doesn't notice.)

There's also a bit of a narrative tongue in cheek line-up which is accidental on Steven's part but still rings true:

(TVTropes editors caught this one! Hey TVTrope editors!)

Also, this very famous Seaglass foreshadowing:

The first instance of Steven connecting to tech was in the beginning of this season!

When Steven has a bad dream after fusing with Earl and forming Bleached Coral, there's a hidden detail in this reflective text from Nightmare Rose:

(It might be easier to read if you mirror-flip it.)

Another fun thing I enjoyed doing before I got busy with other stuff is gem language! Earl writes Steven notes in it to help him learn, and now signs with her English name,

In the Cluster Experiments comic, if you look at the panels before stuff starts to Happen, you can find a few Experiments hiding in the background. :)

In Amethyst's room, there is a Japanese stopsign and a d20 in the background.

In episode 25 of season 4, Steven is playing Moonlight Sonata!

In episode 33, the ship Steven connects to displays a bisection of the earth which showcases its lumpy core! Or rather, the megastructures that are hidden deep inside the mantle.

It also showcases a few geothermal coring sites made during the colonization.

And by the way, the drill Pearl built was actually a repurposed ship hull which was used for the Space Race ship in the original show!

And man there are actually... many more! But I had to skip over them because they are alluding to things which have not yet been explicitly revealed! :D

But even with this, I'm sure there are other ones I'm missing. If you think you have one that should be listed - throw it on a reblog or in the comments!

[suzukiblu]

Another 1k of Kara getting to Earth on time and the Kents getting a two-for-one special on free kids for @qwertynerd97.

Kara steels herself against that thought as Ma and Pa speak with the server, and she(?) makes little markings on a rectangular pad in her hand. It takes Kara a moment to realize, but she thinks the server is actually recording their order by hand. 

Huh. 

What a strange concept. 

The server leaves with the menus and Ma and Pa speak to each other for a moment, and then both start cooing at Kal. He giggles and waves his little dog at them, and they coo at him some more. Kara feels an aching sense of loss and loneliness and too many other things to name and smiles at him and his little toy. 

“Is Krypto’s puppy having fun, Kal? Are you having a good time together?” she asks him, keeping her voice sweet and light. Kal burbles delightedly in reply, then starts to purr happily at her and cuddles his dog again. Ma and Pa blink, both looking confused. Kara isn’t sure why. Kal’s safe and content; why wouldn’t he purr? 

Kal purrs a lot, usually. Kara . . . Kara isn’t sure how many more times he’ll do that, once he realizes Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara are gone. Once he realizes they’ve “left” him and aren’t coming back. 

Though it’s the two of them that left everyone else, of course. 

So she’s going to treasure the sound of his purring now, while they’re both safe and alive and she doesn’t know how many more times she might hear it. If Kal never purrs again, though, well–well at least he’s safe. At least he’s alive. 

At least they’re together, if nothing else. 

Kara can’t imagine doing this alone, even knowing that Kal is still so small and helpless. Being the only one here at all, though . . . 

No, she really can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine what she’d do like that, alone with her grief on a planet full of strangers she knows nothing about and can’t speak the language of. 

If Kal were dead too . . . 

She crushes that thought. He’s not dead. He’s alive. Alive and fine. Happy in her lap with his little stuffed toy and Ma and Pa’s attention. Sweet and content and happy in her lap. 

She thinks of every Kryptonian child who's not sweet and content and happy in someone's lap right now, who won’t ever be again, and then crushes that thought too. 

Ma and Pa talk to each other in their odd, flat-sounding voices but surprisingly expressive tones. Their voices lack the resonance of Kryptonian ones, but their tones express much more than any Kryptonian's would. At least, more than any Kryptonian not emotionally overwhelmed would. 

It’s . . . hard to quantify the difference, exactly. There’s a hollowness to their voices, a missing echo or vibration somewhere in there, but they do much more with them. 

But they still sound so, so kind. 

The server comes back with a heavy tray of food, after a little while. She(?) lays out a succession of large round plates and platters all full to bursting with foods that Kara doesn’t recognize, all of them peculiar-looking and strange-smelling, though those unfamiliar smells are unexpectedly appetizing too. There’s mounds of something lumpy and yellow, thinly-sliced strips of . . . meat, she thinks, and more mounds of some kind of shredded–vegetable, maybe? And then a few large round light brown discs, stacked neatly on top of each other and taking up the majority of their own plates. 

It really does all smell good. 

Kara feels like crying for no real reason and also every possible reason, and tries to smile at the Kents.

Kal should see her smiling, she reminds herself.

They really don’t have to be this kind, though. But the Kents just smile back at her, and make encouraging gestures at the plates in front of her and Kal, and so she keeps smiling, and she eats the food and feeds little bits and bites of the softest bits of it to Kal. Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor only just started weaning him, but he’s eager to try everything she can deem suitable for him to. He’ll need milk too, obviously, but . . . it’s a start, anyway. 

The food is greasy and warm and buttery, and it’s both soothing to fill her stomach with it and nauseating to be eating anything at all. Their world is dead. Their family is dead. 

But Kal should see her smiling, and she needs to be strong for him, so she smiles, and she eats, and she doesn’t burst into tears in the middle of the restaurant and make a scene. 

She wants to, but she doesn’t. 

Kal likes the yellow lumps best. Kara doesn’t like anything, because it all tastes like ash in her mouth. But she . . . appreciates it, at least. It’s warm, and it fills her stomach, and Kal likes it. 

She wants to lay down and cry for a lifetime, but she’s hyper-aware of what a waste of a lifetime that would be. Her parents died for her. Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara died for Kal. Any one of them could’ve taken one of the ships; any one of them could’ve lived instead of them. 

But they didn’t. They gave them to her and Kal, and they died. 

So she can’t waste what they’ve given her. So she needs to take care of Kal, and make sure he’s happy. Make sure he can have the kind of life Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara would’ve wanted for him. Take care of him, like their family wanted. Protect him. 

She wants him safe. She needs him safe. She . . . she . . . 

Kal giggles over a funny face Pa is making at him, hiding his own face behind his toy. Uncle Jor isn’t the one who bought him that toy. Aunt Lara isn’t the one who’s lap he’s sitting in. Neither of them ordered this food. 

Kara is never going to see her parents again. There aren’t even bodies left. 

There’s nothing left of any of their family at all, except for the two of them.

[sweetracha]

No thoughts only building snowmen with felix and then him getting grumpy bc yours looks cuter

Do you Wanna Build a Snowman?

"Lixie come on! You're going to catch a cold" you said as you rounded the corner in your new home.

"It'll all melt away! Hurry" Felix sounded like a little child worried about his double chocolate cookie crunch extreme scoop of ice cream.

Who could blame him though? Felix couldn't remember the last time he had seen snow. You mentioned how badly the streets would thick over with ice and be packed with white as far as the eye could see. To Felix, this could never be a bad thing. How could it be?

You ran through a mental checklist, ensuring you were both ready for the cold about to hit you. Sure, you were used to it by now but somedays the winter bites back. Felix on the other hand was ready to run out blind to his death, the Aussie would never survive without you.

Thick socks? Check.

Warm boots? Check.

Pants with leggings underneath? Double-check

Long sleeves? Check

Coats? Check and a matching check as Felix insisted you two had to have a matching set.

Gloves? Check much to Felix's complaining 

And finally, a hat to keep your head warm? Check!

When you opened the front door, Felix dashed out with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the pure joy on his face. He found the thickest pile of snow in the middle of your yard, where your garden used to be, and fell to his knees. You should have guessed the gloves would have been long forgotten by now as he feels the snow melt on his bare skin. There was no way to sneak up beside him as the unmistaken crunch of packed snow sounded from under your feet. You crouched next to him and took in all his beauty. It was his first life, wasn’t it?

“Lixie baby?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb his fun. All you got back was a simple hum to acknowledge he was listening. “Do you want to build a snowman?” You thought he was about to die from how quickly he lit up.

“Yes! We could make a cute snow couple!” His mind went running with ideas.

“Pixie, have you ever built a snowman?”

“No but how hard could it be? Animal crossing taught me everything I need to know.”

Oh how wrong he was. Felix quickly realized he had put too much confidence in his ability to build a snow person. It wasn’t meant to be a competition but he decided himself to make it one. Then he looked over at yours, almost finished while he was barely started. 

Yours was perfectly round and white.

His was lumpy and had random mud stains all over.

Yours was perfectly proportional.

His head always ended up being bigger than the middle.

Yours had arms specifically grown by Mother Nature herself.

His looked as if a dog dragged them in.

Even the face on your snowman looked perfect! Brown buttons you stole out of the craft drawer, a little carrot nose from the fridge, little pebbles curved up into the biggest smile. You even broke off tiny flakes of bark to make the freckles on your snowman! 

Wait…freckles…on a snowman? Brown buttons, a big smile, a blue scarf, a matching hat, Felix’s missing gloves, and freckles.

“Y/n!” He didn’t know what to say so he decided to scream your name to get your attention. However, that backfired miserably as you fell straight on your butt onto the cold ground.

“Felix!” You yelled back. He ran as fast as he could to save you.

“I’m sorry…I just..your snowman…he is…” 

“He is you!” Felix swore the smile you shared could have cleared the skies. “Do you like him?”

“I LOVE HIM!!!” He got up close and personal to inspect every little detail. “How?”

“I’ve had some practice” He fell for your giggle every time.

“Mine looks so…sad” Just then the oversized head rolled off and smashed into pieces.

“Maybe I can help you? I bet we could make him a real find!” Felix liked this idea much more than the competition he was participating in.

“Gotta make Snowlix the perfect man!” Felix stated as if it was an indisputable fact.

“So snowbin, got it”

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s