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elliesflower · 2 years

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i hate u [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x afab!reader

word count; 3.8k how tf did that happen

cw; language, mentions of death, angst (like, so much angst), enemies to lovers, eventual smut

summary; abby has always had it out for you. the feeling was mutual.

until it wasn't.

an; hiiii, it's me, providing you with the abby content i'm devoid of. i love this buff lesbian woman so fucking much.

read pt 2 here!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I'LL CRY (and as always read it on AO3 here <3)

there were much more productive ways you could be spending your time. you could be, i don’t know—literally doing anything else other than being forced to clean these goddamned bathrooms.

it’s not that you didn’t mind cleaning, no. in fact, under ideal circumstances, cleaning could actually be fun for you. there was just a big problem with who it forced you into a room with this time. with her stupid long french braid, and her absurdly large muscles—like seriously, what the fuck was she showing off for? we’re killing scars, not for training for the fucking rapture.

“you know, if you move the mop in a back-and-forth motion, it would actually clean the floors.”

to put it quite plainly, abby doesn’t like you. you said left, she had to say right; you say go, she had to say stop—the mutual loathing was just routine at this point, it came almost as natural as breathing. surely it didn’t help that the two of you were typically sent on assignments that involved being together for far too many hours at a time. rarely was it made only slightly better by the presence of someone else, another body to diffuse even an ounce of the tension that hung between the two of you like a rope.

you scoffed at her juvenile insolence, though you started mopping again nonetheless. “trust me, i don’t want to be here any longer than i have to. i have shit to do,” you jeered, making it a point to look down at the ground, watching the soapy water spread across the tile. not at the way her muscles—have you mentioned they’re absurdly large?—flexed as she wiped down the counter with bleach.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize i was keeping you from something!” abby exclaimed, feigning ignorance. “by all means, you run off and do whatever it is you have to do, and i’ll just finish this little punishment all by myself.”

you had to bite back a bitter laugh, instead choosing to shake your head at the ground, your mopping becoming just a little bit more aggressive with each stroke. you chose to ignore it. you almost had her completely tuned out of your mind, until you didn’t.

“it’s not like i was the one who just let that scar go.” that stopped you dead in your tracks.

abby has said a lot of things to you. a lot of untrue things. a lot of hurtful things, even. and again, it was entirely possible you could have even ignored that. but then you looked up—and you saw her stupid, imprudent fucking smirk, and it was over. “you know what abby?” you started, throwing your mop. you didn’t even have the energy to smile at the way she flinched when the wooden handle hit the ground with a loud bang. she played it off quickly, though, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the counter. you didn’t expect the sudden lump in your throat.

“fuck you.”

the words didn’t come out exactly like you’d hoped. maybe there was a slight hesitation, the faintest crack between the syllables, a single tear threatening to spill down your cheek—but you meant it, wholeheartedly.

fuck abigail anderson.

you couldn't bother to give her even a second thought as you turned on your heel, ignoring her calls of your name from behind you. perhaps a bit childish, but you slammed the door extra hard on your way out.

let that scar go? is she fucking for real?

you were so tired of having to prove your place here to her. isaac sent you both on the same assignments, he trusts you just as much as her to do his most important jobs, but it never seems to be good enough. whether it was jealousy or stubbornness, you could never be quite sure.

time and time again you’ve tried to make nice with abby; you had actually wanted to be friends with her—the jaunty girl who never seemed to let her past slow her down, taking every opportunity to crack a sarcastic joke and practically jumping in front of bullets for the people she loved—you’d tried to spark friendly conversation, volunteered to take some of her extra assignments, even offered her a book you’d overheard her mentioning she wanted to read that you just happened to have on your bookshelf, but it was all futile. she wanted nothing to do with you, like your presence alone was a personal inconvenience. so, naturally, you stopped trying—yet, the two of you almost always somehow ended up in the same room together, whether it was a drunken night in leah and nora’s room, or cleaning bathrooms as a stupid punishment.

but one, one little slip up and that’s all it took. you took your eyes off that scar for a split fucking second, and now she’ll never let you live it down. you were furious, angry tears clouding your vision as you stormed away, down the hallway and practically sprinting up the stairs to your room.

she can clean that bathroom all by herself, you thought as you fumbled to get your keys out of your pocket, dropping them on the ground in your haste. “fuck!” you exclaimed, bending down to pick them up, searching for the small silver key on the ring.

“there you are,” a sudden voice from behind startles you enough that you flinch, dropping your keys again. of fucking course.

“go away abby,” you practically snarl, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks with your palm before she could see. despite your weak protest, you could hear her heavy footsteps getting closer as you finally unlocked the door, pushing it open and slipping inside.

“oh, come on,” abby was right on your heels, pressing a hand against the door and preventing it from fully closing behind you. your eyes felt like they might roll into the back of your head.

“i’m sorry, what part of ‘go away’ was unclear to you?” you snapped, turning around to glower at her through the small crack in the doorway. her arm strength was incredible, she was barely leaning against the door as you pushed with an embarrassing amount of effort to try and close it on her. what you lacked in brawn, you pride yourself in making up for with brains—yet another reason it was already embarrassing enough that you fucked up, now she was practically rubbing it in your face.

abby’s eyes held a look you couldn’t quite understand. no way she was apologetic, but her face held a certain softness to it you’d never quite seen before. usually her face was all rigid lines and sharp angles, clenched jaw and guarded eyes, especially with you. it was rare for her to smile around you, now that you thought about it.

“can we talk?” abby asked, and her voice was almost…pitiable. her eyes were low and her pink lips parted slightly. it was unnerving. she never asked you for anything, let alone to talk. your eyes flickered across her face, trying to make sense of what she was really trying to say, beneath the surface.

but there was really nothing to say to that. no, you wanted to scream, no we can’t fucking talk, fuck you, and i never want to talk to you again. but you said nothing, instead shaking your head and turning away, letting the door swing open against the pressure of her hand.

“why do you hate me so much?” your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, arms crossing defensively over your chest, though you were no longer facing her.

“why do i hate you?” she scoffed, and you heard the door closing softly.

“yes, why?” you spun around to face her now—she still stood near the door, that same indecipherable expression painted on her face. you avoided her eyes, but noted the way her nose twitched ever so slightly. “ever since i stepped foot in this stadium you’ve had it out for me, and no matter how hard i try, i can’t understand why,” oh fuck, the anger was coming back up, rising in your throat like bile, “is it because i don’t put up with your shit anymore?”

“no,” abby gritted out, taking a step toward you. “listen, i—”

“because i see right through your little act?” you cut her off and wow, she was fuming now, chest rising and falling heavily as she clenched her fists together. “stop it, i’m trying to—”

but you couldn’t stop, even if you didn’t mean it, “‘ooh poor me, my dad died and now i’m stronger because of it, and everybody loves me,’” the words stung in your mouth, and in your eyes, “‘i’m isaac’s top scar killer but i have a heart of gold,’” tears falling as you stomped toward her, “well good for fucking you abby. i’ve lost a lot of people too but you don’t see me acting like i’m better than everyone.”

you couldn’t help it, you were pushing her before you knew it, right in the chest with as much strength as you could muster, and she wasn’t expecting it because she stumbled backwards into your bookshelf, a picture frame falling and shattering on the ground before she caught her footing.

you looked her right in the eyes for the first time since she had entered your room, uninvited, and all you saw was flames, burning through her blue irises like wildfire. you stepped back, wide-eyed and disoriented, her figure nothing more than a blurry silhouette in front of you. her heavy breathing was all that you could hear, it consumed you, made you dizzy as you staggered backwards, that ineffable sadness reaching into your chest and squeezing around your heart, fuck, how does she do this to you?

“for fucks sake, would you just listen?” abby’s asked suddenly. her voice was rough around the edges, chipped away by your words—you couldn’t look at her, it was too much, a sob escaping your throat before you could stop it. why did you say that to her? she was reaching toward you before you could say another word, you half expected her to hit you, to strangle you, to say fuck you and never speak to you again, but then her calloused fingers were gripping your forearm.

“abby,” your voice was pathetic, broken and whiny, god, you were completely out of control. you let your arm go limp, watching as her hand practically burned an impression into your skin as she pulled you into her chest. you were overwhelmed by her scent, that fucking pine soap she always hoarded and faintest hint of bleach that burned your nose, reminding you of what started this in the first place.

no, this couldn’t be real life, there was no way you were crying in front of abby, your biggest vulnerabilities tumbling from your lips like an avalanche, but her arms were there, wrapping around your shoulders like a blanket as her head fell into the crook of your neck. you couldn’t tell whose heart was beating faster, her pulse pounding against your ear as your arms hung limp by your side. your brain was absolutely spinning trying to figure out what to make of this, a few loose strands of her braid hair tickling the side of your cheek as you shifted your head.

“i’m sorry,” her strained voice bled down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, her breath hot against your shoulder as she tightened her grip. instinctively, you wrapped your arms around her waist, giving in to her touch, her apology washing over you like a humid rain in the summer—you’d waited so long just to hear those two little words, but it felt wrong somehow. “i’m sorry,” she repeated, quieter now, though you were probably the one who should be saying that.

“abby,” you found yourself saying again, squeezing your eyes shut as you leaned into her, feeling the tightness of her back muscles flex as you flattened your hands against her back, oh god, what the fuck is happening right now? “i didn’t mean that,” you whispered, muffled slightly against her shirt. the words i’m sorry usually came easy to you, often apologizing for things that didn’t warrant one in the first place, but the words were harder to get out somehow in this moment, pressed against the fabric of her shirt.

her grip on you loosened, her arms sliding down your back and she was gone in an instant, turning away, clasping her fingers together and bringing them to the back of her neck.

“i don’t hate you,” but she couldn’t face you, dropping her arms to her hips as she looked at the ground. you watched the anxious tapping of her foot and it felt like you couldn’t breathe—isn't this what you wanted? to be friends, or at the very least, for her to not hate you? maybe then, but not now. “i’m intimidated.” she was quiet, turning to face you. the orange glow of the lamp cascaded over her face, painting her in the softest form you’d ever seen her in.

“intimidated?” you were taken aback, furrowing your brow. “by me?” you shook your head, incredulous at her sudden confession. what could she possibly be intimidated by? “abby, you’re-” you gestured at her, unsure of what to say. “-you could probably snap me in half if you wanted to, i-i don’t understand-”

“oh trust me, i know,” abby cut you off, scoffing, and fuck, she just couldn’t help herself could she? you were mortified she’d caught you in a moment of weakness, you were angry, you were so fucking confused. your pity quickly soured, tears dried up in an instant, the disdain seeping back into your skin like a parasite—no matter how many times the two of you got close to reconciling, it always went wrong somehow. it had felt different this time, but maybe you were wrong.

“abby, i swear to god i-”

“okay, okay, i’m sorry,” she softened again, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “old habits die hard, am i right?”

you squinted at her, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “does this really seem like the time to be making a fucking joke? because the door is right there,” you made a show of pointing at the door before turning to sit on the chair behind you, bending over to take off your boots. anything to avoid looking her in the eye.

“fuck, i’m sorry, i don’t know how to talk to you about this,” she was walking towards you now, and you didn’t bother to look up. she sat opposite you in the mismatched chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. you looked up at her through wet lashes as you pulled your boots off, tossing them haphazardly to the side. she looked just as confused as you felt, brows furrowed in frustration—nothing about this felt normal, or okay.

“what i’m trying to say is that i’m sorry,” she started, dropping her head to look at the ground.

“you said that already,” you noted dryly, scooting back in the chair and pulling your knees to your chest protectively. she laughed, but it didn’t sound bitter.

“i’m sorry, for everything,” abby looked at you now, and your breath hitched. “for how i’ve acted around you. for the way i’ve treated you, the things i’ve said. all of it,” her eyes were full of sorrow, and it made her look a way you’d never seen before—vulnerable, fragile, empty. “right after you moved onto the base, leah told me about what you’ve been through, losing your parents and your brother, being forced into that military school, and still fighting to get here all the way from boston. if i’m being honest, i was jealous that you could take it all in stride.”

you could do nothing but stare at her, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

“from the minute you got here, you were so calm and collected, ready to help anyone who needed it. you were constantly volunteering for extra assignments, helping out in the classrooms, doing all the work that no one else wanted to do with a smile on your face…i know we all have a past but i never could’ve guessed yours,” she let her head fall again, clasping her hands together and taking a deep breath, “and god, you’re so fucking smart, like there’s no way you learned all the shit you know about history at that dumb military school.”

your mouth fell open slightly, trying to process her words. first, an apology, and then a compliment? no smart-ass comments, no snarky look, no just kidding. you’d never even talked with her about your love of history that much, let alone your family.

“abby,” you started, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. your brain and your mouth were fighting over what to say, the years of dissention between the two of you threatening to surface—but she seemed genuine. bouncing her leg up and down, abby continued to avoid your gaze as she picked at her cuticles.

“when i first got here, i was a mess.” she cut you off. “i could barely eat or sleep, i hid in my room whenever i wasn’t out on an assignment, and i didn’t care about anyone or anything. it took me months to get past it all and then you came along, so open and easygoing, even after everything you’ve been through…i was embarrassed.”

“everybody handles grief differently,” you said quietly, putting your feet back on the ground. she looked up at you, and her cheeks were wet. you swallowed thickly. “i wasn’t always that happy behind closed doors.”

abby frowned slightly. she was quiet now, pensive as she held your gaze. your cheeks burned under the scrutiny, and you wanted to shrink into the chair. less than an hour ago you had all the intention in the world of never speaking to abby again, and now she was sat, taking up space in your room, and your mind, fuck, how was she always on your mind?

“that still doesn’t explain why you were so mean to me,” you broke the silence after taking another second to process her words, and tears were clouding your vision again.

“yeah, if i’m still being honest, i don’t really have an explanation for that either. or, not a good one, at least,” she at least had the decency to look sheepish, leaning back and scratching her neck lightly. “i guess because i was so intimidated by the way you handled yourself, i just defaulted to…jealous rage?” she sounded unsure, and you scoffed.

“wow,” you said. “you’re right, that is a terrible explanation,” you shook your head, leaning back to match her pose. she laughed again, looking up to the ceiling, and it sounded foreign.

“i’m not the best with words,” she smiled weakly, a blush creeping up her neck.

“trust me, i could tell by all your elementary insults.”

“hey, didn’t i just say i was sorry?”

you smiled back at her now, against your better judgment. the two of you had spent the past three years practically at each other’s throats, and a simple i’m sorry i was mean to you because i don’t know how to handle my emotions was supposed to fix it all?

“i meant it though,” abby said softly now, eyes boring into yours. “i’m sorry. for everything.”

you held her gaze a moment longer, but had to look away. you had to, before she could see that you were caving, that all you’ve ever wanted to hear was that—that you wanted to just talk to her without always being on guard, that you wanted to know her favorite music and what she really thought about all of manny’s sexcapades and if she ever took her hair down from that goddamn french braid and— “you don’t have to forgive me. not right now, anyways. i just hope that one day you can.”

and then she was standing up, your eyes followed up her torso as she stood, smoothing her shirt down before giving you another weak smile and heading for the door. oh god, fuck, fuck all of this, “abby, wait,” you were up and after her in a heartbeat, grabbing her forearm just as she had yours earlier, forcing her to turn around. she looked surprisedly, first at your face, then down at your grip on her forearm, which you quickly dropped when you felt your heart skipping a beat. her eyes were wild, tired and full of anguish.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you were practically throwing yourself at her, arms wrapping around her torso as you pressed your cheek into her chest. she stumbled only briefly, before you felt her arms envelope your shoulders once more. this time, it didn’t feel wrong.

it felt like coming home.

“i really shouldn’t have said that thing about your dad,” you said, but it was muffled in her shirt.

you felt her laugh rumble in her chest before she squeezed you tighter, her head lowering into your neck so that you felt her lips on your shoulder as she spoke. “yeah, that was pretty fucked up.”

you smiled into her, and god, this was all fucked up. the world was fucked up, and out of it was born you and abby—two fucked up people making fucked up choices that lead to some pretty fucked up consequences.

she pulled back from you, but kept her hands on your shoulders. you took a fistful of her shirt, looking down to avoid her eyes. your stomach was flipping, the heat radiating from her body overwhelming you and making you feel dizzy. “can you forgive me?”

and yeah, that was maybe your fucked up, roundabout way of telling abby, i do forgive you, but she seemed to understand. when you dared to look back up, she dropped a hand, and the other came to softly caress your cheek. she looked at you tenderly, the rough pad of her thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed.

“of course i can.”

and then there was only the sound of your heart thrumming in your ears, her quickened breath as she looked at you in a way you’d never seen before. you gripped her shirt tighter, lips parting slightly as you felt the weight of her hand against your cheek. you leaned into it, eyes slipping closed for a moment.

“abby,” you whispered, your free hand coming up to hold hers in place against your cheek.

“shh,” she shushed you softly, and you could sense her getting closer. you didn’t dare open your eyes, heat pooling in your stomach as you felt her breath fanning across your face.

“don’t speak.”

her lips pressed against yours so softly that for a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby x you #abby anderson smut #the last of us part 2 #i love abby anderson w my whole heart #also thank u to mia for reading most of this and reassuring tf out of me

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unclewaynemunson · 2 years

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The final part to the Wingman Wayne AU is here! (And I also decided to publish the whole thing on ao3!!!)

'You got somethin' you wanna tell me?' asks Wayne when he steps out of the trailer to join Eddie for a smoke, the door creaking behind him.

Eddie still can't believe how that man never fails to be one step ahead of him.

'Um... Can I um...' He clears his throat. He doesn't know why he's being so nervous all of a sudden – it's just Wayne, after all. 'We're having dinner together tomorrow, right?'

'Always on Sunday,' Wayne confirms. His perceptive blue eyes wander over his nephew’s face like he's concerned about something. Then, a strong hand lands on Eddie’s shoulder.

'You know you can tell me anything, right?'

Of course he does. He breathes out, thinks back to that excited look in Wayne’s eyes when he first gave Eddie that number. Wayne’s safe. Always has been, always will be.

'Can I invite my boyfriend?'

His uncle arches an eyebrow, deepening the lines on his forehead. 'Your boyfriend, huh?' he repeats. 'Is he named Chad?'

Eddie bursts into laughter. Of course he would react like that.

'No, he's not,' he answers. 'He's named Steve.'

'Ha! I knew it!'

Eddie only rolls his eyes; of-fucking-course this was going to happen.

'So I take it you wanna tell me you learned to never doubt your old uncle again, huh?’

Eddie snorts. 'Need I remind you that I only met up with him to stop your ridiculous matchmaking?'

'And now that you know how wrong you were ‘bout that one, you wanna apologize to me for bein’ as stubborn as a goddamn mule and beg me to not stop my matchmaking after all?'

'No, I very much still want you to stop that,' Eddie retorts. 'I'm actually planning to keep this one around long enough for you to never have to play matchmaker again. But you know what, Steve has this lesbian friend, I'm sure she'd love to be set up with a cute girl who “looks like a lesbian” to you.'

Wayne doesn't seem to register the sarcasm in Eddie's voice or the teasing twinkle in his eyes; he frowns, looking like he's deep in thought, before his face lights up all of a sudden.

'I met this nice young lady who works for the Gazette, she did some article 'bout the working circumstances at the plant a couple weeks back. Was real polite, actually listened to what we had to say for a change... I'm sure she'd get along just fine with Steve's friend.'

Eddie starts cackling. 'Don't let it get to your head now, old man.' He pauses. 'Or actually, maybe you should. You could become, like, the psychic of the gays. Earn lots of money with it.' Eddie wiggles his eyebrows as he says it.

Wayne merely shakes his head at him, but an almost invisible smile is tugging at his lips. Suddenly, he brusquely pulls Eddie in for a sideways hug.

'I'm happy for ya, Ed. You better keep your Steve around for a while, alright?'

-------

As soon as Steve arrives at the trailer, Eddie launches himself into in his arms and immediately gets himself a taste of the most delicious kind of strawberry known to mankind, because he might as well profit as much as he possibly can from the fact that he can actually do that now.

Steve gapes at him, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyebrows raised in bewilderment. 'Dude. Did you just lick my mouth?'

Eddie shrugs. 'Tastes like a lollipop.'

It isn't until he takes a step back that he properly notices the parts of Steve that aren't his pink lips: he's wearing a dinner jacket and holding a bunch of flowers – which by the looks of it got mildly maimed by Eddie's enthusiastic greeting.

'What the fuck, Stevie.' It slips out before Eddie can help it.

'What?' Steve gives him another confused look.

'I mean, don't get me wrong, you're looking insanely hot right now, but... Why are you dressed like we're about to go to the opera?'

'Meeting the parents for the first time, gotta make a good impression!'

'You already met Wayne,' Eddie blankly points out.

'I didn't meet him as your boyfriend, though.' Your boyfriend. It feels fucking unreal to hear Steve say that. And judging by the way it makes Eddie's stomach all floaty and his mouth unable to stop smiling, it's gonna be very bad for that scary metal image he's been working so hard on crafting for himself.

'He's already, like, your number one fan,' Eddie says. 'You need to fuck up real bad to not make a good impression here.'

An adorably relieved look crosses Steve's face at those words.

Eddie squints at Steve's clothes, from the baby-blue button-down to the neatly polished fancy shoes that already got completely ruined by the muddy trailer park ground.

'Dude, you know where we are, right?' he says. 'Just – take a look around you. Do you think we are the kind of people that care about formal clothing and fucking flowers? We were barely able to fit a third chair around the dinner table, we're literally gonna be eating canned macaroni.'

Steve furrows his brows. 'Are you trying to scare me off?'

'No, I'm just giving you the facts. Because you look like you were expecting cloth napkins and, I dunno, maybe the Queen of England.'

'Not really. Just wanted to do it properly.' He shrugs lightly and suddenly seems smaller, like Eddie is not the only one who sometimes gets overwhelmed by figuring out this whole relationship thing they have going on. 'It's important to me. And honestly, your uncle deserves even more respect than the Queen of England, for getting you into my life, you know.'

And Jesus, if that isn't enough to make Eddie melt into a puddle right on the spot... He hopes Steve doesn't notice how rapidly he's suddenly blinking.

'So, you gonna take these or not?'

Steve holds out the flowers, almost hesitant, like he's half expecting Eddie to refuse them. As if he could ever refuse anything Steve would gift him.

'Why thank you, my darling,' Eddie says with a bow. 'You're actually the first guy who ever brought me flowers.' He lets his fingers linger around Steve's as he takes the bouquet from him.

A soft smile crosses Steve’s face. 'And you're the first guy I ever brought flowers to.' He still doesn’t pull his hands away, but instead leans in closer to give Eddie a peck on his lips. And maybe, just maybe, there's something about the whole thing – the jacket, the flowers, the sweetness – that Eddie could actually get used to.

'You wanna get inside and say hi to my uncle?'

'I'd love to. Can't wait to thank him properly for being the greatest matchmaker on earth.'

'Please don't tell him that,' Eddie says with a chuckle. 'He really doesn't need any more encouragement. I'm pretty sure he's already scheming to set up a queer dating agency or some shit.'

‘You should know by now I can hear everything you're sayin' from here!’ Wayne’s voice yells from inside the trailer.

Steve grins as Eddie grabs his hand tighter to lead him inside.

‘It wouldn't hurt you to show him some more support in following his dreams, you know,’ he mumbles to Eddie under his breath.

‘Jesus H. Christ, I can’t believe you’re already teaming up with him to bully me before you even met him!’

He should probably be mad about it, but Steve squeezes his hand and gives him such a precious smile that the only thing he can do is smile back at him.

Holy shit creating this silly little AU has honestly been such a wild ride thanks to all your reactions to it, i can’t say enough how happy all those notifications have made me and I still can’t believe there were SO MANY OF YOU who asked to follow along!!<3333

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdtt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @rainydays35 @cassaloopa @skeliiix @thesuninyaface @silversnaffles @jestyzesty @4nemo1egend @ace-of-foxes @harringtonsgother @thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @thereindeerlady @jillfriend @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gamerdano @spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @00biscuit @mixsethaddams @steve-the-hairrington @episcogoth @caligularib @gaydrieeen @winterbuckwild @bookbinderbitch @daysarestranger @nonbinary-eddie-munson @fangirltofangod @solalasoforth @obsessivlyme @slit-wrist @fxndom-hoe @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @joruni @roastingdragon @lenore1232 @princessstevemunson @cuips-not-cute @munsonsuccubus @justalittlefungi @cherrycolas-things @nitrilexam @thepainisspicy @hopefulslothcollecter @whatisreggieshortfor @doctorqueensanatomy @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sadcanadianwinter @iamsotiredman @orangeandthefairroadkill @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @b-icetea @freddykicksasses @faery-god @poleaxed-aloe @mamaclownhunter @paperbackribs @blvckwidow @mightbeasleep @butuglypeoplefucktoo @lolawon @angryavocadofrog @iwouldsail @livelaughlexa @magpiemuseum @shushuac @ravnlinn @homohomohoe @kissaphobic-kas @cmackz93 @your-greatest-queen @alltheweirdkidsinoneplace @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @ceaselessly-watching @anaibis @enchantedlandcoffee @fluffy-alpaca-of-darkness @nelotegreitic @mollymawkwrites @evix-syne666 @redfreckledwolf @ajamlessbaby @connected-dots @nothisisntmyname @steddieassheg0es @anxiouseds @summer1066 @loopholesinmydreams @mareydi @lillemilly @this-is-moony-lovegood @qomrades @mad-h-w @gay-stranger-things @blanketlicker @fandomcartographer @adankrivervalleynearyou @undreamingscatworld @theysherobinbuckley @i-wanna-combust @stranger-poets-society @fanshipgirl88 @nonhetbts @literallyjustarat @knitsforthetrail @limpingpenguin @spoopy-rayvynnnox @impeachy @ashwinmeird @7boxesofcheerios @nonsense-of-dimitri @azreadytodie @fuctacles @fuzzyduxk @pluto-pepsi @bornonthesavage @what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-life @alanna342 @jinxjinn @ali-just-ali @piningapple @captain-daryn @namelessssho @doltclassic @elsarenard @ramyayaya @my-heart-is-stopped @lightwoodbanethings @goblin-eddie @indie-npc @alienace @satan-is-obsessed @booksandscience @shrimply-a-menace @hammity-hammer @mits-ki @sharingisntkaren @dbquills @electrick-marionnett @thecherryslush @nuttychaosface @grtwdsmwhr @ceph-the-mothman @gay-little-bitch @brassreign @ninjapirateunicorns @quickenedheartbeat @infrogulous @breealtair @hellomynameismoo @ecarliethic @sultrypickle @lovelyscot @ladydorian05

#100% back on my bullshit for this last one #(the bullshit being a fuckton of fluff)#also i needed eddie being a lil weirdo and steve reacting to that with the exact face he made upon seeing the jazzercise instructor dude #for my own sanity #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #fruity ficlet

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lacroixqueen · 2 years

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made your mark on me, a golden tattoo tattoo artist sevika x reader AU (18+)

Summary: you are getting your very first tattoo and sevika just so happens to be your tattoo artist. flirting and sexual tension ensue.

Pairing: tattoo artist sevika x reader AU

Word Count: 3357 (she's LONG)

Tags: soft sevika, unresolved tension, useless lesbians, gay panic, tattoo artist, tattoos, tattoo parlor

You shifted around the seat in the waiting room of the tattoo parlor for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of a single minute. For some reason you were a lot less nervous on the way here than you were literally waiting for your tattoo artist to set up the room and look over your art samples. You told yourself that this was something you were going to get done if it was the last thing you did.

I mean, for God’s sake, it was a brand new year, and you wanted your first tattoo to be something special, to carry meaning that only you will understand. Kind of like a little inside joke.

Apparently the tattoo artist you selected.. Sevika was it? Was quite well known throughout Zaun for several amazing masterpieces. She was attentive to detail, cared about each and every single one of her customer’s needs, and really wanted to make the best product possible for her clientele.

You crossed one leg over the other, folding your arms across your chest and heaved out a little sigh. She better damn well be. The waiting list for her business was about three months long. You made sure to do plenty of research before committing to something as permanent as a tattoo. I mean, it will stay on your body for the rest of your life. Perhaps even into your death.

You shuddered at the thought. Whatever. No matter what, it was far too late to turn back now. You already submitted your deposit, gave the artist the design you had in mind and for crying out loud, you were already here at the goddamn place. So might as well get this over with and try to have as few regrets as possible.

“Y/N?” a low and raspy voice called out from the back of the tattoo parlor. “I’m ready for you. You can come on back now.”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. She was ready for you. Okay. What does that even mean? You stood up, dusting off your skirt and took a final big deep breath.

Just stay calm, you reassured yourself. Everything will be alright in the end. And if it isn’t, heck, maybe there is a surgeon in town who can remove it altogether and you can forget this even happened. Maybe that’s a bit of an overexaggeration.

You were greeted by what you could only describe as one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Sevika was tall. And just by the looks of her right shoulder and arm muscles bulging from underneath her black tank… you could tell she worked out. Like a lot. She was also smoking a thick cigar between her lips, so her already godlike silhouette was wrapped around in a dreamlike haze.

You muttered a little curse under your breath. As if matters couldn’t get possibly worse, your tattoo artist was hot. As in, very very very hot. This was going to be a long afternoon.

“You can take a seat right here,” she said with confidence, slapping the tattoo bed with a resounding echo.

“Oh, uh, yes okay,” you stammered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before hoisting yourself up in a less than dignified fashion.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?”

Oh no. From the corner of your eye, you could see she was smirking quite noticeably. Her eyes flicked over you just slightly. Shit. Was she checking you out? You didn’t even do your makeup properly today because you had no idea what she even looked like. If you had known earlier that she was this drop dead gorgeous piece perhaps you would have put in a bit more effort. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

“J-just a little bit!” you squeaked out. “It’s my first tattoo, so I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, Y/N,” Sevika chuckled as she slid closer to you on her artist chair with your designs in either hand. “If I ever hurt you, you can always tell me to stop and I’ll go slower, okay?”

“Thank you!” Oh god. She smelled so good too.

“Of course. Sooo.. I got to take a look at your ideas last night and I honestly think they are great.” You watched as the thumb of her mechanical hand peeled back a page to glance at the alternate design.

“Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely. Although I think for this bottom part right here, we might need to make a small color adjustment since there might be some shading issues. And for the top corner here where it gets a little bit more complicated? I think I might do a little bit more dotwork to really flesh out the details. But uh, other than that, the stencil is essentially done.”

“Wow! Then, yes, perfect, let's just keep going then,” you gulped. Your eyes casually glazed over the extensive tattooing Sevika had all over her arm and neck.

“Excellent. So, I’ll just have you lay back and.. you wanted it on your side, right? Just lift up your top for me so I can have easy access to that part.”

“Oh um, sure!” You did as you were told, carefully unbuttoning your sweater and shrugging it off your shoulders. You then laid back, and lifted up your cami to reveal the right aspect of your body.

“Lovely,” she replied. “And.. may I?” Her mechanical fingertips lightly grazed over the top of your skirt.

You nodded vigorously. “Of course!”

With the most gentle touch you have ever felt, Sevika gingerly tugged your skirt down a little bit more so it rested comfortably on the roundest part of your right hip. She did the same with the pink lacy fabric of the thong you had on underneath. You tried to take a small breath as quietly as possible.

“Cute panties,” she commented almost a bit too nonchalantly before turning her back to you to slip on some latex gloves and ensure her work tray was all in order.

As if you weren’t already flustered beyond belief, now you might as well have been an uncontrollable mess. “Th-thanks! It’s from um, the store.”

She laughed ever so slightly. “Yeah, I figured as much. Sooo.. for the design. Were you thinking of having it more..” She trailed her gloved fingertip from your pantyline to the top of your chest. “Or more like here?” She ran her other hand over the curve of your waist all the way down to your hip.

“Uhm.. maybe kind of like.. both? If that makes sense? Like it can sort of spread from..” You gently took her wrist and guided her finger from your belly button all the way to the divot in your waist. “Like that?”

“Hmm.. yes. That should be perfectly fine.” She smirked a bit when you immediately released her arm from your grasp as if you were overstepping a boundary.

Without another word, she quickly sprayed some isopropyl alcohol into a wipe and proceeded to sanitize the area. “This might be a bit cold, I’m sorry babe.”

Babe? Did she just call you babe? Does she call all her clients babe? Or is it a little pet name that she only has reserved for you?

“I-it’s totally fine!” you yelped. But she was right. It was quite cold. She could tell you were lying through your teeth when your tummy suddenly clenched up.

“You can’t tense up just yet, doll. I haven’t even gotten the needles out,” she chuckled, lightly slapping your hip. “I need you to loosen up a bit, I don’t want you to be too tight.”

“R-right!” you replied. “Definitely don’t want that.” After a brief pause, you struggled to figure out if there was any sort of double meaning in her words. Or maybe you were just overthinking again.

She let out another hearty laugh and proceeded to massage in some warm lotions into the side of your body. “Just try to relax, hun.” You did as you were told, closing your eyes and making a futile attempt to count numbers. But she wasn’t making your life any easier with all these pet names. And why did her fingers have to feel so goddamn good simply by rubbing cream into your skin. It felt like it was working some type of dark magic, undulating in soft, round circles and moving rhythmically over your waist.

You could have melted into her hands right then and there.

“Okay, and now the stencil. This will feel a little bit wet, alright?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip so you wouldn’t accidentally yelp out. For some odd reason, even though you two just met, you felt very safe with Sevika. Like you could entrust your entire body and soul to her and she wouldn’t hurt any of it even if she was fully capable of doing so.

She smoothed out the stencil exactly over the part of your stomach and waist that you pointed to. She gently kneaded it into your skin, taking extra caution not to be too rough with you.

With one smooth motion, she removed the stencil and quickly leaned over you to ensure no detail of her handiwork got disrupted. That no stone was left unturned.

“Looks… just about.. perfect,” she muttered quietly. You could tell her tone has shifted slightly from the flirtatious one she took on earlier. Suddenly she was laser focused, ensuring that nothing, absolutely nothing would disturb the intricacy of her artwork.

“Great!” you chirped awkwardly, craning your neck over to see the stencil art. Good god. It looked absolutely breathtaking. Her line work was truly something out of this world. And she really did pay attention to every single request you made in your design. “Wow.”

She looked up, locking your gaze with the utmost intensity. “Yeah.” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was quite pleased with herself.

She turned around to power on her tattoo machine.

“This part is going to hurt just a little bit, okay?” she spun around in her artist chair to check on you.

You nodded your head and exhaled ever so slightly. “Okay.” A giant lump was starting to form in your throat and you could feel yourself getting a bit worked up.

Sevika immediately held onto your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “If it ever starts hurting, just let me know and I will stop right away.”

“O-okay.”

“We’ll start with the first line. Take a deep breath and count to three for me, alright princess?” Sevika said as she positioned the tattoo gun at an angle to your skin.

Oh my god. Princess?! She definitely does not call all her clients that. Alright. Big deep breath. One.. two.. three-

The searing hot needle pierced into your skin like a knife.

“Ah~!” you let out a small cry and Sevika immediately stopped midline.

“Too fast?”

“A little bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll go a lot slower this time.”

You nodded and took in another breath. You felt Sevika’s gloved hand slide over the curve of your waist as she positioned herself to gain a little bit more control over her line. By god did her cologne smell amazing. When she leaned over your body, a few short pieces of her bangs would fall out and just barely graze over your exposed tummy. It was definitely getting a bit difficult for you to concentrate on your breathing and counting.

Sevika proceeded to carve out the central line of your tattoo design. She worked slowly and methodically, usually in complete silence. But for some reason when she was around you, she felt the urge to keep pushing the envelope and testing your limits.

“Good girl,” she would coo gently when she noticed your stomach beginning to relax.

“That’s my good girl..” she would say again when she finished a piece of detailing while you stayed quiet and still.

You would moan softly every now and then when you felt the needle dig into your skin and Sevika would respond by going just a touch slower and smirking to herself. Secretly, she loved hearing how adorable and helpless her clients sounded when she sank the tattoo needle deep into their skin. Her sadistic nature was one of the primary reasons she decided to go into tattooing as a prime business.

To have someone completely in her control, at her disposal. To leave a permanent mark on their bodies that would forever remind them of their experience with her. To watch them writhe in pain, or sometimes even pleasure. It was like a drug she simply could not get enough of.

And you. Something about the way you squirmed was extra fucking enticing and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In fact, she could feel you wriggling ever so slightly even now. “Stay still for me, angel.”

And you would immediately stop. Her voice was soft, but also definitively commanding. She needed to focus. To have you moaning and writhing was too much even for her. Her mind would begin to wander to dangerous places.

Like how it would feel to start ramming into your cunt right then and there and watching how your sensitive body would react to her thrusts. How irresistible and beckoning your moans would sound as they ricocheted off the walls, encouraging her to pound into you so rough and so hard you just couldn’t take it anymore. How cute you would look clutching onto your sweater for comfort, or holding onto the sides of the tattoo bed for dear life.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t fantasizing about a million hypothetical scenarios in your head.

Having Sevika press her bicep over the top of your stomach to hold you still just did something to your psyche that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Your eyes danced over the detailing of her own tattoo. It looked to be very intricate and well-thought out… wait a second. Was that supposed to be Zaun?!

“Um, I-I like your tattoo!” you chirped meekly. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Thanks baby,” she smirked to herself. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Do.. you call all your clients that?” you asked out of the curiosity that was beginning to kill you slowly.

Sevika suddenly paused in the middle of her tattooing to glance over at you.

“Only my favorite ones,” she said with a wink before returning to her work.

Oh my god. Why does she keep doing that? It’s starting to become unfair. Like she was getting off the high of torturing you and watching your pathetic reactions. And what did she mean by “favorite ones”? So she flirts with all her clients she finds attractive? What does that even mean?!

Every now and then, Sevika would sneak a glimpse over towards you. She loved the way your chain necklace rested so comfortably over the top of your collarbone. Or how plump and kissable your lips looked in the dim lighting of the parlor. Or how your legs were beginning to spread instinctively the closer her tattoo work moved to the top of your skirt.

Sevika had to fight every last urge in her body to not reach down into your panties and start pleasuring you the way you deserved right then and there on top of that tattoo bed. But she knew she had a job to finish, regardless of how damn adorable you looked and sounded as she drew on the finishing touches of your tattoo.

“Okay.. almost done,” she said. “You are doing so good, sweetheart.”

You winced a little bit when you felt the needle dig just a bit deeper than usual at the last pattern. Was she trying to tease you back there? Or was that absolutely necessary to finish off the line? Whatever. You tried not to overthink it, even though you have been doing so this entire time.

“Alright..” Sevika hummed. “Why don’t you step off the bed and take a look in the mirror over there?”

You did as you were told, hopping off and hobbling over to the full-length mirror across the room. You tilted your head to the side, gently lifting up your cami again to look over the tattoo. Wow. She really did a stunning job. You were a bit surprised, given the fact that she was flirting with you half the time. But holy.. every single piece of line art and dot work flowed so evenly with each other. The design came out exactly the way you had imagined it.

Sevika gave out a low whistle of approval from behind you.

You jumped a little bit out of surprise. Sevika had snuck up on you without you even noticing. And god. Just by looking in the mirror she was already towering over you.

“It’s… beautiful,” you said softly. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sevika replied. “Now, can you take your cami off for me, Y/N?”

“M-my cami?”

Sevika chuckled and raised up the medical grade bandage she had in her hand. “For this.”

“Oh. Right. Yes. Absolutely.”

You gently tugged off your shirt and tossed it onto a nearby countertop to reveal a pink lacy bra. Sevika tried not to comment on it but she did in fact take note of how good you looked in it. And how badly she wanted to take it off you right then and there.

Sevika stepped forward so she placed her thigh between your legs and carefully laid the clear bandage over the top of your tattoo. She gently rubbed it in with her thumb and index finger, making sure to smooth out any uneven edges or creases. She smiled a bit to herself when she felt how hard and fast your heartbeat was pounding against your stomach, or how much warmer your skin felt compared to before.

“Perfect,” she said, quickly removing her gloves and handing you back your shirt. “So, for this bandage, think of it as like a second layer of skin that offers extra protection. Leave it on for the next few days. Then I would rinse it off with some warm water. Oh and, definitely moisturize.” Her tone shifted from flirtatious to professional and matter-of-fact in what felt like a split second. How did she keep doing that?!

“Y-yes ma’am!” you sputtered out, returning to the tattoo bed to shrug on your sweater and gather your belongings.

“And the payment is already taken care of since I saw you submitted your deposit in advance, so I believe you are all set,” Sevika said.

“Great! Um.. thank you Sevika. I was super nervous going into this but you definitely made me feel a whole lot better afterwards.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied, giving you another flirty grin. “Oh, and uh-” The tattoo artist went behind the front counter to dig around a bit until she fished out a slightly bent business card and handed it over to you. “Call me.”

“C-call you?! As in like- Oh my god. I’m.. not sure if I would feel.. I mean, isn’t this kind of fast?”

“I meant to update me on your tattoo healing,” Sevika chuckled. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, princess.”

“Right, right, no yes that makes total and complete sense,” you responded, folding the business card nervously into your palm. “Um.. well I guess I’ll.. call you.”

“Yeah.” She had already followed you to the doorframe and you were standing in the streets of the undercity at this point. “I’ll see you around, alright Y/N?”

“Okay! Yes. Um. Bye! Thank you!” You quickly scurried off into the busy crowds of Zaun, disappearing into the darkness once more.

You were quite certain that if you didn’t act, that you would barely see Sevika again, save an occasional run-in at the liquor store or maybe a random night at The Last Drop. So you didn’t want to take any chances.

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fernsnailz · 7 months

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February 2024 Review Roundup

well i sure did watch some stuff and read one book this month

the things i finished this month reminded me that for every incredible piece of art i find myself enjoying, i end up watching some Hot Garbage immediately after to balance things out again. idk why i do this.

i have quite a bit to say about both the things i enjoyed and the things that brought me physical pain this month, so there is um. a lot under the cut. any previous desire for brevity i had in january has been completely thrown out the window as i use these roundups as an outlet to gush about things i like and complain about things i didn't. fair warning, if you open the readmore you will be scrolling for a while. enjoy i guess

House of Leaves

does any other book out there have the balls to write a completely fake interview with stephen king

House of Leaves is a novel you gotta throw around a little bit. It feels really weird that my copy is still in the pristine state I bought it in - It seems like it should have water damage and smell like mildew with its pages falling out and spine cracked into pieces. Getting the full story from this book requires flipping back and forth, turning it around, searching for answers. All things considered it’s not that difficult of a read, but its format still allows you to feel like you’re discovering every hidden piece for yourself, and I really liked that interactivity. I was engaged pretty much the whole way through.

I don’t really think I’ll be able to revisit this book anytime soon though. It’s difficult for me to format what else I’d like to say about it because to be honest, it caught me off guard and disturbed me on a fairly personal level. There’s a relief I feel when I remember that I don’t actually know what was going on with the house - maybe that was intentional on the book’s behalf, maybe I just didn’t look hard enough for answers. I don’t know. But the implication that something divine was down there was enough of an answer for me. The book's good. read it if you want a spooooooky time or if you never want to look at a hallway the same way again

Doctor Who (Series 1-4) (rewatch)

ok so this is a fuckload of doctor who to cover so i’m gonna give some thoughts on a few of the characters and my favorite + least favorite episodes

9th doctor: My favorite butch lesbian. Christopher Eccleston truly embodies the concept of The Doctor so, so well: otherworldly guy who knows too much, genuinely cares about life across the universe, and also has a bit of deep, unresolved rage. His moments of joy and careless fun stick with me the most, he absolutely radiates with life and brings so much to this character.

Rose: I first watched Doctor Who when I was in middle school, and I didn’t like Rose that much back then. And guys. I have bad news. I'm still not really much of a Rose fan

I definitely understood her more this watch through - that desire for adventure and some sort of control over her life, emotions so strong that she’s willing to throw near everything away. That’s just what being 19 is like sometimes. I think Rose is a very compelling character who just happens to frustrate me a bit. And that’s kinda the point, her co-dependent relationship with the Doctor is doomed to fail and it's meant to hurt. Ultimately, I think when I first watched the show I was too young to understand Rose, and now I’m just too old to relate to her.

Captain Jack: Jack is my favorite character. I fucking love this guy. Dude has the worst luck in the whole universe and still cannot be stopped. Legendary. Every episode with him is a goddamn delight because he has so much chemistry with every single cast member. No notes 10/10 i love my problematic bisexual king

10th doctor: About four episodes into David Tennant’s run I realized that he dresses like a Hazbin Hotel character and it made me very sad. Still, there’s a reason this guy inspired every middle schooler to buy a pair of converse in 2008. He has style, he has depth, he’s got the sauce. It’s genuinely terrifying to see his anger, I like that a lot of 10’s run is about his denial of godhood and power over life in the universe, something that the rest of the time lords desired. idk i like my sad pathetic little weasel but he's also a huge fucking asshole sometimes which sucks. especially when it's directed at Martha.

Martha: Martha I am so sorry for what this show put you through. Martha was my favorite companion when I first watched the show, and I still have a huge soft spot for her. Her ability to hold her own and navigate foreign worlds using her own intelligence absolutely rules, and her drive forward is unbreakable. But the show seems to put her down at every possible opportunity, most notably with how 10 treats her. Her struggles and wants are constantly ignored, and she's often treated as a rebound from Rose. And I like that she eventually chooses to end it by not traveling with 10 anymore, but it hurts because it feels like she was never given the same chance or care that Rose and Donna were. This era of Doctor Who really doesn’t treat its black companions well because Mickey goes through something similar - both Martha and Mickey are characters designed to be ignored or left behind, and it sucks.

Donna: Donna Noble is one of the greatest fictional characters to ever exist. Despite seemingly living a fairly average life and working a fairly average job, Donna reflects the idea that no one is truly "average" and every single person is brimming with personality, life, and love. I love that her relationship with 10 is purely platonic, personally their friendship feels like it has a lot more depth than either of the romance-oriented relationships 10 had with Rose and Martha. 10 and Donna bounce off of each other so well and it's delightful, Donna brings so much humor and life to every world she's taken to and it's incredible. I wish her and Captain Jack could have interacted more.

My favorite episode: The Runaway Bride is hard to not choose as my favorite. I have a blast every time I watch this episode and it’s such a good introduction for Donna. Also the Tardis car chase kills me, I love when it cuts to the kids in the back of another car clapping and cheering. I was also surprised by the episode Midnight - it’s dreadful to watch and I kinda loved it. So much spirals out of control when shit hits the fan, even though no one has any idea what they’re trying to fight against. Really interesting exploration as to how fear can drive people apart.

My least favorite episode: It’s Love & Monsters. I wish I liked this episode - stories that follow regular ass people living in this world are often some of the best episodes in the series (Weeping Angels and all that). And this episode definitely has some of that. It’s honestly really touching to see this group of nerds get together and enjoy life in the first part of the episode. I think the antagonist of “guy who absorbs people” ends up dragging down any charm this story had because he just. eats all of the interesting characters. But despite me disliking this episode, I honestly have a deep respect for it - it’s fucking crazy. It ends with the main guy telling us about his sex life with his girlfriend who is now stuck in a piece of concrete. Where else are you going to get a story like this. It fucking sucks and that’s hilarious

oh also the production design: GODDDDDD I FUCKING LOVE THE PRODUCTION DESIGN AND SETS ON THIS SHOW. I love how dirty and rundown a lot of the spaceship sets look with wires and lights scattered everywhere. And a number of alien designs also go CRAZY with the prosthetics - I keep thinking about the Hath from The Doctor’s Daughter and how every head prosthetic had liquid inside it that could bubble. Absolutely crazy. I also love the moments where you can clearly see they did not have that much time and just had to throw something together or pain a bald cap green. Jank is the nature of sci-fi production design and I dearly love and miss that Doctor Who jank.

Rebuild of Evangelion

Last year after finishing the original Evangelion series + End of Evangelion, I remember going through the Evangelion tumblr tag and being very confused by the number of slice of life/found family-esque fanworks of the cast. It left me puzzled and thinking “...did we even watch the same thing??”

APPARENTLY NOT

[spoiler warning here because these movies are very good and i give the best parts away. if you want to watch these movies then DO IT NOW!!!!!!!!]

I honestly never expected a world where these characters got a happy ending. I so, so badly wish I could see 3.0 and 3.0+1.0 in theaters - these movies are stunning. I know I say things “go crazy” a lot, but man. They go fucking CRAZY.

While I have a few issues with how the first two movies adapted the original show, I do think the changes they made better serve the story this rebuild is trying to tell. For example, my favorite episode in the original Eva series is episode 18, where Toji is chosen to pilot Unit 03. It’s absolutely terrifying because Shinji doesn’t know who 03’s pilot is, yet he’s forced to be inside Unit 01 as it tears 03 apart. His resolve not to kill anyone despite not even knowing who’s in danger is an aspect of that episode I love and speaks to Shinji's inherent humanity, and when he learns Toji was in there it hurts even more. The rebuild movies change Unit 03’s pilot to Auska, and Shinji knows she’s in there from the start. I think this choice works for the movies and is still an effective emotional beat, but personally I still prefer the version where Shinji had no idea who was in there. That lack of knowledge is infinitely more terrifying to me.

I really like what these movies did with some of the angel designs though. The sixth angel (the fuckin. blue diamond cube thing) works really well in 3D/CG animation. The way the thing warps and moves is otherly and terrifying - and it’s just a fucking cube. I’ve always really loved how the Eva series approaches angel designs and the divine - despite the alien-like designs, there’s often something extremely familiar about them. They’re often reminiscent of an animal, a machine, or a human. This is also how they approached the anti-universe in these movies, I loved how it takes the form of various locations from the series and turns them into a movie set. It’s deeply familiar, but ultimately just an illusion of familiarity like the angels and the divine.

Also I gotta say. I fucking love Mari. I think she’s hilarious. She first meets Shinji by accidentally parachuting into him and then immediately starts crawling on all fours to sniff him. This girl also introduces “Beast Mode” where the Eva pilots can go wild turn their mechs into a fucking. superpowered beast of some sort. And also she defeats a whole army by using the Eiffel Tower as a spear. She’s such an absurd character and I honestly kinda love it. The only thing I knew about these movies before watching them was this gif of her Backing That Shit Up and she truly lives up to the insane nature of this shot.

My favorite section of these movies is definitely the first part of 3.0+1.0 where the pilots are basically just living a domestic life in a small town - it’s truly beautiful. The growth that Rei’s copy goes through here is fantastic, I love stories about seemingly emotionless beings learning how to live. And right after she dies, we get the shot that absolutely broke me the first time I saw it:

This shit. The way you can just barely tell he’s been crying from the red around his eyes. They don't talk about it, they barely linger on it, but it's allowed just enough time to punch you in the gut. I don’t know why this shot got me as hard as it did but goddamn. jesus christ. i want to throw up

There’s some goofy shit in these movies. The infinite synch rate. Misato’s stupidass hat and sunglasses. Some goofy ass 3D animation that doesn’t age super well. The rainbow that shows up every time an angel dies. But these things really didn’t take me out of the core of these films, and there’s so much genuine emotion and beauty in this series that had me absolutely hooked - especially in the last two films. They go crazy. My favorite line is 100% “The only thing a son can do for his father is pat him on the shoulder… or kill him.” and man. ain’t that what Evangelion is all about. i love these movies

High School Musical 3

kinda slaps just a little bit

High School Musical 3 starts with a finale number. The last high school basketball game of Troy Bolton’s life - and it goes kinda hard. The classic pep band brass that’s essential to so many High School Musical numbers returns, and the constant theme of two feuding cheer teams in the background? Genius. This is truly art. I love listening to Now or Never without visuals because in the middle Troy just starts coughing and gagging seemingly out of nowhere

Unfortunately, starting the movie at such a high point means that the rest of the runtime doesn’t quite match up to it. The story lags and meanders quite a bit, but part of me kinda appreciates that - it’s their last semester of high school, which is always a time of confusion and turmoil. However, I do have a pitch for how they could have countered the constant falling action this movie seems to go through:

The Wildcats should have lost their last game at the beginning of the movie.

What if the game is instead the inciting incident that leads Troy and his besties through their tumultuous last semester? Troy is still torn between basketball and theater, but his identity would be even further challenged here - is winning and success all that matters for him, or is it the love of sport and performance that keeps him going? idk whatever this movie came out 16 years ago i can’t be out here writing AUs for it jgnfsgfnjdksg

Some miscellaneous thoughts about this movie that i don’t care about formatting into larger paragraphs:

Ryan and Sharpay’s number (I Want It All) slaps as usual. The part where Ryan shouts “MADISON SQUARE GARDEN!!!!!!!” makes me so happy every time i hear it

The production design and sets go absolutely fucking crazy. I still have no idea how they pulled off the spinning hallway in Scream.

One of the classic staples of HSM is Chad’s shirts. Most of them are fairly silly and like something you would expect to find in the walmart clearance section. However, there’s one shirt he has in this movie that confused the hell out of me. It’s this one:

What the FUCK does Greenster mean. Is it just a combination of Green and Monster?? Why??? What green monster are we talking about here????? Where the fuck did this shirt come from?????????

Avatar The Last Airbender (2024)

There’s really only one word I can think of to describe what this show is like: sauceless. No flavor. No depth. No character. No sauce. This show is honestly so fucking boring and seems to fundamentally misunderstand what the appeal of the original Avatar series is - not necessarily because things are changed or removed from the original, but because nothing of substance is added in return.

Most of the characters are mere echoes of their original counterparts when compared to their source material. Sokka is reduced to a guy who wants to fight good, Katara’s stubborn and confrontational nature is very rarely utilized, and Aang’s mischievous antics and love of fun is sorely missing. One of the major reasons for the dull interpretations seems to be the directing - While I have faith that most of these actors are trying their best (especially since a number of them are kids/young adults), the direction seems to be incredibly lackluster and takes away nearly every cast member’s stage presence or personality. There’s a number of reaction shots of the main trio that just look like this: 😐😐😐 as if they were just told to “look concerned” at the events unfolding before them. And these issues are apparent in the majority of the performances - for example, General Zhao talks like he’s in a board meeting up until the last episode, and it’s an incredibly flat performance. He talks somewhat monotone in the original series as well, but this live-action take on the character often meanders with his dialogue and lacks that sharp, terrifying quality that I think this character needs. Uncle Iroh also feels incredibly stiff in this adaptation, and it’s a goddamn crime that they took away the cunty little outfit and chains he was originally wearing when he gets captured by earthbenders. wait who said that

Credit where credit is due, there’s a few cast members that seem to be giving their best. It’s clear that Aang’s actor enjoys the role and does pretty well despite the lackluster direction and dialogue he’s given. On top of that, I think Zuko’s actor is honestly the best part of the show. His take on Zuko leans much more into teenage tendencies and sarcasm, which, although it can be silly, is a welcome take of the character in my opinion and pretty fun to watch. There’s this one line he has at the beginning of episode 2 where, in an incredibly whiny tone of voice, he goes “He RAN! The ultimate warrior! He’s a Coward :((((“ and the read is so. fucking funny

The case of bad direction isn’t limited to the performances, however. It’s also stunningly apparent in how everything is shot. Despite being in a widescreen format, most shots are incredibly centered - you could crop the entire runtime into a 4:3 frame and you wouldn’t be cutting out much of anything. I’ve seen some speculation that this was an intentional choice to make things more adaptable or readable for TikTok/phone video, but honestly I think that’s a dumb take. I think the issue stems from a lack of creativity and thoughtless composition. Keeping everything staged in the center can make shots feel disjointed, lacking much depth, or completely empty. It’s a boring way to shoot and indicates that the show lacks any unique vision at all.

Overall, this show doesn't really seem to understand what makes Avatar interesting in the first place. It's more interested in spectacle and action than the characters' relationships, emotions, and mistakes. I try not to compare it too much to the original since it's allowed to take liberties with its adaptation, but very few of its changes add much to the end result or give it a unique voice. It's just sauceless and boring.

Some YouTube videos i liked in February:

💥 My House.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod (some supplemental House of Leaves material for ya) 💥 Martha Jones Deserved Better (this video explains how Doctor Who did Martha dirty better than i ever could) 💥 bringing JUSTICE to the worst garfield game 💥 Selling Kids for Clout: The Downfall of Family Channels

And that’s my roundup for February! Thank you for reading, I promise there are no more reviews left to scroll through below this goodbye. Nope, nothing else I watched this month. Bye!

…ok is everyone gone. phew, i’m glad no one noticed i pulled an hbomberguy and hid the largest part of this post under a false ending. Anyway holy shit i need to talk about hazbin hotel

Hazbin Hotel

well i didn’t like it

Hazbin Hotel is a weird, fascinating mess of a show. Every episode left me wondering what creative decisions (or lack thereof) led to the sequence of images I just watched. There’s been a lot of discussion of this show recently and I’m not interested in covering every critique I have, but there’s a few things that I'd like to talk about somewhat in-depth.

Hell is real and it's just Red Chicago

The setting of Hell is kinda boring in this show.

Let me try to put this into perspective. Aside from the hotel, here’s a list of the locations we see in Hell:

A boardroom

A video store

Vox’s evil lair (it has cyber sharks which is kinda cool)

Various streets

Another boardroom

A BDSM club

Carmilla’s house (it’s gray and has. balconies?)

A porn studio

A bar

Another bar

A town square (full of cannibals)

None of these locations really take on any sort of otherworldly form besides some vague demonic imagery scattered throughout (and the cannibals. i guess. whatever). In short, Hazbin Hotel’s setting resembles Chicago more than it does Hell.

I can see a world where that’s intentional. Perhaps making Hell resemble a modern city could be used as a thematic tool or point of relatability? But Hazbin doesn’t really do anything like that - since the characters rarely ever interact with their environments, these locations end up seeming like they lack creativity, like they’re just cardboard sets where characters go to swear. They all start to blend together after a while - every street feels the same, every boardroom fades into the background, and every bar feels like a google image search result for the word “club.” This world feels stunningly empty despite the busy designs and colors. Even though the backgrounds are painted and designed fairly well, nothing of substance is ever really added to them through the story.

However, a few musical numbers take effort to break away from these settings. This felt like a weight off of my shoulders whenever it happened, it was nice to see some interesting setpieces and backgrounds that weren’t red. I liked the bombastic and over-the-top broadway lights in Loser and the glowing alternate world in Charlie and Lucifer’s song. But these moments are few and crowded by the dull locations in Hell - or worse, the Hotel itself.

Despite being the namesake of the show, the actual Hazbin Hotel is… lifeless. Which, yeah, it’s a hotel where dead people go in the afterlife, but it’s missing any sort of personality or history besides “it’s old and falling apart.” I expected the hotel to be full of secrets - like maybe some hidden passages or rooms, or mysterious cabinets full of rotted meats, or old valuables hidden under the rugs by the previous owners. Something for the cast to explore and discover, and as they get closer to each other they also start to understand the hotel more. Alastor seems very intent on keeping the physical hotel standing for some reason, but I never really understood why. There’s nothing there. And that nothingness is fully realized when at the end of the show, they just rebuild the entire hotel to be grand and beautiful - an emotional beat that didn’t hit me at all because I never felt like I knew the hotel in the first place. Despite rebuilding it from the ground up, it will feel just as empty.

3 SHOTS THAT DRIVE ME CRAZY

I was truly baffled at how some of these scenes are timed and put together. Multiple sequences left me feeling nauseous and dazed - the camera moves like it’s being swung on the end of a rope, and there’s so many misplaced or meaningless cuts scattered through these episodes.

There’s a sequence of three shots in the first episode that I want to dissect. I will fully admit that I'm breaching nitpicking territory here, but the shot composition issues in this show are pretty rampant and my analysis here is just a hyper-specific look at a single part of that larger problem. Hopefully you can also use it as a quick storyboarding lesson too idk

First, we see Adam teasing Charlie.

Then, it cuts straight to this shot:

A few things here.

Shot 2 is just closer on the characters, which is not a great idea to cut to after the previous waist-up shot. On top of being a jarring jump cut, there is no purpose for this new shot. All the information we see here (Adam laughs, Charlie fake laughs) could have just been conveyed in the previous shot.

Despite the characters being in the same position as the last shot, the background changes. This straight up just feels like an error. I think the idea is supposed to be that the camera is at a different angle, but the position of the characters does not convey that. It looks like reality changes behind them.

And if that’s not enough, this is the shot we get immediately after those two:

In this shot, the residents of the hotel sit on the couch as Vaggie walks into the shot, framing them between her legs. But there’s something… off.

Vaggie either looks like she’s floating or she’s three stories tall. Quick storyboard lesson as to why:

The main problem with this shot is that the perspective of the background doesn’t match up with where Vaggie is placed. The couch is framed as if the camera were above it, but Vaggie is framed like the camera is floor-level below her. I’ve traced the shot and added a perspective grid to hopefully better illustrate this:

Do you see what I mean? If the camera WAS actually on the floor like Vaggie’s position in the shot suggests, the composition would look more like this:

Notice how much closer the floor grid is to the bottom of the frame and how you can see the underside of the couch.

And to be fair, this is probably what the original storyboard for this shot looked like! Personally I think something went wrong in the compositing stage - this might be a couch background from another shot that was reused here to save time, or whoever approved this shot just let the error slide since the shot is so short (i've been there. sometimes you let the jank slide). Most animated shows will have some poorly framed shots and continuity errors because mistakes are bound to happen, but two egregious ones right next to each other like this is. pretty bad. It's so noticeable from a directing perspective.

Here’s the thing: these three shots happen in the span of like 10 seconds. Most viewers probably wouldn’t notice these issues, and that's fine. But even though these errors are quick, they stack upon each other so fast that even if you can’t pinpoint exactly what’s wrong, something still feels wrong. There’s so many other moments where the show breaks extremely basic shot composition, continuity, and staging rules - for example, the second musical number of the show breaks the 180 rule like four times for no good reason. The whole show feels like a dizzy, nauseating mess because the shots rarely feel like they form anything cohesive.

MY ROOMMATE TOLD ME TO GO TO BED SO HERE ARE SOME FINAL THOUGHTS

Here’s a rundown on some other thoughts that I don’t care to format into larger sections:

The show seems to lack much to say about sin and redemption other than “redemption good.” like sure, but what are they being redeemed from? Is heaven truly the place they deserve to go after being redeemed, even though it’s shown to be unjust? Are there sins that are too great to be redeemed from, or others that shouldn't be considered sins at all? I asked myself a number of questions like this, but never got many answers from Hazbin.

This show has a bad relationship with kink and sex. Both are mostly used as a punchline or a form of control. I didn’t like it. Perhaps the reason Hazbin never really comments on the nature of sin is because it needs you to consider sex and kink sinful or otherly for these jokes to hit.

Some of the animation is crazy good. I will praise any animator that even attempts to make these character designs move. A number of extremely talented people worked on this show, a few of the musical sequences in particular have some incredible movement.

Alastor is a very boring character. It’s wild that most of the side characters in this show only exist to talk about how much they like or hate Alastor, he mostly just stands to the side of some shots or kills random nameless goons. I expected him to have a much larger role in the story, but he just gets his ass kicked in the final episode and then crawls back to the hotel.

Episode 4 is the most cohesive, and i think Angel is the best character in the show. Unfortunately, the fact that Hazbin takes so much effort to show Angel’s misery left me… concerned? None of the other characters get treated as poorly as Angel by the narrative. There’s a few smaller explorations of trauma, but nothing remotely compares to what Angel is put through on-screen. This isn’t to say that I think the whole cast needs to be extremely traumatized and constantly miserable, but rather that I find it concerning that the only character subjected to incredibly graphic abuse and torture (that we see or hear about) is the gay sex worker. Which sucks, because I think the concept of hypersexuality resulted from sexual abuse is an important topic worthy of discussing in adult media. I just think they tried to execute this theme without much critical thought beforehand.

I think the voice cast does a fantastic job for the most part. Keith David is way too good for Husk.

I really liked the one shot where Charlie opens her phone and we see that she has a contact for every individual egg minion.

I was very brave and got through this whole review without talking about my new least favorite character of all time, Vox. here’s what I think of him:

The overall vision and end result of Hazbin Hotel is just mediocre. While I don’t know what led to the messy state this show ended up in, my guess is that it was probably the result of inadequate direction, sloppy writing, and lacking creative support from the studios involved. Because of this, please understand that I have no desire or intention to put down any individual artists that worked on this show - I hope it's clear that most of my criticisms are directed at the larger vision these artists were given to execute and/or the lack of creative support they received while working on this show.

I also don’t really have much desire to participate in any further Hazbin discussion or discourse because it has wasted enough of my time already and I want to be free of this curse. please spare my inbox from hazbin hotel discourse. please. i'm begging.

You want to know what the most fucked up thing about this is though? Despite everything I said about Hazbin, Avatar the Last Airbender 2024 is still the worst show I watched this month. I would take Hazbin over Avatar 2024 literally any day.

well if you got this far. thanks for reading. also sorry you read all that. whelp alright back into my hole i go bye bye

#to get to my hazbin hotel opinions you must first read my pitch on how i would have written high school musical 3 #jesus christ. either i gotta watch less things or learn to shut the hell up next month this is a longass post #review roundup #long post

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princess-pathetic-112898 · 10 months

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The homophobes/transphobes raging at the latest retcon of Nightcrawler’s origin story is so funny to me. Like- what are you even doing here? You’re complaining about an X-Men book having identity politics??? The series that has been Marvel’s go-to soapbox since the 1960’s?? The series that’s been so ridiculously queer-coded in everything from its conflicts to its character arcs to its goddamn fashion choices for decades??? I’m sorry, did you take a wrong turn and walk into the wrong fandom?

Never mind that having Mystique & Destiny being Kurt’s bio parents was always Chris Claremont’s original intent. Or that their relationship has pretty much always been canon, or that this isn’t even their first time coparenting (albeit poorly, but we love that drama).

You say it’s too convoluted? Ok, and the Azazel retcon wasn’t? Again, it’s X-Men, where convoluted origins and conspiracies reign supreme. You say it conflicts with Kurt’s identity as a man of faith? As if the whole point of his religion wasn’t always to clash with his demonic appearance in order to make the statement that true faith needs to be rooted in love and compassion and not bigotry or an outward show of righteousness? As if the comics have never had Kurt cross paths with far-right Christian nationalists who refused to see him for who he was?

I mean- who’s gonna tell these guys about this classic? Did they think Logurt was a froyo flavor?

In conclusion, I generally don’t like to gatekeep fandom, but omfg these people are such fake fans. As for me, my only issue with the retcon is the reframing of Raven as having wholly loved Kurt & wanted him but she just… misplaced her baby I guess. Like c’mon, guys, we can let Mystique be a messy lesbian AND a shitty baby-yeeting mom, give us that diversity win.

#fan post #fan rant #x men #x men comics #x men blue: origins #marvel #marvel comics #nightcrawler #kurt wagner #mystique #raven darkholme #mystique xmen #destiny #irene adler #mystique x destiny #lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer representation

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piratefishmama · 1 year

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Crossing The Line | Part 9

“Eddie. Dude. You have to stop pacing, you’re gonna wear a hole in the goddamn floor and we ain’t covered for that.”

Eddie did not stop pacing, he just turned on his heel and went in the other direction, starting a fresh line in the floor. “But what if— nah, he wouldn’t… I doubt it, no he was probably just—but then what if—"

“Man, you’re spiralling, if he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come, if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, what’re you worried about, you don't even like the guy” Eddie didn’t stop pacing. “Unless… Do you?”

“I… may have… actually looked into him?”

“You what?”

“After he turned up at the coffee shop! He was just… he was nice, dude, and… an he had no reason to be, at all, I was a bitch for a whole week towards him for no reason, but he was nice, and funny, and he can sing even if he can’t do shit with metal, he can sing, and… his photoshoots don’t touch up shit he really is that pretty, and I think i'm going to spontaneously combust and die if he turns up tonight dressed to blend in.”

“Wow.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Okay, so, what did you find out on your deep dive through Instagram?” Eddie finally stopped pacing. They were in what the bar deemed to be a ‘green room’ which was really just a room in the back for bands to get their shit together before the gig started, Corroded Coffin always turned up a good hour or so early to make sure everything was set, and of course, get rid of any pre-gig jitters. Gareth was the only one completely ready, his drums were already out there, set up and covered by a black sheet waiting for their time to shine, and his outfit was sorted ages ago.

So Gareth was the one currently in charge of dealing with Eddie, while the other two primped elsewhere.

“Not just Instagram, Jesus, imagine if I’d have scrolled too far back and liked a pic from like, 2001 by accident. How about no to that inevitable mortification. I googled.”

“You googled.”

“Yes I googled!! Did you know that he donated like, ninety-something percent of his earnings from a bullshit rom-com soundtrack deal to LGBT charities across the US after they cut a lesbian couple out of it?”

“No…”

“Neither did I! The fucker didn’t tell anyone!! I HAD TO DEEP DIVE INTO ROBIN’S INSTAGRAM! Trust me that was a scary thing to do, she’s scary. but he pulls that shit all the time apparently!” It wasn’t for publicity, it wasn’t to make himself look good to a demographic, he did it because he could. Because he wanted to. “Did you know he regularly terrorizes producers and directors into offering fair contracts for their child actors and young muscians like a goddamn world class showbiz babysitter?”

“…Nope.”

“Neither did I!! Did you know that he got PERMISSION to sing Crazy Train from the actual goddamn Osbornes? Cause I sure as shit didn’t know that either! He spoke to Sharon, DIRECTLY, Gareth, DIRECTLY. What the actual fucknuggets on fire, does he want with me?!”

“I dunno, to kiss you maybe?”

“WHY?!”

“Can’t claim to have an answer dude, you’re not exactly my type. Maybe you’re his, he did come all this way, right?”

“Pretty sure he could find a weird metalhead in his own damn town, y’know?”

“Maybe it’s not the metalhead thing, I dunno Eds, I just know that maybe this guy will be in the crowd, and if he is, hell yeah, you have managed to secure probably thee best opportunity we’ve ever had in the history of ever, by… being a bitch.”

“We’ve ever had?” Eddie looked at him with a small frown

“Yeah man! Steve Harrington is a huge star in the music world. Dude probably has his own goddamn recording studio in his place… maybe if it goes well… we could ask him if we could use it, save us some cash on a recording studio for demos.”

“…Dude. That’s. That’s kinda taking advantage isn’t it? An I’m not whoring myself out to get free studio time.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, BUT if you start dating this guy—"

“Gare, anything you say that relates to me using my first potential relationship as a step ladder to fame, is SUPER shitty. Let’s not do that. If he offers, then… maybe, but… that’s not—I wouldn’t even think about asking for that, we wanna get where we’re going on our own, not have it handed to us, right?”

“Well… yeah but… a helping hand would be nice sometimes, y’know? Get us out of playing these shitty dive bar gigs and into the big leagues, you know I can’t stand part time work filling the gaps in the wages, man, retail managers always suck donkey dicks. I cannot work another summer at Staples, they have like no AC, it’s torture, it’s like an oven in there and Ralph doesn’t wear deodorant, he claims it’s an allergy, but I know, I know it’s not, he does it as a power thing it’s weird. This… could be our ticket out.”

“Steve isn’t a ticket. Maybe stop digging a grave you can’t climb out of, yeah? I know I wasn’t the best towards him but… he’s better, deserves better than that… I’m not using him. An honestly I dunno if I’d even know how y’know? It’s not like I’m bursting with experience… barely even—y’know what, I’m not talking about this, big nope on the using Steve as a cheat code to achieving fame! Let’s just… get our shit together and get out there!”

Gareth smiled before rising to his feet, drumsticks in hand “you’re the boss, man. Where’s Jeff an Frank?”

“Bathroom touching up their shit… promise me you won’t bring it up to Steve, yeah? Like… if he does come, you won’t—”

“Dude, dude… I was just throwing out dumb ideas to get you out of your head, I’d never, that’d be really uncool of me” Eddie looked at him with doubt because… okay, maybe there was a little truth to the interest in the subject, Gareth had worked part time in the stationary section of Staples for three years now and he was just about ready to die if he had to deal with his supervisors summer BO any longer, but if Eddie put his foot down and said no, then it was no, the idea was vetoed. Axed. Deader than dead

He could deal with Ralph. Probably.

“…Right, well… oka—”

The door opened, a frizzy head of hair poking around the entry way, one of the bartenders, “You’re on in five guys! Wh—Where’s the rest of you??”

“Gareth go get em for me? I’ll get the crowd warmed up.”

“On it.”

T-5 minutes. Gareth rushed out the opposite door to the bathrooms behind 'stage', otherwise known as the staff bathroom. The bar was heaving, music from the speakers to fill the void of sound before the live music act, loud and thumping, it’d be them soon, filling that void, deep breath. Eddie fluffed his hair once more, spritzed it with hairspray one last time, checked his minimalist eyeliner, and shook himself out, and grabbed his baby.

Show time.

Part 11

#PirateWrites #Crossing The Line #Steddie #Ficlet #okay so... Gareth is a lil desperate to get out of retail #lets cut him some slack #even if he is being a little shit there :'D

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estrellami-1 · 2 months

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I would tell you this off anon but I love your writing and esp the way u write Steve n robin :) :D

Ahhhh hello friend!!!!! You’re more than welcome to come off anon if you want but I fully respect your decision to stay on anon :) thank you so much, you’re so kind!!!!! Steve and Robin are very dear to my heart as I am also “always the damn babysitter” and have a lesbian best friend and we are platonic soulmates and have been since before Stranger Things was even a thing. I’m well aware she and I don’t have the *exact* dynamic Steve and Robin do, but I definitely draw from it a lot in my writing!

You are very very kind and I haven’t had time to write in a while, so here’s a little something just for you ❤️

(also side note I’m writing it in this reply on mobile online instead of the app and Tumblr is an entire dumpster fire so occasionally it’ll glitch and I can’t see what I’m writing… so I have to post and then edit… bear with me. 😂)

Robin is Steve’s best friend in the entire world. He genuinely know he wouldn’t be where he is today if it wasn’t for her.

However, Robin is also… Robin.

“Goddamn you,” he gripes, “that’s my sweater.”

“Is not,” she returns. “It was in my closet.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you stole it!”

“Did not! And anyways you still have my sunglasses.”

He gapes at her. “Because you gave them to me!”

she narrows her eyes at him. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I get migraines!” He drags a hand down his face. “I got a bad one at work and you handed me your glasses and took my keys, remember?”

“No,” she sniffs, in the way that means she totally does and doesn’t want to admit it. She deflates. “Do you want the sweater back?”

“Nah,” he smirks, “it looks better on you.”

She scoffs. “It looks gayer on me, maybe.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “that’s what I said.”

She slaps him with a sweater sleeve. “Let’s get ice cream after.”

“Only if you’re buying.”

“Fuck you, you know I’m broke.”

“I know.” He grins. “I’ll pay as long as we go to Mary’s.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it, and go silent, working together with little glances that say more than words ever could.

“Okay,” Robin says, because silence is a thing she hates, tolerates it only because it helps Steve’s migraines. “So about Eddie-”

“Oh, fuck you.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #star rambles #Asks #my asks #friends!!!

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blueshistorysims · 3 months

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December 25th, 1927, Newcrest, England

Although Byron and his family came to Newcrest for Christmas, Giselle still felt the simmering tensions. She knew her mother didn’t want Francesca there, but she wasn’t cruel enough to not extend the invitation. Regardless, she’d insisted on the ladies sleeping in different rooms, Giselle in her childhood bedroom and Francesca in what used to be her grandmother’s.

The door to the library opened, and she turned to see her mother, still in her party dress and jewelry.

“What are you still doing up, Mama?”

Rebecca closed the door behind her. “I could ask you the same.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted. She hated sleeping alone—she hadn’t done it in over seven years.

“Then the cat’s out of the bag then,” Rebecca mumbled, sitting down.

Giselle turned to face her. “That I’m a Lesbian?”

Her mother pursed her lips. “...Yes.”

“I’ve known you’ve known for some time, Mama. I was hurt when I began to notice that you were ignoring me. The reason rather cleared up when Francesca told me what happened several Christmases ago.”

Rebecca was silent for another minute. “...I don’t approve of it. It’s morally wrong. I love you, and it breaks my heart how you willingly sin.” She paused, sniffling. “However, you’re not a child anymore, and I pray that you will see God’s light, get married and have children like your brother did eventually, but… I know you’re happy with Francesca, so I will not do a thing.”

Without another word, Rebecca stood up and left the library. Giselle stood there in shock by her mother’s words, and anger arose in her among the sorrow. She’d used her goddamn brother as an example of the perfect man? She bit her lips bitterly, wanting to laugh. If only Rebecca knew. In that argument, Giselle technically had more morals than her rake of a brother.

She sat down on the white laying sofa that her mother was just sitting on, the sofa had been in the library far longer than Giselle had been born, witnesser of many spats from over the years, as tears slipped from her eyes.

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #BOO REBECCA #homophobic rebecca alert 😔#rebecca walsh #giselle walsh #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 history challenge #1920s #ts4 1920s #ts4 historical #history simblr #ts4 decades challenge #tw homophobia

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years

Text

Tattoos for Days pt.3 ~Peggy Carter xFem Reader

~ I put the tattoo I had in mind for this Fic above… @setsuna1415 —I wanna see an ending where Peggy also gets a small one done as a surprise!!

Link to Part 1 & Part 2

Mommy…Master List

Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, tattoo kink…?, lesbianism, etc…

Ending to mini series

Enjoy (;

A few months later, you and Peggy were at her place for a dinner. The food and ambience was lovely. She was so lovely.

And after dinner, Peg got really exited to show you something…

“I got something for you!” Her eyes enthusiastically twinkling with a hint of mischievousness in them.

“Is that so?” You asked, playing into her words.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Would you like to see?” She suggestively asked.

You stood up and moved into her space, ghosting your lips on hers.

“Yes please…” you smirked into her lips.

Peg closed the gap, happily smashing her lips against yours.

She was also the first to pull away, eliciting a whine from your lips.

Peggy chuckled at that, but got you silent the second she started taking her shirt off…

“Peg…?” you whispered.

She batted her mischievous, glinting eyes back at you.

You gasped when you saw it.

Peggy had gotten a daffodil tattoo on the side of her torso.

Your hand went over your mouth, covering an ear to ear grin plastered on your face.

“Peg… I…”

“Well… Do you like it?” She hesitantly asked.

Your pupils dilated, your eyes darkening with lust, your mouth watering…

“Yea.” was all you could manage to say.

You crashed your lips back into Peggy’s, catching her off guard, mumbling “so… goddamn hot…” in between breathless kisses.

Peggy smirked at your words through the heated, passionate kiss.

“I want you to have me.” Peg breathlessly whispered.

“What…?” You said, dazed from her statement.

Peggy moved her lips to your ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

Those words sent chills down your spine… You bit back a moan at those words…

You made quick work of both your clothes and hurried into her bedroom.

Eagerly, you already had Peggy underneath you, as you bit your lip at the sight of her fucking gorgeous body.

Peggy tried to cover herself to a degree, but you weren’t having it.

You took her hands, pining them above her head, “No… I want to see all of you, beautiful…”

This made Peg go red…

With one hand holding her hands down, the other traveled to her aching pussy.

Peggy was bucking her hips when your fingers reached her precious clit and soaked cunt.

You chuckled at her squirming.

“Are you sure about this?” You whispered for reassurance.

“Yes! God please, just fuck me already!!” Peg mewled out, only spurring you on more.

You slid one finger into her throbbing core, eliciting a glorious string of curses from Peg’s lips…

You added a second finger into your fucking of her pussy, and received even more moans, mewls, and cries from Peggy.

Her hips jerked up furiously to meet the pace of your fingers thrusting into her cunt.

Her cries becoming louder and louder with each frantic thrust.

Her breathing erratic and shallow…

God, the woman looked divine…

The obscenities spewing forth from her lips…

Her eyes rolling back in over whelming pleasure…

“Fuck, Y/N! I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…!!” Peggy cried out.

You hummed in delight, adding a third finger into the mix.

This sent her over the fucking edge.

Her legs shaking uncontrollably…

Her screams of pleasure erupting from her hoarse throat…

It was a fucking delicious sight to see…

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hareofhrair · 5 months

Note

Please tell me if you're a zionist or not. Because the notes on that post of yours are absolutely rancid regarding Palestinian people and I need to know before I submit your url to the zionist block list

No, I am not a zionist. Israel, like any ethnostate, should not exist and what they are doing to the Palestinians is unquestionably genocide. I fully support Palestine and their right to resist in the face of annihilation.

I am also not anti semetic, for the record, and stand with the many Jewish people who support Palestinian liberation.

I also recognize that while Biden or any president is unlikely to ever stop supporting Israel as it’s too critical to colonial and capitalist action in that area, Trump has voiced support for Israel straight up nuking Gaza.

There is unfortunately very little we can meaningfully do with this particular election for the Palestinian people. Continuing to pressure the democrats may mitigate the damage to a degree, but I’m aware how thin a comfort that is to a country currently being massacred.

But we cannot help ANYONE if our democracy is actively overthrown, as Trump has made extremely, unambiguously clear he intends to do. He has every intention of making himself a Putin style dictator, with the full support of Putin himself, who knows he can use Trump as a puppet, in a manner so like the way we’ve overthrown democratic countries and installed puppet dictators in the past that the dramatic irony would be heavy handed were it fictional. We almost deserve it.

But we are a country full of innocent people the same as any other, who don’t deserve to suffer and die to punish the idea of western imperialism, which the vast majority of have zero control over.

The one tiny bit of control we DO have is through voting.

This is not a situation I’m happy with, but this isn’t a situation of trading Palestinian lives for American ones. This is a situation where saving Palestinian lives isn’t even on the table, and refusing to acknowledge that is only going to make the situation worse. We can either save American lives and hope it doesn’t make the situation in Palestine actively worse. Or we can refuse to do anything like petulant children and watch everyone die.

Vote, and then get back to organizing your community, participating in protests and direct action, volunteering and donating to relief and evacuation funds, and voting in local elections so that we can maybe end up with some better options next time!

And if yall ever get the violent revolution off the ground, I’ll be right behind you! But if you tell me you’re not voting because the only moral action is firebombing a Walmart, you’d better firebomb the goddamn Walmart.

And to the assholes in the notes of that post and talking shit in my asks, for the record, I’m a disabled trans lesbian living in goddamn Louisiana, living on less than $1000 a month. Aside from my friends in Florida, no one is getting the ass end of this garbage government more than us. And for the record, yeah, I’m boycotting McDonald’s, and anything else I can. I’d boycott Starbucks too if there was one within 50 miles. I vote in every local election. I organize as much as I can in rural Louisiana. I take direct action whenever I get the chance, which isn’t often given my lack of mobility and remote location, but I’m willing to bet I’ve done more than most of the assholes in the notes.

Let me put it very plainly, TLDR: if you refuse to vote because you think it doesn’t make a difference or you think it’ll make you complicit in this country’s crimes, you are actively putting your personal comfort and moral purity above the lives of the Palestinian people, as well as above every vulnerable person in this country on top of it. If you want to save Palestine, start by not letting our god damn democracy go up in flames.

#us politics

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midnight-fauna · 6 months

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"i just wanna trust what is mine" (huskerdust)

Pairing: Angel Dust/Husk

Chapter: 1/1

Word count: 5,063

Summary: Five times Angel didn't want to be touched by anyone. And the one time he did.

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast".

Trigger warnings: implied physical/sexual abuse, heavy swearing, canon-typical amounts of innuendos, touch-aversion, brief descriptions of panic attacks

Angel staggered into the Hazbin Hotel, slamming the front doors shut behind him. He was practically limping. Valentino had worked him to the goddamn bone, insisting he tried out new kinks that Angel didn’t even know people could have. Sick bastards.

He plopped down on one of the barstools in the lobby, groaning indignantly at the added discomfort for his ass. “Whiskers, I’m gon’ need your strongest shit,” he said, mustering up one of his flirty smiles. He sure as hell didn’t need the new “bar-therapist” to comment about his current state. “And if you could top it off with one of them cute li’l umbrellas, that’d be wonderful,” he added, drawing out the last syllable.

Husk scoffed. “The fuck does this look like?” He gestured pointedly around him. Given both Husk and the bar were fairly recent add-ons to the hotel, there wasn’t a lot other than cheap alcohol and the occasional roach.

Sighing over-dramatically, Angel got up off the stool, ignoring how his entire fucking body protested. “‘Gotta do everything myself,” he complained. He circled behind the counter and began inspecting what they had.

“You can’t just-” Husk began.

“Listen, toots, I get you’re the bartender and all that, but that don’t mean you’re the only one who can make a drink worth shit,” Angel interrupted, his multiple hands searching through the rows of bottles. Alastor clearly didn’t give a rat’s ass about stocking the hotel with half-decent booze.

Husk threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I get paid to deal with you fuckers anyways,” he muttered. “‘Bar’s all yours.”

With that, Husk shuffled to move past Angel. Given the cramped space, Husk had to brush up right against him.

Angel froze.

He could do touch. Hell, touch was his entire goddamn career. Outside of work, he touched people all the time. He’d flirtily caress practically anyone who crossed his path. He’d cup their cheeks (face or ass, depending on his mood), whisper filthy shit in their ear, trace his fingers over their lips - whatever worked to give him some semblance of control over the situation.

But people touching him? He wasn’t in control. He wasn’t the one initiating. And all too soon in scenarios like that, no matter how innocent the touch, he’d be reminded of all the sick shit Valentino had him do.

It was almost funny, in a fucked up way: a pornstar that hated people touching him.

Immediately, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, practically bolting to the other side of the bar. Husk shot him a confused look.

“You’re, uh, right,” Angel coughed out, desperately trying to cram down the panic rising up in his gut. “There isn’t anything in those bottles worth putting in my body. And that’s saying a lot, comin’ from a guy like me.”

The joke didn’t land as smoothly as he hoped it would. Fuckin’ Husk and his judgemental cat eyes. He felt like the man was staring right into his chained soul, seeing every last vulnerable part of him.

“Tell Alastor to get better stuff,” Angel added in a futile attempt to sound casual. Offering another bullshit grin, he hurried away from the bar, feeling Husk’s eyes on him the entire time.

ii.

It wasn’t often that Angel met someone he couldn’t seduce or at least get some kind of sexual reaction from. Obviously, there were exceptions - lesbians, asexuals, and, occasionally, a straight man with no taste. But as far as people who were attracted to men? Angel never had a problem riling them up.

That was why Husk confused him so goddamn much.

Angel knew the bastard liked dick to some extent; Husk had mentioned a previous gay fling he’d had when he was still alive. And yet, Angel couldn’t get so much as a blush. A stutter. Fuckin’ anything. It bruised his ego more than he’d like to admit.

“Man, stop staring at me. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

Husk’s voice snapped Angel back to reality. The two were on couches across from each other in the hotel lobby. The book Husk had been reading was bookmarked and his full attention was on Angel.

Showtime.

“‘Can’t blame a guy for starin’ at what he likes,” Angel purred. Everyone liked flattery, especially in Hell where a solid ninety-nine percent of the population was egotistical shitbags. “Those reading glasses you got on are enough to make anyone fuckin’ drool, toots.”

Unfortunately, that made Husk promptly take them off, setting the glasses down on the wooden coffee table. “Cut the shit, Angel. You know that stuff doesn’t work on me.”

“Oh, come on,” Angel whined. He got up off the couch, sauntering over to Husk. He made a show of stretching out his limbs, letting his crop top ride up even higher. Shit like this would make most people hot in all the right places, but Husk didn’t even look fazed.

He was practically showing off his entire lower torso by the time he swooped down to Husk’s couch, lounging as close as he could to him. “I know folks who would kill to touch me even once,” Angel crooned, “and here I am offerin’ myself up to you and you ain’t gonna do nothin’ about it?”

Husk snorted in response. “Just because you’re a pornstar doesn’t mean everyone wants to sleep with you.”

Angel wrinkled his nose at that. Of course everyone wanted to sleep with him. That was his whole fuckin’ appeal. That’s why he was Valentino’s favorite, for fuck’s sake.

Deciding to amp up his antics, Angel raised his hand up, gently caressing Husk’s cheek. Maybe he liked ‘em sweeter with less dirty talk. It wasn’t Angel’s favorite role to play, but he could pull it off.

He ran his hand down Husk’s jaw, trailing down his neck, going to his chest-

“Stop.” Husk’s arm shot up, grabbing Angel’s wrist a little too tightly and yanking it away from him. And suddenly, the pressure was all-too-much like Valentino’s chains, his sharp nails, the goddamn bruises-

“Okay!” Angel yelled, much louder than he’d intended to, snatching his wrist back, pulling it close to his chest. “Fuckin’ okay! I get it!”

It wasn’t Husk’s fault. Deep down, Angel knew that. He was the one who had crossed boundaries, gone too far. But fuck it, it was easier to be pissed at Husk than to take responsibility for himself.

Angel turned abruptly, speed-walking away from the lounge, away from Husk, away from the situation, away from anything that could bring those memories back. He nearly tripped on Nifty and, despite growing kind of fond of her, he ignored her.

Charlie rushed into the room. “Angel! I heard yelling-” She stopped, looking at him worriedly. “Angel, are you-”

“Just leave me the hell alone,” Angel snapped, pushing past her.

He fucking hoped she didn’t see how close he was to crying.

iii.

The day had been a shitshow.

For some goddamn reason, Charlie decided to show up at Valentino’s studio, try to convince him to chill (like that’d ever work), and then accidentally set fire to fuckin’ everything. In response, Valentino had made him do every disgusting act known to man, all without breaks. And to top the shitty night off, Husk had the gall to judge him - call him “fake”, treat Angel like a goddamn kid, and try to fuckin’ act like he was anything better than Angel.

Fuck Husk. Fuck Valentino. Fuck everyone except for the booze in his hand and the loan sharks around him paying for it.

“Hey, baby, be a doll and bring me another one,” Angel cooed to the shark beside him that looked like he had a spiked dildo for a nose. “Daddy’s out of juice.”

Angel lounged back as Dildo-Nose got up and headed towards the bar. Even with what felt like gallons of alcohol in his system, Angel was still exhausted - both physically and emotionally. He had genuinely thought things were getting better for him. The hotel had seemed more welcoming than it used to. For a while, he actually felt like he had some semblance of home. Sure, the place was filled with fuckin’ weirdos, but they’d begun to grow on him. Except for Alastor. That motherfucker still creeped Angel out.

Dildo-Nose’s raspy voice snapped him back to reality. “Here you go, darling. Just for you-” He was about to hand Angel the drink when he was suddenly snatched backward.

“Nice try, fuckhead.”

Angel physically gawked at the sight of Husk grabbing Dildo-Nose and flinging him straight into the jukebox. He barely had time to register what the fuck was going on before Husk grabbed him, throwing cards like they were ninja-stars at the remaining loan sharks.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Angel protested loudly, tripping over himself repeatedly as Husk dragged him out of the nightclub, the two narrowly missing the several bullets being shot their way.

By the time they made it out onto the sidewalk, Angel had finally begun to process the situation, but he still couldn’t understand why it was happening. “Husk, what the actual fuck are you doing here?” he demanded.

It was then that his senses caught up to him and he realized Husk was physically restraining him. Despite what his films would have people think, Angel fucking hated being held still. It made him feel helpless in all the wrong ways. It made him feel trapped, weak, easy to use, easy to abuse.

“Let go of me!” Angel shouted, hating the way his voice cracked when he did. He tried to yank his upper set of arms back. He needed his fucking control back. He was panicking and it was beginning harder and harder to hide it.

Husk kept his grip firm. It was infuriating that he was stronger than Angel. “No, I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said.

Heart racing for all the wrong reasons, Angel continued to struggle against Husk. He tried telling himself that he wasn’t at the studio, that he wasn’t with Valentino, that he knew Husk wouldn’t try shit, but- “Get off!”

Angel yanked back hard enough and finally - fucking finally - Husk let him go. “That fucker put something in your drink,” Husk hissed.

“You don’t think I can tell if someone spikes my drink? I do this all the fucking time.” Angel’s heart was threatening to break out of his ribs, pounding so loud he could barely hear Husk. He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to risk Husk grabbing him again.

Husk stared at him in disbelief. “You just let people drug you all the time?”

Angel was about two seconds away from a breakdown. “You think I ask for it?! I don’t ask for any of this shit! I didn’t ask to be this way! I didn’t ask for Charlie to save me! I didn’t ask for you to save me. I can handle myself.”

“Really? Because I just saw someone self-destructing,” Husk retorted. “It seems like - I don’t know - you might need a bartender to talk to.”

Despite all the hiding and masking and acting Angel had done for as long as he could remember, he broke down right in front of the guy who he was seeking approval from most. He admitted fucking everything - the pretending, the escapism, the self-destruction, the hatred, the fear, all of it - laying out his deepest insecurities for Husk to see.

And, to Angel’s surprise, Husk didn’t judge him. In fact, he admitted to once being an Overlord and the mistakes he made that led him up to then.

It was almost comforting, knowing that someone else got it and really understood what Angel had been through. What he was still going through.

It was kind of nice.

iv.

“Alright! Thank you everyone for coming to today’s group bonding session!” Charlie cheered happily, clapping her hands together. She, Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, and Sir Pentious were gathered in the hotel lobby. Thankfully, Alastor was nowhere to be found. “For this afternoon’s activity, we’re all going to go around in a circle and everyone will give each person in the group a compliment! A great way to build trust is to feel appreciated by those around you!”

“Compliments?” Sir Pentious asked with a head tilt, drawing out the last consonant in a hiss. “Like telling someone they would make a worthy adversary?”

Charlie sucked in a breath. “Um, kind of! Sure!” she said, her painfully optimistic personality trying its best to shine through.

“I get hundreds of compliments a day about my looks, so I expect some original shit from you all,” Angel said with a grin. He was lounging on one of the lobby couches, Husk beside him. Since their fight and eventual make-up a month earlier, they’d begun to get along surprisingly well. They were a hell of a weird pair, but somehow, they made it work.

“Angel actually brings up a great point!” Charlie shot him a pleased smile. “We should all try to make our compliments sincere and about the person themselves, not just about their appearance! Angel, how about you go first?”

Angel nearly choked on air, covering it up with a cough. “Uh- I don’t know. Sentimentality ain’t really my thing, sweetheart,” he said, glancing around at the group. Sure, he’d say he was friendly with everyone, but he didn’t know the first thing about “sincere” compliments. “With my line of work, I tend to only praise people’s dick size.”

“Oooookay!” Charlie exhaled, still beaming from ear to ear, but her eyes revealed she did not know how to respond to that last part. “Well, er, even if they’re not… perfectly sincere compliments, how about you just give it your best shot?”

“Alright, fine, fine,” Angel said, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Uh, here goes nothin’, I guess. Nifty,” he began, looking down at the carpet where she was sitting, grimacing at the number of dead roaches in a pile beside her, “you are… without a doubt, the most insane woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowin’ and that’s sayin’ something.”

“Angel-!” Vaggie sounded like he was about to scold him, but was abruptly cut off by the sound of Nifty’s borderline-maniacal giggling.

Nifty rushed over to Angel, offering him one of the dead roaches like a pleased housecat offering her owner a mangy mouse. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she giggled, a familiar crazed look in her single eye. “I’ll name one of the stains on the carpet after you~”

Deciding it was safer to take that shit as a sign of goodwill, Angel nodded, picking up the roach by a leg and setting it to the side. “Wow, uh, thanks, Nifty. That’s… wonderful.”

She skittered back to her roach pile, humming softly to herself.

“Vaggie,” Angel paused, for a second, knowing he’d have to choose his words a little more carefully, “you’re scarily good at killin’ people and takin’ charge. The hotel’s, uh, lucky to have you protectin’ it.”

“That was surprisingly decent of you to say,” Vaggie said with raised eyebrows.

Angel turned away. Hell, this all felt humiliating. He wasn’t one to make people actually like him for anything other than sex. He never even signed up for this goody-two-shoes shtick. Initially, he’d only joined for the hotel so he had a free place to stay as far from Valentino as possible when he wasn’t working.

He glanced at Charlie, giving her an expression along the lines of, “Do I really have to keep going?” Unfortunately for him, she gave him a nod and a vaguely encouraging thumbs up.

Deciding to try and get it over as fast as possible, he quickly rattled out, “Charlie, you do great at running this hotel. I used to think you had a zero percent chance of redeemin’ Hell’s worst, but now I think you have a solid eight percent chance, so that’s progress. Sir Pentious, you’re fuckin’ weird as hell, but I’m beginnin’ to like you. And, screw it, if you want to go after Cherri Bomb, I ain’t gonna stop you. She bit her last ex’s head off, so to be honest, I’m more worried for you.”

Charlie was silent, clearly trying to process all the bullshittery that spewed out of Angel’s mouth. Sir Pentious, however, seemed elated. “Really? So, you think I have a chance with her? This is brilliant news! I will have my dear Egg Bois set up a courtship invitation with her!” His weird-ass snake eyes were practically shimmering with excitement.

Apparently relieved at Sir Pentious’ positive reaction, Charlie smiled again. “That seemed to go well! Perfect! Now, you just need to give Husk a compliment and we can move on to the next person!”

Right. Husk. Angel tried to swallow down his nervousness as he turned to Husk. He was cool with everyone else at the hotel. Friendship might be a strong word, but it was something like that. But with Husk? There was something deeper: a mutual understanding, shared trauma, maybe actual trust - if that was still something Angel could actually fucking feel.

“Come on. Surely, you have one nice thing to say about me,” Husk said with an easy-going smile, light sarcasm lacing his tone.

Angel scoffed, trying to keep his usual air of nonchalance. “I don’t know. Nothing’s comin’ to mind. I guess you’re a half-decent drinking buddy,” he said, teasing a little. “You, uh, get me… in ways other folks don’t. And because of that, you’re pretty damn patient with me, even when I’m a whiny asshole, which I appreciate. A lot. You’re fun to hang around. I feel comfortable around you, which, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt since workin’ for Valentino. You’re a real cool son of a bitch and I’m lucky to have you.”

He suddenly became very aware that the room had fallen silent. Hell, even Nifty wasn’t doing her creepy ritualistic-sounding humming. He’d been rambling. He’d let too much spill. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“That actually means a lot to me,” Husk said, a little grin on his face. He reached up and placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder. And for a blissful second, it felt fine. It felt okay. Until Angel’s goddam mind became too acutely aware of how close Husk’s fingers were to his neck, how easily he could grab him by the throat just like how Valentino did so often. Angel knew Husk would never do that. Of course, he knew that. But the fear was still there. Consuming him, fucking torturing him every second that Husk’s hand was on his shoulder.

Angel shrugged his shoulder and thankfully, it made Husk’s touch fall away. Trying to recover, Angel cleared his throat loudly. “Right. Okay. Next person.”

It took until the end of the group activity for Angel’s heart to finally calm down.

Angel had been at Hazbin Hotel for over five months and it had genuinely begun to feel like home. He couldn’t remember the last time a place felt like that, even back when he was alive.

He was helping restock Husk’s bar with better shit after the two of them had gone out and bought about three dozen bottles of actually decent booze. In all honesty, Angel couldn’t care less about the quality of their alcohol (he’d drank a lot worse, both on Earth and in Hell). Lately, he’d been looking for more and more excuses to spend time with Husk.

It wasn’t a crush, per se. Angel was a fucking pornstar, for Lucifer’s sake. He didn’t get horny-people shit like that. It was just that he enjoyed Husk’s company. That was all.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Speak of the devil, Husk came around the bar, a box of bottles clanking together in his arms. “Vaggie offered to give us some of her collection that she used to hide from Charlie. I took a look at them and honestly, she has some good shit in here.”

“Yeah?” Angel smiled in spite of himself. “‘Doesn’t surprise me that she hid it. I don’t think Charlie’s still too thrilled that we got a bar in her redemption joint.”

Husk shrugged, setting the box down on the bar top. “I don’t know. Maybe she could turn it into a lesson on healthy moderation.”

Angel snorted. “Sure sounds like somethin’ she’d do.”

He began sifting through the bottles, taking a few of them out to inspect the labels. After a while, he became very aware of Husk’s eyes on him. The gaze wasn’t judgemental like it once was when they first met. It felt warmer than that. Softer than that. Angel sure as hell wasn’t used to anyone looking at him in that way.

“These’ll do,” Angel said, feigning a nonchalant demeanor. He turned to begin shelving them away, only for his high-heeled boots to catch on one of Nifty’s roach corpse piles. He nearly went careening to the ground, if not for Husk’s hands grabbing onto his waist, hauling him back up before he could smash both the bottles and possibly his skull onto the hardwood floor.

“Shit-” Angel scrambled to get back his footing, pausing for a few seconds to regain himself before the continued sensation of Husk’s hands on his waist caught up to him.

It’s just Husk. It’s just Husk, he tried to tell himself. God-fucking-damnit, he hated the way he couldn’t handle even innocent physical touch, not even from the man he trusted the fuckin’ most. What is wrong with me?

In an attempt to save himself from an oncoming panic attack, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, awkwardly smoothing down his clothes. “You’d think I’d be more careful where I step after livin’ with Nifty for as long as we have now,” he joked, willing himself to calm down.

Husk’s gaze told Angel he wasn’t buying it. “Angel, do you not like being touched? At all?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. As if he was afraid that Angel might break down if he was too direct or harsh. His tone made Angel want to cry and he didn’t know whether it was out of shame or relief.

“What? Psssh, nah, what are you talkin’ about?” Angel set the bottles down, giving Husk what he hoped looked like an easy-going grin. “I just don’t want you to get an STD or some shit from me.”

Husk frowned. “You and I both know you can’t get an STD from something like that.”

“You never know! Hell’s a dirty place! There’s probably diseases all over the place, especially on me.” Angel tried to laugh it off, grimacing when he saw Husk’s expression remain serious. “Look, I swear it’s nothin’. You’re worryin’ too much.”

“I’ve seen you, both with me and a few of the others,” Husk continued. “It seems like you’re fine when you touch us. But the second any of us touch you, even slightly? You shut down. I can see the panic in your eyes every time.”

Angel swallowed, wrapping his two sets of arms around himself. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It clearly is to you,” Husk said, stepping closer, while still maintaining comfortable space between the two of them (a sentiment that Angel’s heart warmed at). “I don’t know nearly anything about what that asshole moth does to you or makes you do, but I’m gonna take a bold guess and say this-” he gestured to Angel’s closed-off posture, “-is because of him. I want to know what you’re uncomfortable with because I never want to make you feel the way that motherfucker makes you feel or the way Alastor makes me feel. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Going quiet for a long moment, Angel nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.” He glanced around the lobby, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “Look, I really enjoy being around you. You make me feel like I can be myself and not- whatever it is that Val wants me to be, y’know? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I don’t trust you or shit. ‘Cause I do. It’s just… something about being touched without warnin’. I don’t know. It makes me feel like I wanna crawl out of my skin.”

Husk nodded. Thank Lucifer, his gaze didn’t seem like he was pitying Angel or seeing him as some fucked-up mess that needed to be coddled like a damn baby. He just seemed understanding. Empathetic. And fuck, if that didn’t make Angel’s guts do a flip.

“I’ll tell Nifty to keep her roach piles away from the bar,” Husk said, mercifully changing the subject as though sensing how uncomfortable it made Angel to bear his soul (that wasn’t even really his anymore) to him.

“Thank you,” Angel mumbled quietly, hoping Husk knew he wasn’t talking about the roaches.

vi.

They’d done it. They’d actually fucking done it. They’d fended off the Extermination.

The hotel was in shambles, to say the least. Hell, Angel didn’t know if it could be considered a building anymore at that point. Because of the extreme damage, only a few rooms had been left (somewhat) intact. Charlie had promised they’d finish renovations tomorrow with the help of her dad, but she insisted everyone rest after the whole-ass battle they’d had.

Given the very limited selection of rooms that weren’t extreme safety hazards to sleep in (four to be exact - Vaggie had counted), Charlie had everyone pair off. Angel had a feeling it was more to give everyone a sense of companionship given they all had a new sprinkle of PTSD added into their already shitty mental states. Charlie and Vaggie had obviously gotten one of the rooms to themselves. Rosie had insisted on keeping Alastor company. Why the hell someone would want to spend a second with that creep was beyond Angel’s understanding. Nifty and the remaining Egg Bois had grouped up in one of the smaller hotel rooms. And that left the remaining room for Angel and Husk.

“Seriously? The sharing one bed shtick?” Angel scoffed, plopping down on the mattress. “‘Sounds like something straight out of one of my porn movies.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “I can sleep on the floor if the thought makes you uncomfortable. I know, uh, being reminded of your work isn’t exactly your idea of a good time.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Angel insisted, clambering into bed, already in his pajamas and having cleaned most of the angel blood out of his hair. “It ain’t like I think you’re gonna pull shit or anything.”

With a shrug, Husk reluctantly got into bed beside him. The room was already near pitch dark thanks to the electrical system being blasted apart. The only light was from the crimson sky of Hell, serving as a forever reminder of their damnation.

Silence fell between the two of them for a long while, a comfortable few inches of space between them on the king-sized mattress. Angel was beginning to think Husk had already fallen asleep until he finally spoke.

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone, you know?” Husk said quietly and Angel immediately knew who he was referring to. An uncomfortable sensation of guilt panged in his stomach. Fuck, he hadn’t even been thinking about Sir Pentious. In all the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten about the insane, but admirable, shit he’d pulled.

“Yeah,” Angel breathed. “And just as I was beginnin’ to like him too.”

Husk exhaled out a long, tired sigh. “I wish he’d been the one to magically show up, not Alastor. Fuck, for a second there, I really thought I was free.”

“I’m sorry” was all Angel could muster. Hell, he was shit with words and even more shit at comforting people. He wished he knew all the right things to say to make Husk feel better, show him that Angel really did care about him. It was probably more than just care. Angel didn’t know what it was that he felt for Husk, but he knew damn well it was strong. Even stronger than his initial admiration and adoration for Valentino back when he’d first met him.

Without giving himself time to hesitate, he reached forward, enveloping Husk in a hug. At that point, he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his fears. All he wanted was to comfort Husk. That was the only damn thing driving him.

“Whoa-” Husk mumbled under his breath, surprise evident in his tone. “Angel, I know you don’t like this sort of thing. You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Angel interrupted.

Cautiously, Angel felt Husk relax and carefully wrap his arms around Angel, embracing him back. To Angel’s immediate surprise, he didn’t feel the all-too-familiar sensation of panic rising up in him. If anything, he felt the opposite. He felt safe. He felt accepted. Shit, he felt loved.

Husk was pressed right up against Angel’s whole body. His face was buried in Angel’s shoulder and Angel could feel Husk’s breath gently puffing against the top of his chest fluff. Under any other circumstances, Angel would be yanking away, shoving the person off of him. His heart was beating slower than usual, rather than faster. He didn’t know if it was some sort of freaky cat magic, but he genuinely felt calmer.

It dawned on him that it was the only time he’d felt someone pressed so completely against him and it didn’t feel sexual at all.

“I don’t think I can remember the last time I hugged someone,” Husk mumbled against his shoulder.

Angel huffed out a quiet laugh. “Shit, people wrap their arms around me all the damn time. But uh, yeah, this… feels different. ‘Feels better.”

He could’ve sworn he felt Husk smile a little and Hell, it made Angel’s stomach flutter like he was a goddamn teenager.

They laid there for a long time until Husk’s breath slowed, his weight leaning more into Angel as quiet snores escaped his parted lips. Someone falling asleep on him was definitely new to Angel. Even on set, Valentino didn’t give a shit about aftercare or, honestly, any care at all.

Despite telling himself over and over again that he’d never trust someone again after Val, Angel found himself drifting off next to Husk, feeling safe and secure in ways he’d been craving for decades.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #huskerdust #hazbin husk #angel dust x husk #oneshot #fanfiction

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year

Text

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!) ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the fires of unholy week rage still, but perhaps today the sinful and the sweet can mix — consider it a calm before the storm ∼

∼ day four brings us our beloved cop with a heart of gold ♥ Miranda Hilmarson ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #fluff and smut #cunnilingus #vaginal fingering #strap-ons #lesbian sex #bisexual character #gangbang #lesbian gangbang #porn #sex work #triple penetration #double penetration #face-fucking #face-sitting #butt slapping #face slapping #acted-out rape #pretend rape #degradation #verbal humiliation #handcuffs #prison sex #friends to lovers #rape fantasy #multiple orgasms #kink!week

...but we could be (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Miranda is crunching on her cereal.

Very loudly. Robin waits for her to finish eating so she can concentrate. She counts to ten in her mind to calm down. Then she counts to twenty and then to fifty, and Miranda is still fucking eating. It sounds like she’s chewing on her own teeth.

Finally, she snaps. “Hilmarson, will you cut it out?”

“Whaf?” she asks, mouth full, eyes wide. She looks like a kicked puppy.

“The chewing. It’s fucking annoying.”

If Miranda was a puppy, her ears would droop. She looks down at the desk and swallows a mouthful of cereal. “Oh. Sorry.”

Robin returns to typing on her computer. Finally, some fucking peace and quiet—

“I shouldn’t overeat, anyway. I was just so hungry. I’m going to brunch later, you know.”

“Hm,” Robin grumbles, not wanting to incite further conversation — and it works. Miranda is no longer crunching on her goddamn cereal, she’s no longer talking, and Robin can finally work in peace.

The fucking brunch is bothering her though.

“Since when do you eat brunch?” she can’t help but ask. She never imagined Miranda to be the sort of person who eats brunch.

“Oh, I don’t usually — I only eat brunch with my pornstar friends!”

Robin almost chokes on her own spit. “Your what?”

“My pornstar friends,” she says, beaming.

“Right.” Robin hates that she wants to know more about this. “And those are… friends from school that went on to become pornstars?”

“Oh, no. We know each other from the shoot. I starred in a video, you know.” She sounds proud as she says it.

Robin blinks. “You starred… in a porno?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah! It was like an all-girl gangbang scene in a women’s prison. And all the girls were super nice so we stayed in touch. We get brunch every couple of weeks.”

Robin stopped listening on the gangbang part. She shakes her head. “Hilmarson, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

“I’ve been asked, you know. I was on my way to the gym and this really nice lady approached me and told me they need someone tall for a shoot they’re doing, and asked me if I’d be comfortable filming a sex scene. And I said, depends, you know. I wouldn’t do any piss stuff, that’d be nasty. Then she told me it’s an all girl gangbang scene and I couldn’t believe it! That’s been my fantasy since I was a teen!”

“Your fantasy?” Robin repeats. All of this sounds like a fever dream, and something that could definitely only happen to Miranda.

“Yeah! People have asked me to do sex work before, you know. Because of, well,” she gestures to herself, waving her arms up and down, “this. I’ve been asked to be an escort, but that just seemed, oh, I don’t know. Rather bleak.”

Robin can’t imagine a bleaker job than being a police officer, but she says nothing.

“I usually say no when people ask, though — but I couldn’t say no to this. It was a once in a lifetime chance!”

Robin blinks really, really slowly, trying to process what she just heard.

Miranda’s face suddenly lights up. “Oh! Oh! I can show you!”

Robin shakes her head. “What?” she asks, but Miranda is already scooting over to Robin’s desk on her chair. Before Robin knows it, Miranda is sitting next to her and grabbing her keyboard.

“It’s available online. It’s on a payed website, but I have access to it. Just a sec,” she says as she types in the address.

Robin grabs the keyboard from her, and Miranda gives her a wide-eyed look. “Are you fucking mental? You can’t search for porn at a police station! And we certainly can’t watch that here!”

“Oh. Right,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. She seems to genuinely not have thought of that. “Well, we could watch it at my place.”

Robin can’t believe her ears. “Sorry, what?”

“We could watch it at my place,” Miranda repeats. “We can get popcorn and beer, and I can show you.”

Robin scoffs in bewilderment. “I won’t watch your porn, Hilmarson. That’d be weird.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, I’m fine with it. It’s really hot, you know. And it wouldn’t be weird. We wouldn’t like, watch the whole thing. We could just watch the beginning, before the action starts. It’s really cool. All the girls are amazing actresses, it’s really realistic. Well, until the part with the sex toys. There’s no way they could get away with having those in prison.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s no way she’s watching porn with Miranda — especially not Miranda-porn.

“Oh. Okay,” she says, disappointed, and rolls her chair back to her desk.

They continue to work in silence, but Robin can’t focus. Something’s bothering her.

“I didn’t know you were into girls,” she finally says.

She glances at Miranda, who opens up her drawer and pulls out a bag of chips. Her cereal sits forgotten next to her.

“It didn’t come up.” Miranda opens the bag and shoves a fistful of chips into her mouth. Robin recoils at the horrifying crunching noise and turns her gaze back to the computer screen.

Miranda crunches on her chips for a couple of seconds before asking a question, Robin doesn’t want to answer — but she supposes it’s fair of Miranda to ask, since Robin was the one who broached the subject. “Are you into girls, Griffin?”

“Not usually,” she says. She doesn’t really wanna talk about it.

“But sometimes?” Miranda asks, still crunching away.

“I guess.”

She lifts her gaze and finds Miranda looking at her with curiosity, munching on her chips. “I thought you had a bit of a vibe,” Miranda says.

“I don’t have a vibe.”

Miranda shrugs. “Okay. I’m not very good at telling, anyway. Girls like me, you know. I think it’s the height. I rarely have to approach first.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Miranda says. “Want chips?”

“No.”

Robin hears Miranda shove the bag back into the drawer. They both continue to work in silence. Robin’s finding it hard to concentrate on work, but she refuses to stop. Her thoughts wander.

It never occurred to her that Miranda might be into women. She doesn’t know why the thought plagues her. It’s nothing special — many women are into other women. Robin has had… experiences. Not her thing, really. Except that one time — but that was its own sort of disaster.

She always thought Miranda had horrible taste in men. Her brother is a prime example, as well as their boss — just garbage man after garbage man. Women are at least prettier, if nothing else — even when their personalities are garbage. Maybe Miranda would do better finding a nice woman for herself. She hopes her taste in women is better than in men, but her hopes aren’t high — Miranda is sort of a walking disaster with no self-preservation instincts. Who accepts to star in a porno after being approached on the street?

About ten minutes pass in silence. Robin doesn’t work — instead she thinks about Miranda’s love life — and then the very subject of her thoughts interrupts her ruminating by speaking again.

“Hey, wanna have brunch with us? I’d really love for you to meet the girls. You’ll love them, I swear. They’re really nice.”

Unlike Miranda, Robin didn’t have breakfast, nor chips, and she can hear her stomach growling. She should probably eat something.

Ah, what the hell.

“Sure,” she says.

Miranda squeaks — she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Robin really hopes she won’t regret this.

“Miranda! Miranda!” a group of five pretty young women squeals from across the restaurant.

“Ohmygod, hiiii!” Miranda squeals back and scurries towards the girls. She pulls each of them into a bone crushing hug. They all reach up to her shoulders — they are absolutely tiny compared to her. Robin can’t imagine what that fucking video must have looked like.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, Mirandy!” one of them says, squished against Miranda’s chest.

“I’ve missed you too!”

They all hug and scream and Robin just stands there, feeling like she’s witnessing a sorority girls reunion in an American rom-com. She’s already regretting this. “Everybody, meet Robin,” Miranda says after they’re done screaming, her face beaming in delight. Robin hates to admit that she looks kind of cute, all happy and glowing like this. “She’s gonna join us for brunch today.”

The nearest of the girls goes to pull her in a hug. “Hi, Robin! I’m Tracy.”

Robin scoots away. “Not a hugger. Sorry,” she says.

“Oh,” the girl says, clearly disappointed.

“Oh, sorry, should’ve told you we are all huggers,” Miranda says to Robin, then turns to the girls. “She always acts all mean, but really she’s a delight. She’s the best partner one could wish for.”

“Work partner,” Robin adds, wanting to make it clear right off the bat that she and Miranda are not involved. They’re not even friends. “We’re work colleagues.”

The rest of the girls introduce themselves a bit more coldly, shaking her hand, and she immediately forgets their names. They’re all eyeing her up and down, studying her — it’s all rather awkward.

“We should sit down,” Miranda says, smiling, oblivious to the awkwardness, and they all sit down at the big table the girls have already occupied beforehand. Robin spends the brunch eating her food and minding her business. The girls try to include her in the conversation a couple of times, but once they realise she keeps giving one word replies to everything and doesn't speak unless directly spoken to, they slowly give up.

It doesn’t take a particularly observant person to see that the girls absolutely adore Miranda. They’re very touchy-feely with her, they all look at her with wide adoring eyes, and they seem to find her jokes genuinely funny. Robin can see why Miranda likes to hang out with them. Nobody at the police station treats her like that, that’s for sure.

The entire thing has a bit of a “schoolgirls at a sleepover” vibe, but gayer. All of the girls are very clearly into Miranda — they touch her uniform, ruffle her hair, give her an occasional peck on the cheek — and Miranda just sits there, looking absolutely delighted by everything that’s going on, radiating major golden retriever vibes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that these girls would clearly gladly fuck her again (that much is obvious even to Robin). There’s also lots of giggling and talking about clothes (she didn’t know Miranda was into clothes — but then again she did seem to be delighted by Prada shoes that one time). Robin’s just waiting for them to start braiding each other’s hair. The whole thing makes her uncomfortable, especially the physical affection — and on top of that, she’s never been the girly type. In fact, girls like that bullied her in school. She always thought Miranda was similar in that regard, but it looks like she was wrong.

She seems to be learning a lot of things about Miranda today.

She can’t wait for the whole thing to be over. The food was good, but not good enough to justify the torturous socialising she, for some unknown reason, willingly subjected herself to. She’s relieved when they all start getting up from the table.

She tries to move to the side and wait for Miranda to say her goodbyes, hoping no one will talk to her again — and she almost succeeds in her plan.

One of the girls — the one with jet black hair down to her butt and an eyebrow slit (she believes her name is Sydney or maybe Sally) — approaches her.

“Can I help you?” Robin asks rudely.

“Yes, actually, you can,” the girl says. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your thing is with Mir and it’s none of my business — I know she likes a tough bitch — but if you break her heart I will fucking cut you, get it?”

Robin scoffs. “What?”

“You heard me. That girl is a fucking delight. If you dim her light, we will all cut you.

“You might want to think before you threaten me. I’m a police officer,” Robin says, so pissed she doesn’t even try to explain she and Miranda are definitely not an item.

Sally — or Sydney — simply raises an eyebrow and eyes her up and down. “We’ve got contacts in the police, bitch. Watch out.”

And with that, she turns. “Mir-mir!” she yells and hurries towards Miranda. “I didn’t get my hug!”

Robin just watches Miranda hug whatever-her-name-is, shocked, mouth agape. She says nothing further as she and Miranda leave the restaurant. She doesn’t bother to wave at the girls, or even spare them a second glance.

“So? What do you think? Aren’t they amazing?” Miranda asks the second they step onto the street. Her voice is high-pitched with excitement. “With them I feel like I’m finally part of the girl’s club. It’s so nice.”

She doesn’t even look at Miranda, just keeps on walking. Miranda just follows her like a puppy.

“I didn’t know you were a girly girl.”

“Oh, I never used to be. Girls like them used to bully me in school. And look at me now,” she says proudly. “I really came a long way.”

“It’s because they want to fuck you,” Robin says before she can stop herself.

“Oh, that’s not the only reason. They were really nice to me at the shoot, and they really didn’t have to be. I was very nervous, and they did their best to make me comfortable.”

Robin scoffs. “One of them threatened to, I quote, ‘cut me’ if I break your heart. The one with black hair.”

“Oh, Samantha?”

(Okay — so neither Sydney nor Sally.)

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Miranda says carefully. “It’s just something you say.”

“Yeah, when people are an item. But you and I are not an item.”

“Oh, they know that.”

Robin stops walking and looks Miranda in the eyes. “Do they?”

Miranda just laughs. “Yeah! You told them, and then I told them again.”

She pauses for a second.

“Besides, I know you wouldn’t spare me a second glance,” she adds and gives Robin a little smile — the smile of a person who’s used to not getting picked first and is completely okay with it. For some reason, it breaks Robin’s heart.

She frowns. “It’s not that I wouldn’t.”

Miranda’s eyes light up. “You would? Okay, so like, if you didn’t know me, and we met randomly at a bar, would you buy me a drink?”

Robin sighs and starts walking again. “I don’t know, Hilmarson. Maybe. I’d have to be drunk.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, I’d be drunk too!” she says and happily scurries after her. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I’d totally let you buy me a drink.”

Robin says nothing further. They walk in silence for a while until they reach the police station.

When Miranda goes to enter the building, Robin stops her. “Wait,” she says.

Miranda turns and looks at her with those big, blue, puppy eyes. “Yes?”

Robin doesn’t know what possessed her.

“If I agree to see the video, do you promise to tell those girls once and for all that we are not together?”

“Oh, you don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to. And they know we’re not together.”

“Tell them again.”

“Okay, sure,” she says.

They stand like that for a long moment, neither of them moving. “Uh… do you want to… see the video?” Miranda finally asks, confused.

Robin purses her lips. “It will plague me if I don’t. But we stop at the actual porn part.”

Miranda’s entire face lights up. “Of course,” she chirps. “Oh, I’ll get snacks and everything, it’s gonna be so much fun, I promise! Come to mine around eight?”

“Sure.”

She ignores Miranda the rest of the day, but Miranda is in such a good mood that she doesn't seem to mind — or notice — at all.

Robin doesn’t know why she did it. She supposes it’s her morbid curiosity — or perhaps it’s that sometimes she gets awfully lonely in her flat at night, and she would appreciate some company. Miranda is obnoxious, but she’s the only person that Robin didn’t manage to chase away with her foul attitude — not for the lack of trying.

Miranda is not someone Robin would normally pick as a friend, but she has to admit that Miranda is a very good friend. Robin knows she could count on her if needed — and now that she thinks about it, if her place was burning down, Miranda would be the first person she’d call — because she knows Miranda would answer.

Miranda has shit taste in men, but maybe Robin has shit taste in friends. And maybe she needs someone like Miranda to keep her at least somewhat fit for society. Without her, she’d become a true hermit.

…

Still — is it weird to watch porn with a work colleague?

She decides not to dwell on it — she already agreed to the thing, anyway. And it’s Miranda — there’s no way it could lead to anything sexual. Worst case scenario, it’ll be awkward, and then they’ll never mention it again.

With that thought, she closes the subject in her mind and continues to work undisturbed until the end of her shift.

When Miranda opens the door that evening, she’s grinning from ear to ear. Robin can’t get an image of an excited puppy out of her head.

“Hiii!” she says, moving aside so Robin can enter. Robin’s eyes wander to her flimsy, almost see-through T-shirt.

“Couldn’t you have found a proper shirt to put on?” she grumbles, moving past her and walking towards the living room. She knows where everything is — after all, all the apartments in this building are more or less the same.

Miranda glances down towards her own chest. “Oh, I just forgot. These are my PJs.” She scurries after Robin, following her to the couch. “Why, Griffin? You into me?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear. “You wanna daaaate me and make loooooove to me?”

Robin sits down and on the couch, crossing her arms and legs. Miranda plops down on the couch next to her, making kissing noises into the air. The couch bounces with the force of Miranda’s weight being thrown on it.

“If you continue to be weird about this, I will leave.”

She won’t leave. Robin hates to admit it, but she’s feeling a bit weepy tonight. She would really appreciate some human contact — but she will be grumpy about it

“If it really bothers you, I can change,” Miranda says.

“Forget it,” Robin grumbles.

“Okay. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She could use a beer. Or seven. She can’t believe she’s about to watch Miranda’s fucking porno — even if it is only the intro.

Miranda disappears into the kitchen and quickly comes back with two opened beers and a bucket of popcorn. She puts the popcorn on the little coffee table in front of the couch and hands one beer to Robin. “Here you go. Do you want a glass?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She takes a big swig.

“Someone’s thirsty,” Miranda says as she sits down, taking a sip as well. She makes herself comfortable, lifting her long legs (that, Robin notices, look even longer and leaner in the black tights she’s wearing) onto the couch and crossing them. The way she moves, all tall and lanky, reminds Robin of a baby deer.

“It’s just been a day,” Robin says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “Has it? You typed on your laptop and had brunch.”

Robin shrugs, staring at the bowl of popcorn on the table, not looking at Miranda or her flimsy fucking shirt. “Well, it’s been a day in my brain, I guess.”

“Oh. I get it. I have those too, sometimes. You PMS-ing?”

Robin takes another swig of her beer. “None of your business.”

“So grumpy,” Miranda tuts. “So, you wanna get right to it? I have it all set up on the TV.”

“Sure.”

Robin drinks her beer, feeling a bit fragile. Maybe she is about to get her period. She shouldn’t for another two weeks, but maybe it’s early. Being with someone really helps, though — and so does the beer.

Miranda grabs the remote from the coffee table and fumbles with it a little bit. “Okay, so it’s connected to the tablet… alright, here we go.”

A big title appears on the screen.

Girlbang series production — Fun In Prison

Robin already regrets this. “I still can’t believe you agreed to that. You’re a police officer. Did they at least blur your face?”

Miranda presses pause. “Oh, they asked me if I wanted them to, and I said no.”

Robin chokes on her beer. “Why?”

“Oh, I just think it’d ruin the viewer’s experience. Besides, it’s on a paid website. Nobody in their right mind pays for porn.” She cranes her head towards Robin and Robin finally makes eye contact. She tries very hard not to stare at her chest. It’s not that Miranda has such amazing tits, it’s just that you can’t just not look at someone’s tits if they’re right fucking there. “Have you ever paid for porn?”

“No?” Robin says.

“Precisely.”

Robin scoffs, and then chuckles. “So. Wanna tell me about the plot?”

“Oh, yes!” She bounces on the couch, grinning excitedly, her eyes twinkling. Robin must admit, when she isn’t being annoying, she is rather endearing. “They didn’t even plan on filming a prison scene before they hired me, it was supposed to be just a regular gangbang. But then I told that lady that I’m a cop, and she lost her mind. She told me, Miranda, I’m ready to beg you to do a prison scene — and I said, oh you don’t have to beg, I’ll do it, that’s like, so hot. You ever seen Orange Is The New Black?”

“No.”

Miranda sighs. “Babe, you live under a rock.”

Robin just shrugs and drinks some more of her beer.

“Anyway, the plot is basically that I’m a cop who gets ambushed while doing nightly rounds and then they all fuck me and it’s really hot.”

“Sounds very complex,” Robin deadpans.

“It’s better when you see the visuals. And all the girls are reeeeally hot — but you already know that.”

“I’m sure you’re hot too. Like, those girls seemed into you today.”

“Told you — it’s the height.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got other things going.”

Miranda looks at her with those big, blue puppy eyes and Robin feels a wave of affection wash over her like a fucking disease.

“Like what?” she asks, and Robin can see the question is genuine.

“I don’t know, Hilmarson, but you do,” she mumbles grumpily. “I can’t think of anything right now, you put me on the spot. Let’s just watch the thing.”

She can think of at least a couple of things — but it feels weird to hand out compliments. She can’t force herself to push the words out of her mouth.

Miranda looks a bit disappointed. “Sure,” she says and presses play.

Robin has to admit — this thing isn’t half bad, as far as pornos go. The acting is not terrible (except Miranda’s, which is tragic). The prison uniforms look correct, and Miranda’s does as well — it’s a bit tighter than it needs to be, but Robin thinks it suits her. It shows off her long legs. Miranda actually looks good, and they put some very natural makeup on her.

Miranda towers over every girl, and it looks a bit ridiculous when the first one comes up to her and shoves her against the wall. That’s, however, when Miranda’s acting really improves — and Robin suspects it’s because she isn’t acting anymore. She looks like she’s really into it.

The intro is long — longer than Robin thought it would be, but she supposes that’s how it is with high quality porn you gotta fucking pay for — and Robin is on her second beer and already drunk, and she can’t stop thinking about how disappointed Miranda looked when she refused to compliment her and she also can’t stop thinking about her tits in that see-through shirt and about her puppy eyes, and wow, that girl pinned her on the bed and bit her neck and Miranda’s moan is really sexy and fuck, that was really hot. Another girl rips off her shirt and Miranda is now only in a lacy blue bra and Robin can see her nipples, and suddenly she’s hyperaware of the fact that she could also see her nipples if she just turned a bit to the left and—

Miranda pauses the video.

“That’s the intro,” she says, glancing towards Robin. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Robin says and her voice is much squeakier than she intended it to be. She clears her throat. “It’s good.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that? You don’t look like you like it. You’re doing that weird face.”

Robin frowns. “What weird face?”

“That weird face you always do. You scrunch your nose and look annoyed.”

“I think that’s just my face.”

“Oh.”

They sit in awkward silence for a bit, and then Robin turns to Miranda to fully face her.

“I’m a bitch,” she says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “What?”

“I’m a bitch. I’m a bitch to you, I’m a bitch to everyone. Everybody in their right mind has already left me. Why won’t you leave?”

Miranda is silent for a moment. She places her beer down on the coffee table. “Do you… want me to leave you?”

“No.”

“Why? You don’t seem to like me. You couldn’t even think of one thing to compliment me on.”

“That’s because I’m a bitch. But I do like you. And yes, you do annoy me, but I think you have many good qualities. You’re loyal and kind, even when everybody’s being terrible to you, including myself. Your jokes aren’t funny, but they cheer me up. And you have much more going for you than your height. You have nice tits and really long legs and pretty eyes, and no man I ever saw you fool around with was ever worthy of you.”

Miranda stares at her, at a loss for words. “Do you really think that?” she slowly asks.

“Yes. I really don’t understand why you didn’t ditch me a long time ago, though.” She averts her eyes, then takes another sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’m worthy of you either.”

Robin can feel the couch shift as Miranda scoots closer to her. Miranda takes the beer from her hand and places it on the coffee table, then grabs her by the shoulders. “Robin. Robin, look at me.”

Robin reluctantly meets her gaze. She doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close. She can feel Miranda’s breath on her face, and the only thing she can think about is that Miranda’s eyes are very blue.

“I think you’re a good person,” Miranda says. Robin glances at her lips. They are very pink. “You’ve just been through a lot. I like you, and I want to be your friend. I won’t just leave if you’re acting like a bitch sometimes.”

Robin kisses her.

Miranda squeaks, but she doesn’t pull away. Robin grabs her neck and her waist and pulls her closer and then Miranda is kissing her back. She hums into the kiss and it drives Robin wild, and then she pushes her tongue into Miranda’s mouth and Miranda immediately welcomes it. They kiss like they’re hungry, and Miranda is a sloppy kisser but somehow in a good way, and Robin loves it, loves how warm and wet her tongue is, and how big her hands feel on her waist. Miranda whimpers when Robin’s hands wander to her tits. She finally indulges into what she’s been thinking about the entire evening and gropes Miranda over her shirt.

Miranda pulls away. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. But I also want to watch the porno till the end. I want to see you get fucked, and then I want to fuck you.”

Miranda’s eyes go dark with desire and she kisses her again, then pulls away. “No problem,” she says, grinning a bit mischievously. She pushes Robin back into the couch. “Lie back and relax. I’ll eat you out while you watch.”

Robin can’t remember the last time someone ate her out, and her pussy throbs just thinking about it. “Okay,” she says with a breathy voice. Miranda presses play and the video takes off where they paused it — a closeup of Miranda’s tits in the lacy blue bra.

Miranda pushes away the coffee table and sinks down on the floor, getting onto her knees in front of Robin. Robin’s chest is heaving and she can feel her cheeks flushing as Miranda unzips her jeans. “Up,” she says, and Robin lifts her hips. Miranda pulls down her jeans and underwear in one swift move, pulling them over her knees and feet and discarding them on the floor, leaving her completely bare and exposed. Robin almost feels self-conscious, almost tells her to wait, to slow down — but then Miranda looks at her bare pussy with such lust and adoration in her gaze that Robin just can’t feel embarrassed anymore.

“It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve had someone do this to me,” she says breathlessly.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you,” Miranda says, and she also sounds a bit out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. Robin fixes her gaze onto the screen.

Miranda’s pants are already gone. She’s lying on the bed, handcuffed, her chest and cheeks flushed. One of the girls is straddling her waist and groping her tits underneath her bra, two are kissing and biting her neck, ears and jaw, two are stroking her long legs and slapping her thighs. Miranda is breathing heavily. Her eyes are hazy and dark, her lips parted. The girl straddling her pulls off her bra, ripping it apart and exposing her small, perky tits. Miranda gasps. One of the girls kissing her neck takes her tit into her mouth and bites her nipple, making her cry out. “Fuck,” Miranda breathes out.

“That’s what we’re gonna do to you,” one of the girls says. “Fuck you until you can’t fucking walk, bitch.” The one straddling her starts slapping her tits, the other slaps her cheek, and one of them yanks her panties down. The camera zooms in on Miranda’s pink, dripping cunt.

Robin lets out a breathy moan — both because of the visual on the screen, and because of Miranda lightly biting the inside of her thigh. She is gentle, reverent — kissing and licking Robin’s thighs, running her thumbs along where Robin’s thighs meet her vulva. Robin is squirming and breathing hard, and she’s surprised how much she’s affected by Miranda’s teasing.

Finally, Miranda gives Robin’s pussy a hot, long lick — Robin shivers and moans. Miranda’s tongue is warm and wet against her pussy, and she wants more. She grabs her head, tangles her fingers into Miranda’s soft, blonde hair and pulls her closer. Miranda grins into her cunt and starts giving her pussy long, fervent licks.

One of the girls is fastening a strap around her hips. She hovers over Miranda’s face, lowering her pussy down to Miranda’s mouth, the strap grazing Miranda’s forehead. “Eat my pussy, pretty cop,” she says, and starts riding Miranda’s face. The strap bounces up and down and hits Miranda’s face as the girl grinds her hips and Miranda licks her cunt with fervour — you can tell she’s really into it. One girl is slapping her tits, and the other produces another strap, lubes it up and shoves it into Miranda’s cunt. Miranda’s stomach muscles contract as the girl stretches her out and then starts fucking her at a relentless pace. She’s whimpering and moaning, her face covered in drool and the other girl’s arousal. “Such a tight pussy. Does it hurt, pretty cop?” the girl fucking her mocks her and Miranda can only whimper. Miranda’s pussy eating is sloppy. She licks and sucks and smears her own drool and Robin’s wetness around with her tongue. She shoves her tongue inside of her, sucks on her pussy lips, licks her clit.

Robin loves it.

She’s never felt so worshipped and adored. In the past, when people ate her out, they usually just wanted to be done with it. Miranda is the complete opposite — perhaps she’s sloppy, but she eats her like she’s devouring her favourite meal. She’s taking her time, really getting in there, and she looks like she’s enjoying herself a lot. She’s humming and whimpering along with Robin. The room is filled with sounds from the video mixed with their own, real-time moans, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “Fuck,” Robin gasps as Miranda finds a really good spot. “Do that again, fuck!”

Miranda is really good at following directions — and she really wants to please. She repeats the movement that made Robin cry out many times, and Robin’s thighs start trembling. “Fuck, Miranda,” she pants, and saying her name only spurs Miranda on, and she slips one finger into her dripping cunt and starts slowly fucking her. Robin keens. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

The girls throw Miranda on the floor, making her kneel on all fours. Her wrists are still handcuffed. One of the girls spits in her mouth. “Suck my cock, slut,” she then says and shoves her strap into Miranda’s mouth. Miranda looks so hot sucking it — the camera zooms in on her face, on her wide and pretty blue eyes as she looks up at the girl fucking her face. The girl grabs her hair and shoves the strap deeper. Miranda’s eyes tear up as she gags, but she never stops sucking, bobbing her back and forth. “What a good slut you are,” the girl says. Miranda whimpers as two girls start spanking her ass, and the other starts fucking her asshole with a dildo. The girl fucking her mouth pulls the strap out. “You love it. Say you love it.”

“No,” Miranda says, and Robin can tell it’s the script she must follow, because her eyes say yes and she cranes her neck to take the strap into her mouth again. “Fucking liar. I know you love it, slut,” the girl says and grabs her hair, starts fucking her mouth faster than before. Tears stream down Miranda’s cheeks and she moans in pleasure as her mouth and ass are fucked relentlessly and her ass is spanked until it becomes bright red.

Miranda slips another finger inside Robin, and Robin moans loudly. Miranda starts fucking her harder and licking her clit faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” Robin whimpers, pulling Miranda closer. Miranda moans as Robin pulls on her hair, and Robin starts rocking her hips against Miranda’s mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Miranda keens as she rides a girl’s strap, while another girl fucks her from behind. Her face and chest are red, there are beads of sweat on her back and forehead, her hair is ruffled, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed with pleasure. Another girl kneels in front of her and shoves her strap in Miranda’s mouth again, muffling her cries of pleasure. The other two girls are pleasuring themselves, watching Miranda get fucked in every hole. The girl underneath her gropes her tits and the one behind her slaps her ass as they fuck her.

The girl fucking her mouth pulls on her hair. “That’s it, you’re gonna come from this like a dirty slut,” she says and pulls the strap out of her mouth, and Miranda screams as pleasure overwhelms her. The girls don’t stop fucking her, and she keeps moaning and screaming and rocking her hips. “Fuckyes,” she cries as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

“Ah, Miranda,” Robin cries, “don’t stop — ah, fuck!” She feels herself clenching around Miranda’s fingers. She grinds on Miranda’s face, and Miranda hums and moans into her pussy, fucks her hard and fast until the tight coil in Robin’s belly snaps and she comes — hard.

“Shit — fuck!” she cries. Miranda continues to fuck her and doesn’t stop licking her clit. Robin feels the tension build again, and before she knows it a second orgasm washes over her like a wave. She keens and clenches her thighs around Miranda’s head, trying to push her away from her sensitive clit. Miranda slowly pulls her fingers out of her and continues to gently lick her through the aftershocks. Robin’s thighs tremble. “Fuck,” she says breathlessly, her muscles convulsing as Miranda gives her aching clit a small kitten lick.

When Robin looks at the TV again, the screen is black.

She glances down at Miranda kneeling in between her legs. Miranda smiles and wipes her mouth on her forearm. She gives Robin that pretty, wide eyed look that Robin can’t admit she loves.

“Do you have a strap?” Robin asks.

“Yeah. Want me to fuck you with the strap?” Miranda asks, still a bit out of breath, climbing back up on the couch.

“No. I want to fuck you with it and make you moan like you did in the porno.”

Miranda’s face lights up. She smiles at Robin, grabs her arm and leads her towards the bedroom.

Miranda comes three times that night. After making her admit she came five times on the set, Robin makes a pact with herself to reach that number next time — but right now, she’s very, very sleepy.

As they lie next to each other on the bed, Miranda tentatively reaches for Robin’s hand. Robin doesn’t pull away. They stay like that for a bit, and then Robin rolls over and wraps her arm around Miranda’s waist. She can tell Miranda loves it.

“So, what are we now?” Miranda asks as she rubs little circles on her back.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks into Miranda’s chest, knowing very well what she means.

“I mean, are we an item?”

Robin waits a moment before she responds.

“Not yet,” she says. “But… we could be.”

With her face buried in Miranda’s torso, she can’t see her smile.

Big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta-reading. <3

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#kink!week #7 days of kink #miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x robin griffin #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it

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