#might have been rant -ed about before

[altruistic-meme]

............ i want to come out.

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 — uniform

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: ex-cheerleader!reader. handjob. penetrative sex. semi-public sex.

It was always the skirts that did it for him.

Not the ponytails, not the sparkly pom poms, not even the acrobatics. It was the small skirts that had his eyes wandering, following long legs and pretty thighs along the hallways of his former high school. His friends used to make fun of him, tell him how stupid he looked pining over the cheerleaders who would never even look his way.

Eddie used to tell them he wasn't pining, he was merely just… looking, for lack of a better word. He wasn't thinking about them, the little skirts in green and yellow swishing around soft looking thighs, when he was alone later, under the shower. Of course not.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he saw you — his favorite customer, wearing a red, white and black cheerleader uniform. You were in the corner of the room, chatting with your local college friends, sipping on a plastic cup. Hair in a high ponytail tied with a neat red bow, as red as the fake blood sprinkled on your body.

He might have choked a little on his beer, but he didn't pay much attention to it, concentrating it all on you. Not until Jeff elbows him on the ribs, scoffing at his friend. "Man, you're gonna catch flies with that mouth hanging open."

"Shut up." Eddie grumbled, looking away from you and back at his friends. "Do you think she saw?"

"You're not exactly subtle, Ed." Gareth points out. The younger boy turned to your group of friends and waved, and as Eddie did the same, he noticed you waving back.

Burying the urge to smother Gareth in his sleep, he managed a rather strained smile, and a three finger wave in your direction. He saw you hide your giggle behind your hand, and all of his worries faded away for a second. It must have been your pretty smile, barely concealed by a delicate hand, or the mixture of glitter and fake blood on your skin, making you glint in the dark. Either way, he decided that he didn't want to look away, not really.

As his friends engaged back in conversation with each other, and your friends remained entertained with whatever was the subject between them, your eyes met yet again. You gave him a discreet nod of your head, pointing to the glass doors that led to the backyard of the house. Eddie nodded back, and waited for you to go first before following you closely.

Eddie had met you when he decided to expand his side business after he graduated. No longer wanting to associate with the high school kids, no matter how well some of them would pay him with their daddy's money, he went for the college students next. Lingering around their parties, taking a stroll through the campus with his ever trusty lunchbox on days off of work.

It was on one of these strolls that he met you — clumsily sitting in front of him at a picnic table that resembled his old selling spot, dropping your bag on the table and asking him for a rolled joint because you were terrible at rolling, and you'd even pay extra if needed.

He decided that, from that moment on, you wouldn't have to roll your own joints ever again.

There was just something about you, something that Eddie couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was how comfortable you made him feel, how easy the conversation flowed between you. How you would always rant about your day or infodump on the latest subject that caught your interest in class, or the last book you were reading. It was like you didn't mind that Eddie was virtually a stranger, you just accepted him in your life with open arms, and he did the same.

You started walking a thin line between merely a business relationship, and an actual friendship. Eddie started never letting you pay, telling you that your company was more than enough reward. After that, you came up with more creative ways to thank him. A mixtape, freshly baked sprinkle cookies, a new bracelet, black nail polish.

He wondered if he asked for a kiss as payment you'd give it to him.

Through the small crowd in the living room to the small back porch, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over your form from behind. The way your skirt moved side to side when you walked, in perfect sync with your hips. The back of your legs, the curve of your neck. It made his heart race, and his hands ache to touch.

Finally, you both passed through the doors, — you first, Eddie making sure to slide the door behind him close — breathing in the cool night air. The outside of the house was empty except for the two of you, and the neighbor's cat waltzing around the top of the fence.

"Got the good stuff, Munson?"

You were smiling as you sat down on an old, beat down couch to the left of the porch. He tried not to make it obvious he was staring at the way your thighs spread out as you sat, looking good enough to bite into. Instead, he looked down and fished out the smokes carton from the pocket of his leather jacket, and smirked right back at you.

"For you? Always."

That night, neither of you spoke much as you shared a spliff between the two of you. The silence was not awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. It was just the two of you and the chill October air, and the shitty music that came from the inside of the party.

While he took the last drag, you scooted closer to him, bringing your arm to the back of the couch. "I noticed you looking, you know."

Holding his breath, he asked, "What?"

"At me, silly. I noticed you looking at me the whole night."

Your voice was pure honey, but there was a malice in your eyes Eddie had never seen before. Swallowing hard, he shifted on his seat, incidentally closing the distance between you. "It's just that, uh… You look really pretty tonight. Not that you don't look pretty any other day," he panics, disgusting it with a flare of his hands, "but you look especially beautiful tonight."

"It's the outfit, isn't it? Never would have thought you had a thing for cheerleaders, Eds. Would have told you I used to be one way sooner if I'd known."

"This was yours?" His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his head.

"Yeah. All the way through high school. It was fun while it lasted."

He hummed, but on the inside, Eddie wanted to scream. "Whoa, sweetheart. Gotta show me your moves one of these days."

"I could show you a few right now."

You got impossibly closer, your face inches from his own. Instead of kissing him like he expected you to do, you took one of his hands and placed it on your waist, not breaking eye contact with him. "You can touch me if you want to, Eddie. It's okay, I want you to."

He sat up straighter, grabbing your waist earnestly now. "Can I kiss you, baby?"

With your nod as confirmation, he did. He kissed you long and deep, stealing the breath away from both of you. He tastes you on his tongue, smoke and cheap vodka lingering there, as you straddled his hips, pretty pleated skirt flaring around your hips.

Hands wandering over layers, mouths wandering over skin. Eddie kissed every spot he could find, from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting bruises that knew would still be there in the morning. He squeezed your boobs through your tight top, massaging them in his rough hands, making you moan in his mouth. He drank each strangled moan, each sigh, fueling his want for you.

Your hands soon found the buckle of his belt, expertly opening it, and palming him through his boxers. He could almost feel embarrassed over how hard he already was, but he could sense that you were equally as eager, applying pressure on his cock, running your nails through the length of it just to feel him shiver under your ministrations.

You didn't break the kiss as you pulled him out of his underwear, stroking him slowly, pumping his cock with your hand, running your thumb over the head of it, slicking him with his own precum. Eddie bit your bottom lip to stay quiet, making you look at him through hooded eyes. "Feeling good, handsome?"

"Too good. Too fucking good to be true."

You chuckled, low and sexy. "It is true. It's all for you."

As you kept stroking and squeezing him in your hand, moving your thumb from the sensitive underside to the head, and down again, making his hips jerked and thrusted into your grip, he kept kissing you, pouring all of his adoration into it, sucking on your tongue, bruising your lips with his own.

A chill ran down his spine with a particular tug of your hand on his cock. At the feeling of it, Eddie put a hand on your wrist, stopping you. "Angel, I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing this."

"But I wanna make you cum, Eds." You pouted, looking down at him.

"You can make me cum inside of this perfect pussy, how about that?"

"I think I like that more, too."

Without warning, you pulled yourself up, standing in front of him. As if you were putting on a show, you bent down at the waist, and slowly removed your panties from under your skirt, tossing on the couch right next to him, and mounted him again. "You're gonna kill me, aren't you? Was that your plan all along?"

"I don't know. Is it working?"

This time, he grabbed your hips and helped you align yourself above his cock, rubbing his head along your entrance and letting it catch on your clit a couple of times before you sat yourself on him, taking him in slowly, accommodating the stretch inside of you.

It was heaven, right there, under that tiny cheerleader skirt.

"Trust me. It's working really damn well."

You lost yourselves in that moment, moving your hips in sync. Eddie was hypnotized by the way you bounced on him, each slide of your slick, warm pussy went straight through his whole body, making him hold tightly onto you, wrapping his arms around you.

All he could hear was your heavy breathing, your little whimpers better than the music that muffled his own stubborn moans that made their way out of his gaping mouth. He felt you squeeze him with your cunt as you pulled his hair, hips growing more and more reckless with each movement, signaling that you were close.

Eddie started to fuck up into you, making you bounce harder on his lap. He felt the way you lost balance, holding onto his shoulders and shutting your eyes hard.

"It's okay, pretty girl. You can let go. I'm right here with you, you can cum for me." He pleaded, "Please? Cum with me."

You came almost at the same time, squeezing each other's bodies, trying hard not to make too much noise. While you rode out your orgasms, Eddie left kisses all over your shoulder, to your neck, to the side of your face. A last kiss on your cheek, on the side where you were hiding your face on his neck.

"We should get out of here before someone catches us."

Your voice tickled the sensitive skin of his neck, and he ran his hand over your back. You were still joined under your skirt, his cock growing soft inside of you, but still terribly warm. "Your place or mine?"

You raised your face from its hiding place, and pushed a strand of his wild hair behind his ear. "Wherever we don't have to keep quiet like this."

"My place it is."

[queenie-ofthe-void]

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.

Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 

Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 

“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”

And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.

Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 

“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.

The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 

Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.

“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”

Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 

“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.

"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”

He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  

“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 

“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

All of my love, all of my love, to you now

“A love song just for you, from both of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.

[juletheghoul]

distraction

a/n: I'm as shocked as you probably are with posting a full chapter today, along with a pretty extensive ask on Friday but here we are. I don't know why this character has inspired such devotion and creativity in me but I am not going to question it. This might be the most toxic chapter yet lol and If you aren't into it. no hard feelings! This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a light in a pretty rough week, and for listening to all of my rants and tangents. Love you girlie! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, gladiatorial violence, exhibitionism, Marcus being a possessive, jealous mess, creampie, heavily leaning into the ownership aspect of their 'relationship', master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.7k

reblogs are appreciated

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The sun rose, much like it did on every other day, and you rose with it. 

With a yawn and a stretch you dressed, cursing at the way your tunic tattered at the seams. You’d have to mend it later, you made a mental note to remember as you rushed to start on your chores for the day. 

You found him splashing water from the jug and basin in his room, and moved quickly and quietly to help him dress for the day ahead. Silently he moved throughout the room, letting you adjust his clothes so they looked their best, he let you push his hair into place and to take the basin to be emptied while he made his way to his study. The sun was still high in the sky when the messenger came for him, bringing him the invitation from the Emperor himself to oversee the gladiatorial games in honour of his victory. His brow furrowed at the news, he would be in the pulvinus with the Emperor along with other Romans of proper birth. 

He didn’t take the news well, to him it was a folly. He had absolutely no wish to be celebrated, as far as he was concerned, his march into the city had been more than enough but he could not deny the invitation. So with a clench in his jaw and a number of frustrated sighs, he accepted, and set about making the preparations. 

The day of the games came and as his constant shadow, you followed to see to his needs and to pour for him. It was difficult to keep the excitement in check, every so often you’d glance down to your new tunic, bright white with details of gold to match your Dominus. Despite your many years of service, none of the people you’d served before had ever brought you to the arena, let alone in the presence of the Emperor, or in such a high seat as the pulvinus. Your march through the city towards the Colosseum was filled with cheers and the screams of people clamoring to see the General of the Roman army up close. 

He did his duty, waved and smiled for their benefit despite his great discomfort, and you did your duty as well–kept your head down, and your attention on him. 

The pulvinus was blessedly covered by rich fabrics, shielding the esteemed guests and slaves alike from the unforgiving rays of the sun. With his cup full, and his attention with the Emperor, you used the moment of reprieve to take in the sights. The opening games had come and gone and now the main event was to start. The gladiators filed out and took their place, awaiting the words that would set them on their path of violence. 

They were a mixed batch of fighters, all of them fearsome in their own way. There was a small, stocky one, his face was all anger and his arms were covered in scars. There was one that towered over them all, his arms and legs long enough to keep anyone from getting too close. There were twins, both of them smiling for the crowd, clearly favoured from the cheers they inspired. There was another, and he was the one that drew your eye. His hair was black as coal with eyes to match and although on the leaner side, the strength in his limbs was obvious. His sword hand flexed at the hilt and you watched him twirl the weapon, test its weight before he looked up to the pulvinus, in truth he reminded you of your Dominus; twenty years younger. 

He smiled up in your direction and your stomach twisted, for a moment you imagined your Dominus down in the sand, fighting for the crowd and it thrilled you. You imagined meeting him as a younger man, what he might have been like, what might he think of you?

“Girl.” His voice cut through your musing, his cup outstretched and you stumbled for only a heartbeat, imperceptible to anyone but him. His eyes tracked what had distracted you, and found the young Gladiator smiling still, and said nothing. His mood soured though and at once you chastised yourself for letting the arena distract you.  

Marcus introduced the main games, the Primus, and he did so without flair, without embellishment but it mattered not, the people screamed and the men before you fought for their lives against a myriad of challengers. You kept your eye on your Dominus, on his cup but the young gladiator –Varus– kept drawing your attention, he looked so like your General that you idly wondered if he could be his son, could he have fathered him during his younger years? It was known to happen, did he see the resemblance? Did anyone?

Varus is relentless, and despite making sure your Dominus’ needs are met your eyes track him, enraptured. It is difficult to be sure who it is he smiles at when he glances up in your direction, it is most likely the high-born Roman women. His skill is undeniable, and again your thoughts drift to a younger, wilder Marcus, would your general have given you those smiles so brazenly at that age?

“He does like to put on a show does he not?” One of the high born ladies remarks and you cannot help but watch as Varus laughs, cutting down those who challenge him with ease, even as some of his brothers fall. “Look how he smiles, he is of a form today.” They giggle between themselves as he points his sword in tribute towards them, or you, or the Emperor, it is hard to tell. 

“He definitely draws the eye.” Marcus speaks, agreeing with them, but you hear his displeasure and when you meet his eyes they are already focused on you. Your stomach drops at the look of displeasure on his face, your momentary lapse had not been taken lightly. Heat and embarrassment fill you to the brim and from then on your eyes find themselves downcast. “More wine, girl.” His tone is colder than you’ve ever heard it, enough to set your nerves alight. 

“Yes Dominus.” Your tone, in turn, is demure and humble and you pray to the Gods that you get through the games without embarrassing him further.

Varus and the twins stand victorious, and the crowd loves them for it, enough to shake the ground with their cheers but you keep your head down. With your error, you expected Marcus to excuse himself and make his way home once the games were over but it wasn’t to be. The Emperor had arranged for his guests to exchange words with the victors, and so down into the sand you went, following where your Dominus went on shaky legs. 

Up close, Varus was taller than your General, but not by much. He was strong, and lean, and covered in blood and gore, it did nothing to take away from his allure. It didn’t seem to bother him, if anything, it only made him more appealing. The resemblance was there, not as close as you’d imagined but there was something there, in the profile, in the gaze, he was a handsome man, but no one held a candle to Marcus in your eyes. 

The Emperor bestowed words of congratulations, and they bowed dutifully. Varus smiled, boldly, unbothered by the ire of your Dominus, his eyes wandered and when they found you they raked over your form unabashedly. He drank in the sight of your thighs through the slit in your tunic, in the curve of your neck and although you had no real interest in this man, you couldn’t help but fidget. 

Your Dominus clenched his jaw, but offered his good will all the same, albeit in a curt manner and once the pleasantries were exchanged, you were blessedly away from the arena, and off towards the villa once more. He’s eerily quiet on the trek back home, even for him and although he’s usually quite forgiving despite his gruff exterior, you pray to the Gods that you haven’t offended him past the point of return. His horse whinnies underneath him while you and his personal guard follow behind, and all at once he is off his horse and handing off the reins. 

“Come girl, I have business here.” He barely looks at you, but you rush to follow where he leads, down a quiet street away from the chaos of the day. You have to take two steps for every one of his in order to stay close. You take it as a good sign, that he calls on you to attend to him after the business in the pulvinus, and you steel yourself to serve to the best of your ability in whatever possible way he may need. He winds through different alleys and it takes a moment for you to wonder idly just where exactly he needs to go before you find yourself pressed up against the wall. 

“Have you grown tired of your Dominus?” His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you up against the wall. Not tight enough to cut off your breath, but tight enough to make you stand on the tips of your toes. His eyes were cold as frost, but there was passion laced through his words as well as rage. 

“No Dominus–”

“Do. Not. Lie.” His grip tightened for only a second, “Do you think me blind, girl? I saw the way you watched Varus.” The gladiator's name was a curse and for a moment you frowned at him, was this jealousy?

“Dominus, I could never, I was merely distracted–” You brought your hands up, trying vainly to soothe him with gentle touch but the anger burned hot within him, and he stepped closer, kicking your legs apart to press his knee between them. 

“Yes, distracted by him, he caught your eye. Do you desire him?” You felt your heart racing, thumping against his palm at your throat, “Tell me girl, have you forgotten that you belong to me? Do you wish to belong to another?”

“No Dominus! Only you, I–I could not help but notice Varus–” His jaw clenched at the sound of the other man's name upon your tongue. “Because, because he resembled you, Dominus.”

His anger faltered for a moment, but the frown remained, and so you continued. 

“He looked so like you Dominus, and I couldn’t help but imagine you at that age, fighting and smiling at me. I do not desire anyone else, I do not wish to belong to anyone else.” You brought your hands up, tentatively placing one upon his at your throat, and the other on his chest. 

“Did that excite you? Do you wish me to be younger?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes then, obscured by anger but shining through all the same and had he been anyone else, you might have laughed at the absurdity of his complex. 

“It only excited me, to imagine you smiling at me, fighting for me Dominus. I do not wish you to be any other way.” Your hands moved in tandem, one stroking at his arm softly, the other sliding down his chest, towards where his passion grew and pressed against your hip. “Look into my eyes and see the truth in my words, I belong to you, mind, body and soul, only you.” His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Can you not see how much I desire you? How my heart beats only to the tune of your pleasure?” He isn’t unaffected by your words, you see him drink them down like a fine wine, and he sighs heavily at the feel of your palm on his manhood. “Take me, here and now Dominus, my want for you drips onto my thighs.” 

His eyes close and a heavy breath escapes his lips and you see your chance, you see the tiny fracture in his armor. “May I have your mouth Dominus?” You pulled him closer, while guiding his free hand to the Elysian fields between your legs. His fingers slipped under your coverings and found you wet and wanting and all at once his violence is coloured with passion instead of anger. 

“You will never belong to another, do you understand me girl?” Frantically he pulls at your tunic, moving it up, and pulling the neck down to bare your breasts to him, uncaring of the people who happen by. 

“You are mine, all of you, is mine.” His mouth pressed to yours roughly, stealing the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fumbled at his robes, joining in his madness and releasing his cock. He doesn’t let you touch it however, instead he turns you around and pulls your hips out. You hear him spit into his hand before lining himself up at the mouth of your sex, barely giving you a moment before burying himself to the hilt. 

You can’t help but moan and hold onto his arms, the grit of the wall pressed up against your face. His hand wrapped around your throat once more, holding you still while his hips drove forward, filling you over and over without respite, his other hand found your breast and held it tight, fanning the flames of your arousal for him. 

“This cunt—“ his mouth pressed against your ear, breathing harshly with the force of his exertion, “is mine, mine alone.” The moan clawed its way out from your throat, that he would be this affected by a simple glance should have scared you, but it didn’t. It only made your arousal flow like seawater.

Your cunt was the altar of his devotion, and his prayers were violent.

“Yes Dominus, yours alone.” You pushed back, turning your face as best you could to look him in the eye and his expression pulled another sound from your throat. He was enraptured, eyes blown black and mouth slack as his hips drilled, bouncing against the plump flesh of your backside. “I want to look at you Dominus, I want your mouth–” He groaned, pulling out quickly to turn you back around and within a breath he had one of your legs wrapped around his hip, his hand holding it at the knee, and his cock buried deep. His other hand held you firm by the throat. 

“Tell me girl, tell me you’re mine, only mine.” There was a desperation in his voice that pulled at something within you, something tender despite his brusque movements. 

“I’m yours Dominus, I belong to you–” You threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him close to you, your grip tight and he moaned, unabashedly, “I only ever want to be yours.”

His eyes close before his lips have found yours, and you feel the way his pace stutters, he is close and all at once you need to feel him spill inside, his need to stake his claim burning you up like a fever. You move one hand down to your sex, to the swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, and with the other, you hold his hand to your throat. 

“Please Dominus, please fill me with your gift.” You moan the words out, and smile at the way he grinds himself deep with a low groan. The coil in your belly snaps as you feel him spill inside, and your flutters make him hiss, his mouth surging forward to claim yours hard enough to hurt but it matters not. Your heart and cunt are full with him just as it should be. 

His breath comes in pants as he removes his hand from your neck, and your breath hitches when he brushes his lips against your skin in silent apology. You know the moment will pass, and that soon, his mood will change and this interlude will end, as all interludes must but you seize the moment anyway, and pull his face up to meet his eyes. 

“I speak truth Dominus, my heart fills with joy to be yours.” Softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close, for a moment you are worried that as his blood cools, so does his passion for you but he proves you wrong, and lets you kiss him. More than that, he keeps kissing you as he set your robes to right with gentle hands before pulling out with a hiss. He does not respond, there is no need to, his eyes speak for him. 

Within a few heartbeats, the look is gone and his usual mask is back in place. 

“Come girl, let us away.”

“Yes Dominus.” 

—

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[eunoiaflow3r]

silent treatment - ron weasley x reader

requests open

taglist

warning(s): language, teasing, smut mentions

word count: 1.5k

request(ed): Can you please do a fic where ron gets really sad because hermione dared the reader to ignore ron for a whole day ?

summary: okay so pretty much the request except a little more scandalous 👀 characters are like 17+ (no war)

—————————————————————

Girls night meant pajamas and tonssss of snacks that Fred and George curated. This was a bimonthly tradition that you and the girls came up with to relieve stress and keep some spontaneity in your lives.

You, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny all sat on the ground criss-crossed apple sauce gossiping and chewing on taffy. Then, Ginny suggested truth or dare. You were actually a fan of this game, as you were pretty much up to do anything and you were also inherently honest.

You went a few rounds, confessed a few kisses until Hermione had a dare for you that had her giggling into her hands. “I dare you,” she giggles some more, “to ignore Ronald for an entire day - no exceptions.” You weren’t sure how to react, but you weren’t going to back down either.

“Okay.” you smiled. You could do this. Wouldn’t be that hard, all you have to is avoid him tomorrow and it would be alright.

However, you and Ron have been dating for a few months now and you knew he wasn’t the type to take this lightly. His feelings would definitely be hurt and you hate the thought of hurting him.

The next day you saw Ron at breakfast and usually you would sit next to him, but to make it easier on yourself you sat in between Harry and Hermione with Ron on the other side of Harry. He had said good morning but you pretended you didn’t hear him by stuffing your face and talking to Hermione. Harry didn’t notice a thing but Hermione knew what you were doing.

After breakfast Ron came up to you and put his arm across your shoulders. He kissed your cheek and asked how you slept the night before. It killed you not to hug him back or say anything but you just stared at the ground.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

Still, you stared at the ground and clutched your books tighter to your chest. His voice made you swoon and you wanted to talk to him but you saw Hermione from the corner of your eye grinning and shaking her head.

You walked on and in to class without even looking at Ron again. Luckily, you wouldn’t see him again until Herbology which wasn’t until later in the day.

———

“She wouldn’t even look at me Harry I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Harry was busy mixing his potion while Ron ranted to him about your behavior this morning. He remembered talking to you at breakfast but he didn’t notice that you were specifically not speaking to Ron.

“She’s probably just tired mate you probably didn’t do anything. Maybe she needs space?”

“Space!?” he almost shouted but looked around the room and lowered his voice. “She had plenty of space this morning when she was chatting Hermione’s ear off.”

For the next 10 minutes Harry listened to Ron go over all the reasons (however ridiculous) that you might not be talking to him. Then it hit him…

“Ron, where was Y/N last night?”

“Uhm, with the girls. Their little sleepovers ya’know that they insist on doing.”

“Right….so….what if her behavior is related to that? Like a dare or something?”

Ron thought about it and it made sense. But what was he supposed to do about it? A dare is a dare…unless he made it impossible for you to fulfill it…

———

The day had gone by pretty smoothly - you ate lunch outside and now it was your last class. Except it was Herbology and Ron would be there. You used Luna mostly to avoid him but you could feel his stare across the way. You were outside today and distracted yourself with planting some flowers that the Professor had asked you to.

Sooner or later Ron came over - no gloves in hand or any indication that he came to help.

“Hey babe.” he says.

You kept digging and avoided eye contact.

“I missed you last night,” he begins. He had a teasing tone and you wondered where he was going with this.. “I was in bed, alone, thinking of that time we went to the lake? Do you remember?”

Oh you remembered.

It was night time, a few months ago during the summer and Ron wanted to sneak out and go skinny dipping. You were hesitant at first but Ron was convincing. Once you got in the water it wasn’t actually that bad and pretty warm…Ron had grabbed you by the waist and began kissing you and you forgot why you were so worried in the first place.

You snapped back to reality and tried to hide your warmed cheeks.

“One of our best times, don’t you think? Could barely keep you quiet that night…”

You stood up and turned so that your back was completely facing him. There was no way you could face him and not speak now.

His hand found your hip and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was all alone thinking about you…missing you…wanting to feel you…and now you won’t even talk to me. Not a look, or a gesture…wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

You could feel him smile against your skin and kissed your cheek before walking away back towards the school, leaving you alone with your now dirty thoughts. He was making this so hard for you. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to explain..but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t lose the game.

———

A few hours later you decided the library would be the best place for you to be. Ron was hardly ever there and you could do some homework while killing the hours until when you could talk to Ron again. You got through a few assignments until you heard whispers a few rows away.

——-

“I tried talking to her but I must’ve really fudged up this time Harry.”

Ron had convinced Harry to come to the library with him so he could mess with you. He and Harry curated a fake conversation so that you would feel bad about your dare and hopefully cave in. Ron’s only regret was that he couldn’t see your face in this moment.

“Try talking to her again, I’m sure what you did couldn’t have been that bad.”

“What if she never speaks to me again Harry? What will I do?”

———

Your heart hurt. You hated hearing Ron sounding so upset. Was this prank really worth it if your boyfriend ends up pained because of it? When you agreed to it it really didn’t seem that bad or dramatic…but now that you’re hours into it you don’t know if you can continue.

Whatever. It’ll be fine, you just have to finish your homework…

10 minutes later you see your boyfriend come over and sit next to you.

“Baby, what’re you doing?”

You continue to do your homework and not look at him. He scoots his chair closer to yours and puts his hand on your thigh and slowly moves it up. Hermione said you couldn’t speak to him…she didn’t say you had to stop him from speaking to you…

He moves your hair away from your neck and kisses you behind your ear and moves down your neck til he gets to your collarbone. You resist the urge to moan and say anything to him. You wanted to talk to your boyfriend and you wanted to tell him he did nothing wrong…and now he was leaving a hickey on your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hermione walk into the library and you gently pushed Ron off and covered your neck so she wouldn’t think you guys were talking. She came over and grinned at the way Ron was pouting right now.

“How’s it going you two? Anything new?”

“New as in my girlfriend won’t speak to me?” Ron asks. “Yeah that’s pretty new.”

“Hermione do you have an extra quill?” You ask.

“Of course I do.”

Luna and Harry make their way over as Hermione hands you the quill.

“Oh is the dare over then?” Luna asks.

Your eyes widened. Luna must’ve assumed since the three of you were together that we must have talked it out….

“Luna!” Hermione whisper shouts.

“Oops….”

You look at Ron and you could feel your face heat up. What would his reaction be? Would he be mad? Sad? Disappointed?

He didn’t say anything. All he did was look at Harry and the both of them started laughing. This made you look at Hermione confused.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“We knew it was a dare, love. How stupid do you think we are?” Ron laughs hugging you close. “I’ll admit it stung at first but then I put the pieces together.”

“After I helped.” Harry rolled his eyes.

You turn to whisper in Ron’s ear. “So all that teasing today?”

“On purpose.” He grinned. “What you thought I wouldn’t get you back? You know who my brothers are…”

————————————————————————————

The End!! Lollll. Hope you enjoyed🤍

[carrymelikeimcute]

Going over the izzy/lucius/shark exchange is so interesting in the context of this being an episode about apologies. About making concessions and trying to fix things.

(In this ep there's a lot about ed making amends/accommodating the crew's triggers and trauma. It's also about stede having to fix things when he upsets the superstitious crew by not treating their feelings as valid.)

At the start we have Ed's (probably well intentioned) but evasive, non-apology. He does an 'I'm sorry you feel that way' sort of apology about 'whatever that bad stuff was'. It's a wish to do better, but it doesn't really cover what went before. A lot of people interject here, but Izzy remains completely still and silent, off to one side.

Lucius says he never used the word 'sorry' and rightly calls this out. Roach however, says he's never heard an apology before - and liked it - so this seems like as much as it's a first for Ed to take even some accountability, it's probably the first time some of the crew have seen a captain (or anyone else) do this too.

Archie says 'They just get away with it and we move on'.

Lucius rounds on Izzy, because obviously Izzy should have the biggest grievance here. But Izzy responds to the question about Ed's apology as if it was about piracy in general - clearly showing that the cycle of abuse is a feature, not a bug. This is part of his life and identity as a pirate. This is, actually, things going back to normal. You get whipped (and we see these scars on him later) no one apologises, and you just reset to how it was before, pretending nothing has been altered until it all bubbles over again.

Ed then tells stede that he's never apologised for anything. Confirming that most of the crew's responses are in line with their past experiences.

Then Ed goes to fix the door and tells it that it's not its fault that it's broken, it was just doing it's job. This directly parallels Izzy's rant to the figurehead about it failing to do it's job. Ed could be talking about himself here, as Izzy was talking about himself - but to me it doesn't fit that well, because what 'job' was Ed trying to do? He could instead be acknowledging, indirectly, that he is aware that Izzy was doing his job - trying to make sure they all survived and functioned as a crew. Ed probably broke that door, and he broke Izzy. But he has yet to talk to him about it.

Immediately following this, is when he scares the BEJESUS out of Lucius and tells him 'it would be faster to get all this out in one go'. It sounds like a reasonable suggestion, but we know that it doesn't actually work. Lucius pushes him off the boat and it doesn't help. Because 'I hurt you, so now you hurt me' doesn't benefit the abused, it's still about making the abuser feel better - making them feel punished and therefore redeemed, even when their victim isn't healed. I don't think Ed is trying to manipulate Lucius here - both of them think it might help to 'fix things' but fixing things takes emotional intelligence that's not really developed yet.

ENTER, THE SHARK

Izzy starts working on the shark, after the non-apology. He doesn't have it in the 'candle fighting' scene obvs - but he does receive an apology in that scene, when stede says 'feet' and then corrects himself to foot. It's a simple straightforward apology, even if he does sort of laugh awkwardly. Izzy also at least attempted to apologise to Stede in ep. 3 - so he clearly sees the use in apologies - AND right after the apology, Izzy agrees to help stede. Their relationship changes. It gets better and they're no longer stuck in those old patterns. Izzy is full-on gentle parenting stede - even when he shoots down a fucking sail.

He also, notably, states that the crew's feelings on the curse are important. Meaning, how the crew feels is important to him, period.

After this, we're back to Lucius throwing Ed overboard. But it doesn't work because Ed doesn't remember the talent show thing, he doesn't really know why Lucius was so blindsided by that betrayal of trust. It's not about who goes overboard. It's about the dynamics underneath that and those can't be fixed by just trading places for a moment.

FINALLY. We see Izzy finishing the shark, and he's completely unsurprised that Lucius pushing Ed into the water didn't fix things. Izzy's done this 'tit for tat' thing - betraying Ed to the English over being banished - and it ended terribly for both of them. It escalated things. He knows it's not as simply as getting even with someone.

The solution Izzy has chosen to the cycle of his relationship with Ed is to pretend that Ed hasn't done anything to him. A shark did it. Like with the non-apology, blame is being shifted to a third party 'the bad things' the 'bad times'. Lucius (rightly) points out that this is not healthy, but Izzy's response, that's better than not moving on, clearly resonates.

Izzy's response to being hurt was to 1. Get even and 2. (when that proved deeply unsatisfying and made things worse) to put the unresolved conflict behind him. Because he doesn't think Ed is ever going to apologise or change, and wanting those things just hurt more.

Anyone who has parents/a partner/friend who's NEVER apologised for anything, knows how he's feeling. You stop trying to have it out and fix the relationship, and it starts to wither, even though the other person thinks it's healthy.

'Not moving on is worse' is a warning, and it's one that Lucius takes to heart, immediately trying to centre positive things instead of resentment and anger. He shares his feelings with Pete, and their relationship thrives.

The issue here, is that denial doesn't work. Lucius might be able to move on from what happened to him without a proper apology from Ed, but that's because he's not in a relationship with him. Izzy's the one who's really in it with Ed - he's had DECADES of this shit. That can't be willed away.

Stede's resolution to the curse conflict models a healthier method and one that I'm hoping we see in a future episode between Ed/Izzy. He validates the crew's feelings, make a sacrifice (the suit) and TOGETHER they collaborate on a solution to the issue that is mutually satisfactory - he even gets to keep the shirt, as a sort of compromise. It isn't about just making stede or the crew feel better, it's about moving on together.

This happens with Ed and Fang! Ed actually apologises once he realises what, specifically he did wrong. Fang says they're 'sweet' because he beat Ed to death (oof) which outwardly seems like retaliation working - but there has also been an actual apology and Fang wasn't retaliating against Ed, he was standing up for himself - a physical version of saying 'that wasn't OK - you need to change'.

This method of resolution is echoed in the final scene, with stede and ed. They reach an understanding about the pace of their relationship and find a happy medium (holding hands) - mutually satisfied and moving forwards.

Bottom line? I hope we see 1. Ed actually apologise to Izzy and 2. the pair of them outline what it is they want to change in their relationship moving forward, ending the cycle for good.

Thank you for coming to my Ed talk.

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

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

part five

part six: with the wilt of the rose

With the success of Eddie's Steve single as his bandmates had started to call it, the label had basically told Corroded Coffin in no uncertain terms to channel that energy into the rest of their album. It wasn't that Eddie didn't like the attention his song was getting and Steve absolutely deserved it, the lying piece of shit, but it was like getting permission to write angsty music about Steve took all the fun out of it. He was fully out of inspiration of the angst variety and had taken a hard left turn into moping, feeling sorry for himself, and being one thousand percent convinced that he was going to be single for the rest of his life and die alone.

Eddie was reclining in his giant beanbag chair (his nest as Steve used to joke with him), occasionally humming lines, strumming on his guitar, and writing more and more pathetically dramatic lyrics for most of the day until he reached his limit and pulled out his phone. It wasn't like Eddie was purposefully keeping track of people in Steve's life but over the time they were together his little gaggle of gremlins wormed his way into Eddie's life too. Unfortunately when he opened his phone it was to tweets of Dustin going low key feral over Steve's new role in some indie biopic but at the same time being crazy upset that Steve would be incommunicado as Dustin so helpfully added in his tweet. The kid was such a dweeb. Eddie flicked out of twitter and opened instagram hoping that his feed would be mostly possum memes. He scrolled idly for a while seeing new tattoo ideas and of course many cute furry animals doing many silly things until suddenly he was reminded of a particular face Steve made and Eddie (although he would never admit this) searched for Steve's public profile only a little disappointed that he hadn't posted anything more recent than when the two were together.

Because Eddie may or may not be a massive masochist and can't leave well enough alone, he decides to tab over to Steve's tagged pictures to see if there is anything recent. In between several tags of Steve being unfairly good looking in whatever movie he was currently filming, Eddie was taken aback by a post that was just of Robin and Nancy. They looked a little closer than just gal pals or whatever it was the tabloids called them while speculating how they could be friends while "fighting" over Steve. So much for modern feminism.

Before Eddie got distracted enough to go through a full rant that might include a fairly long section about how Ronnie was treated differently than the rest of his bandmates, Eddie focused back on the issue at hand. Why was Nancy who he highly suspected of stealing his fucking boyfriend posing like she was getting engaged to Steve's best friend. And why did they fucking tag him it it? Robin was snarky sure but she didn't seem like that level of bitch. Eddie took a deep breath and opened the fairly lengthy caption to see:

nancywheeler Hello World! It's been a long time coming but I am so excited to publicly announce that me and Robin (@buckster) are going steady. I know I don't post a whole lot about my person life on here (seriously, the rest of the world is so much more exciting) but you've always been so supportive of my coming out and sexuality related posts as well as understanding when I needed to set a boundary between my personal life and my online persona. I've been unable to share my most recent relationship for a really long time because of the public pressure of coming out and being a "marketable asset." Steve (@sharrington) could not have been a better support during this time and took a lot of public flak to keep Robin and I safe and comfortable until we were ready to be out publicly. He always offered up his home while I was visiting and kept me company while Robin was working. I guess us bi guys have to stick together, huh? Anyways, that's all for now. And no, we aren't engaged (yet 😈)

Eddie was floored. He had spent all his time since leaving Steve's apartment feeling very holier than thou and smug about everything that happened with Steve and the success his band was experience because of it. Although if one Miss Nancy Wheeler was telling the truth (which like as a journalist Eddie thinks she has to), Steve was actually helping his platonic soulmate find love with his exgirlfriend. If Eddie hadn't already felt kind of shitty for assuming the worst about Steve, this had to take the fucking cake. Eddie was truly done for. Put a fork in him. He's the worst person ever. Fuck. He needed reinforcements.

devilededs: uhm hi friends, i think maybe i am the asshole in the whole steve situation can u come to mine?

ronnie: you saw it? i can finally give you shit about being a total drama queen?

devilededs: what do you mean? why would you not tell me if you knew it existed.

ronnie: precisely because of this vibe right now.

devilededs: okay, everyone but ronnie pls come over i need snacks and maybe some really b grade horror but you have to indulge me in my sadness.

garbear: already on the way with your emotional support jeff and frank. we'll pick up snacks.

ronnie: if you let me problem solve for you can i come for snacks? i don't think i can handle moping eddie without trying to show you its very fixable.

devilededs: YES! FIX! ME! HOW! GET OVER HERE!

Eddie flopped back into the beanbag chair and let his notebook flop out of his lap. Thankfully his friends all had keys so he could continue to rot in place until Ronnie forcibly withdrew him from his hovel.

part seven

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[morganbritton132]

I adore Eddie falling asleep in front of the live stream and everything that follows

But now I’m also thinking of Steve one day seeing the live stream is still on but he has no idea how to turn it off so he has to ask Chat for help which he has to find first and it just turns into this hilarious quest of Chat trying to explain how to turn it off while Steve barely finds the chat to even read it

This is so painfully in line with this AU’s Steve and I love it so much. It’s perfect.

This time Steve is in the room when Eddie falls asleep, so he’s aware that there is a live-stream going on. He hasn’t been seen on camera, but the audience can hear him when he says, “You know what I’ve been craving?”

Followed by, “Benny’s Burgers. Isn’t that crazy?”

Followed by, “…Ed?”

Followed by, “Oh.”

Because Eddie’s eyes drifted shut ten minutes ago and they have yet to open. You can kinda hear movement and then Steve is wandering into the frame with his hands on his hips. He looks at the camera and frowns at it before he pokes Eddie in the arm, “Ed. Eddie, babe. You left the – the thing going.”

Eddie slumps over a little more and Steve sighs, running his hands through his hair. He doesn’t try to wake Eddie up anymore, just twists him around so he’s laying more comfortably. He throws a blanket over him and then wipes his hands of the whole situation. It is not his problem.

Except that makes him feel bad, so he comes back to the studio.

At first he just sits the phone facedown and leaves again, but he doesn’t like that either. What if Eddie talks in his sleep about the Upside Down (something that he has never done before), or has a bad nightmare, or farts and the whole internet hears it. Steve doesn’t want him to be embarrassed so, “It’s not rocket science, Harrington. Let’s figure this out.”

It might be rocket science.

For the audience at home, they get to experience Steve Harrington up close and personal because Steve is (1) not wearing his glasses and (2) cannot figure out how to end the stream. He keeps tapping at the screen, looking more and more annoyed as he does it, and then he stands up and walks out of the room.

Steve puts the phone on the coffee table in the living room, and then leaves again. After another five minutes, he comes back. The audience at home gets to watch this man mutter to himself as he places the phone in different rooms and then decides he doesn’t like it there and comes back for it (“The bathroom? Really, Harrington? What are you doing?”).

Frustrated with wasting the last hour of his life (much to the amusement of the people watching), Steve picks up the phone again and glares at it. He is sitting on the floor in the living room, squinting at the phone as he jabs at the screen again, “Tell me how to turn you off.”

Steve frowns, “Where’s the chatlog? I know there’s a – oh my god.”

“There was nothing wrong with AOL messenger!” Steve rants to the screen as he continues to poke at it. “I had AOL and I was happy. Everything was where it should be. Myspace was fine! I had a Myspace, but this – Oh! I got it. I got it! Hello. Can someone tell me how to turn this off?”

There are a lot of people in the chat. Most of them are excited that Steve is there and they’re gushing in the comments about how much they love him and appreciate him. Some people are asking questions about him. There are people begging him not to end the stream and others telling him to wake Eddie up.

There are even people who are genuinely trying to help him, but it’s all coming at Steve really fast. It’s sudden and overwhelming, and – “I’m too dyslexic for this.”

“I’ve got a brain like scrambled eggs, can – just one of you talk and tell me how to end this. Can you do that?” Steve asks, and everybody comments at once. “So, no. You can’t do that. Great.”

Steve rubs at his eyes and then does what he should’ve done in the first place and calls Dustin. He has his phone on speaker so the audience can hear when Dustin answers. Steve only says, “Help me.”

“With the stream or in general?”

“How do you –“ Steve stops, makes eye contact with the camera and then rolls his eyes. “Have I not suffered enough for you.”

“No.”

Steve has a look on his face like he’s about to remind Dustin that he was literally tortured in the name of scientific discovery but thinks better of it and says, “I’m telling Erica.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you how to end it.”

Dustin starts walking Steve through how to end the live stream but right before Steve hits the right button to end it all, both his phone and Eddie’s phone are knocked out his hands and you hear him yelp as he’s tackled over. The chat explodes and Dustin’s like, “Where’d you go? Steve?”

Then you hear the sound of a kiss and Eddie say, “I’ve missed you.”

There’s a smile in Steve’s voice when he says, “It’s been an hour.”

“Tell me about it.”

There’s the sound of another kiss and then, very loudly, Steve says, “Turn off your live-stream!”

[shaw-ni]

Steadyhands AU, post Edizzy divorce where after some therapy, an intervention from their friends and a break from each other which lasted a few weeks, Ed and Izzy’s relationships is firmly in the “ it’s complicated” option on Facebook (Izzy is a Facebook mum and does post pointed passive aggressive rants on his page daily). Ed starts bringing Izzy coffee during their lunch break, a large haf-caf cappuccino with coconut milk and one sugar (haf-caf because he needs some caffeine to keep himself awake but not enough to keep him trapped to the toilet seat). Ed has a new concoction every day, always with 7 pumps of what ever syrup they have on option, and coconut milk as well (which he gets to let Izzy have a taste, and even though it tastes like a headache and the cream is never dairy free, Izzy always tries at least one sip, he’s trying too, okay?). Thing is, the coffee might just be the best coffee he’s ever tasted, the first time Izzy tasted it (trying not to look into Ed’s big brown hopeful eyes) he almost moaned in bliss, but settled for a slight nod and a muttered “it’s good”, which might as well have been a Hollywood handshake coming from Izzy.

The coffee cups are damn adorable too, with little illustrated pirate ships and the ocean filled with sea creatures on the sides (and some weird swirly writing as well, probably the barista writing the order? Not sure what the hearts are about, who cares, cursive is beyond him). The coffee shop is called ‘the revenge’ which seems an odd name, but their Tattoo parlour is called ‘Queen Annie’, so who is he to judge (said Izzy never). There’s only one problem, however, every time Ed comes back from the coffee shop, he practically skips into the studio, smile dimpling his cheeks like he just ate something sugary sweet. And Izzy knows that smile, even though it’s been years since it’s been aimed at him, it’s almost enough to put him off his coffee (almost, it’s fucking good coffee, right!).

Anywho, this goes on for a couple of weeks, with Izzy gritting his teeth every time Ed prances through the Parlour doors, until one day Ed’s not here to give him his daily coffee fix ( he told Ed going clubbing with Jack was a bad idea, but what’s does he know? He’s only been on the wrong end of Jacks generous pours since before he was legally allowed to drink, but whatever). Beforehand, Izzy would of just used their shop owned coffee machine in the kitchen, but perhaps he’s been a tiny but spoiled these past few weeks because their Nespresso coffee capsule doesn’t sounds appealing at all (that, and he’s not sure when it was last cleaned). He eventually decides, fuck it, and grabs his coat to head out side. It doesn’t take him long to find ‘the Revenge’, the place has a distinctly 16th century feel to it, in that it looks like it’s came right of the set of a period drama. The outside of the shop resembling the front of a ship, equipped with a unicorn figurehead, intricate wood carvings and what appears to be several hand made flags (including the trans flag, which, fuck yeah).

Inside, the place is bustling with customers and live music, the pirate theme seems to continue with the interior and there is a relaxing low light illuminating the shop. The live music, a tall but awkward man playing sea shanties on stage, seems to be the reason for the large number of people in the shop, and fortunately the line behind the counter seems to be relatively short. He makes a beeline for the line and repeats his coffee order in his head (it pays to be prepared). After five minutes, the line has annoyingly, not budged an inch; at this rate he’ll end up late for his next appointment. Izzy stretches his head to peer over the few heads in front of him and notices a tall, blonde twat babbling away to the frazzled barista. Fucking twat.

“Oye, quit holding up the line, some of us have places to be,” Izzy yells over to said twat. Startled, the man turns towards Izzy, and oh shit, assholes shouldn’t be allowed to be pretty, Jesus Christ. Shit. The asshole looks directly at Izzy, his eyes seem to drift and then linger on his chest, before moving slowly back to his face. Shit. He must be feeling the effects of a caffeine withdrawal, the only explanation to why he suddenly feels so flushed.

“One moment, sir. We’re quite in the middle of something.” With that the twat turns back to the barista, picking up their conversation.

Never mind, the only thing he’s feeling now is pissed.

“Mate, I doubt this guy wants to listen to your sad attempt at flirting, just order your damn coffee and go.”

The blonde asshole splutters angrily? Embarrassedly? And turns his full body towards Izzy (Jesus, those shoulders don’t deserve this guy, not fucking fair).

“My attempts at flirting are not sad! You angry little man! And I’m not flirting, that would be unprofessional, considering I am attempting to converse with my own staff!” The man speaks in a way that emphasises the unspoken exclamation points in his speech without actually increasing the volume of his voice, his accent is familiar in the way a 5 year old might play Mary had a little lamb on the piano. And wait… did he just say his staff?

He scoffs. “ Your staff?.”

The asshole raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Mine.”

Izzy raises his own bushy eyebrow. “Well if I was you, I’d—”

“Oh, hey Izzy, didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Izzy turns too see his ex husband turned current best friend and forever love of his life weaving quickly through the crowd, suspiciously springy for someone who was supposed to be ‘too sick to work’ hungover.

Ed finally makes it through the cluster of people, and swings an arm around Izzy’s shoulder. He grins at Izzy and then weirdly enough at the blonde asshole Izzy was in the middle of arguing with. “I see you’ve met Stede!” He cups his hand to his mouth and mock whispers to the blonde twat, of course he’d have a pretentious name like Stede. “Man, Izzy here loves your cappuccinos, won’t drink it from anywhere else, he even said they were ‘not shit’ which coming from Izzy, is a five star review!”

Wait, what?

“He makes the cof—”

“He drinks the cappuccino?!?”

Izzy looks to the blonde prick, who seems to be turning an amusing shade of pink and oh… suddenly the hearts on the coffee cups make a lot more sense. Shit. Well isn’t this fucking fantastic.

[selfawarejester]

True North | Edward Elric

pairing: edward elric x gn!reader

summary: ed has thoughts about his soulmate. Soulmate AU, fluff/angst.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: instead of doing my English assignment (which is the same amount of words, mind you), I decided to do this. First fic for the FMA fandom (finally)! Please enjoy <3

Ed could be considered the perfect example of a man of science. After all, despite all his loud and often-inflammatory (to his poor brother’s lament) proclamations against God, he treated science, specifically Alchemy, as a sort of religion itself — he knelt at its altars (or the arrays) and clasped his hands together “in prayer” to make miracles happen. Miracles that were completely logical and comprehensible to him, regardless of their complexity or intricacy.

But one thing still baffled him: one thing that was proven and real, and yet had no scientific basis whatsoever.

The soulmate bond.

Plenty of alchemists have been trying to figure it out for centuries. What makes one seek out their so-called “one true love”? What causes the tug, the force of which increased every passing year after one’s 15th birthday, or the closer you were to that person? What are the deciding factors as to one’s soulmate? These were questions that were slaved over, entire lives spent trying to puzzle out, volumes upon volumes of journals and articles dedicated to the phenomenon; and yet, there was no conclusive answer.

He didn’t like not having answers.

He especially didn’t like how crazy it drove his little brother.

“But isn’t it wonderful to think about, Brother?” He bites back a groan, but still rolls his eyes violently as Al started on another rant about the phenomenon. “A tangible link to the person you’re fated to be with!”

“Yeah, it’s a real doozy.” Ed mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Can we maybe get back to our research?”

Al sighs, and even though he can’t see it, he knows the brat’s shooting him that look — “Why are you so pig-headed, Brother?”, he can hear his innocent little voice.

“Brother…” Al starts off, armor creaking as he shifts behind him. “Haven’t you gotten your soulmate link yet?”

Ed stiffens, page in mid-turn.

Alphonse had been kind enough not to ask, but he’s been expecting the kid to pop the question for weeks now. After all, there was no one more romantic than his little brother; that much was obvious from the novels he snuck around and hid from him.

(And who could have given him those novels except-)

He shakes his head, knocking the thoughts of that person out as well.

“Sorry to disappoint, bud.” He sounds more confident than he feels, that eternal pressure tugging behind his sternum again. “Do me a favor and go through that pile over there, okay-?”

“And you call the Colonel a slavedriver.” A dulcet voice tsks behind him and he stiffens again.

Alphonse doesn’t notice, too caught up in greeting you, clambering up with a delighted call of your name.

The pressure burns now, causing a tremendous aching that makes him squeeze his eyes shut to push past it.

It just had to be you, didn’t it?

He flashes a smile over his shoulder, lifting his hand in a slight wave before going back to his research. Another person might be offended, but of course you aren’t.

You’re an understanding person, after all, who (as a part-time employee) sees all types in this library that the Elrics put up shop in for days at a time.

You’re a sweet person, who smiles gently when you not-so-subtly threaten to kick them out if they don’t take care of themselves.

It’s not that surprising it’s you.

For a little while, he thought it was Winry, as his heart kept tugging endlessly towards the direction in which the train to Resembool always ran.

It’s not until a month after his birthday that you returned, recounting your hometown visit (only a town over from where he grew up), and his chest almost exploded as you walked in, that he realized who his soulmate was.

There could have been worse soulmates, he thought as he watched you speak to Alphonse over his shoulder, not nearly as sly as he wished to be.

You and Al were such great friends — sure, it pissed him off a little, doubly jealous as both of you took up so much of the other’s attention — but it would’ve devastated him if you guys couldn’t get along.

You weren’t difficult on the eyes either — but that could have been the effect of his feelings or the soulmate bond, because though you were the most gorgeous thing he ever laid eyes on, he knew logically that you couldn’t have been the prettiest person in the world… but it sure did feel like it, though.

You were pretty smart — of course, he wouldn’t have cared if you weren’t, not everyone could be the prodigies he and his brother were, but he liked that you could follow along with the basics of what he was saying… even if you were completely uninterested in alchemy.

Which brought him to perhaps your most important quality, your patience. You sat there, day in and day out, listening to his rants and rambles even when it got to the point that common courtesy would have allowed you to flip him off and walk away.

And you just watched him from under Alphonse’s arm with gentle eyes, even though you both knew you were each other’s soulmates.

“Before I forget,” You interrupt Al, looking apologetic. “That new book you were asking about-“

“The one with the-?!” Al stops abruptly, snapping to look at Ed — who, in a moment of utter grace, flips around hard enough to bang both his elbow and his knee on the table.

But the pain and embarrassment might have been worth it to hear your laugh, loud and snorting and musical to his ears.

“I’ll go pick it up right now.” Al whispers way too loud, making you snicker. “Go distract Brother.”

“You got it!” You whisper just as loud, and Al giggles before sneaking off.

Ed bites the inside of his cheek, trying to will his cheeks back to their normal color when you plop down next to him, leaning your head on your palm.

“You ever gonna tell Alphonse? Or even make a move on me?” You were blunt too, awesomely to-the-point even to military officials like State Alchemists. Even Mustang went silent that one time you saw him berating your soulmate and stepped in, asking him about a book that was considerably overdue. He walked away with his chin held high, yet trembling under the disapproving glare of the Lieutenant.

Ed sighs. He knows you deserve better than him. He’s not unaware of how painful this if for you — it’s just as bad for him. He was never interested in romance or soulmates beyond a few discussions between the brothers and Winry about what they wanted their soulmates to be like… which usually ended with Alphonse rolling his eyes and Winry declaring that he would die alone.

He remembers declaring that he would be fine if he never had a soulmate. After all, his mom and that tall, bearded jerk who fathered him were soulmates. The stories their mother told the boys, twinkly-eyes and nostalgic, were what rooted their views on the concept: Alphonse yearned for it, deeply, and Ed grew bitter about it, understanding that even soulmates could ditch you and your two kids.

Until he met you, and suddenly he wanted… more. He wanted to try, to learn, for you. He knew you deserved so much, and even though he wasn’t sure he could give them to you, he wanted so bad to try. He was overcome with guilt and longing every time he saw your beautiful eyes.

But there was another guilt, a greater guilt and responsibility that came first. He mumbled your name forlornly, wishing so bad that he could say it the way he wanted to.

“I have to focus on this first. You know-“

“I know, I know.” You nod, but your eyes at downcast now, and he hates himself so much more now. “It would be nice to be acknowledged, though.”

He leans forward, putting his hand over yours.

You gasp; Ed’s not one to initiate physical contact, having jumped away the first time your skin touched his. The intense look in his eyes as they fix on your face doesn’t help, either.

“I’m gonna do right by you.” He swears right then and there, in his sacred place of worship, surrounded by the greatest works on Alchemy. “I’ll get mine and Al’s bodies back, and I’ll come find you.”

“Yeah?” You breathe out, eloquence stolen from you by his determination.

“Yeah.” He nods, squeezing your hand, a small smile curling up his lips. “I’ll take you to that café you like. It’ll be nice.”

A sudden urge to take it back, to pick another destination you might like better throws him; a café, how dumb was that?! You went there all the time! He couldn’t think of anything better than that?!

But you surprise him, laughing and biting your lip.

“Sounds great.” You say, completely genuine. At the sound of heavy footsteps, you rise, readying yourself to take your leave.

As you round the bookshelf that obscures his workspace from the rest of the world however, you stop for a moment, looking back.

“And once you’re done, you know how to find me.”

And you go, with a cute smile on your face.

And his heart tugs.

[kidcataldo]

Going through an old email and found this from 2019. It explores my hc of Drakken’s extended family (specifically his daddy issues) as well as their reluctance to become parents.

By this time I was already drifting from the fandom (personally I never fade out of fandoms completely, I always just linger after I’ve had my fill), so the characters might be a little ooc, idk.

Warning: NSFW content.

Title: Hello/Goodbye

Drakken didn’t like talking about his dad. Even after they started dating, he rarely spoke about it. One time, she remembers, while staying at his old family home, his mother mentioned a man called Percival during dinner. Drakken visibly tensed at the mentioning of his name, so Shego changed the subject and Mama Lipsky went off on a rant about half priced grape juice at her local market.

Later that night, while Mama Lipsky was busy washing dishes—both Drakken and Shego offered to help, but she insisted she could do it alone—Drakken showed her the wall where his mother displayed all her family photos. His family was Jewish, but non practicing. He far preferred Snowman Hank and all things Christmas. But remnants of that culture lingered on the wall, especially in the old photos. “The black and white photo with the couple frowning at the camera are my grandparents,” he said. “Grandpa died when mother was just a teen. My baba died when I was ten.” He also showed her a picture of a young Motor Ed, looking more innocent than radical, crying while standing next to a goat. “He was afraid the goat might bite him, like it did the year before, but Aunt Libby wanted the photo,” Drakken told her. Then he showed her a picture of his Uncle Robert, who died when he was eight. “He was the best babysitter,” he said, “because he made chili dogs and let us build a blanket fort in the living room.”

In the center was a picture of Drakken with a birthday cake. He was small, five said the candles before him. In the background there was a man sitting in a chair, looking off in the distance, away from the birthday boy.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing.

He only shook his head and moved on to the next photo: a picture of him and Ed with their mothers and grandmother with Drakken clutching onto his grandmother, his “Baba.” He looked so happy.

Years passed and he still had trouble talking about his father. Once he cried on Shego’s shoulder; a few other times he got so angry about it, his blue face turned purple. “He had another family, you know,” he mentioned once.

After the crying stopped, they made love in the room that used to be Drakken and Ed’s childhood bedroom. Now it was a mix between a study and a guest room. They started out on the creaky couch bed, but moved to the grandfather chair when Drakken became paranoid about his mother hearing them.

They had no protection because they weren’t planning to have sex with Mama Lipsky just behind the thin wall. But he seemed so sad and it was the only way she knew how to comfort him. It was their first time making love. At least it was her first time making love to him; he could have been making love to her all the times they had been together. She watched his face carefully as he struggled not to come, stroking his back gently. It was then she realized. And she had the urge to sigh out the dreaded L word as he penetrated her, but she didn’t. She waited until they were vacationing in the Bahamas three weeks later. She gave him a hand job snuggling in a hammock and the words slipped out like the come inside of him. But that night, in his old bedroom, she stayed quiet. His mother was in the other room.

Shego found out she was pregnant while Drakken was house sitting for Mama Lipsky some years later. She had been feeling ill all week and she finally decided to see a doctor about it. By that time, Commodore Puddles was Mama Lipsky’s dog fully and Drakken called her complaining about how demanding the dog was. She kept quiet about the pregnancy on the phone, and she really wasn’t listening to anything he was telling her, but at the end of the conversation he begged her to come over to keep him company.

She told him yes.

They were back in the old creaky bed, because Drakken did not feel comfortable sleeping in his mother’s room, nor in the room his Baba died in. He asked her why she was so quiet, if it was something he said at dinner—he had taken her to an old Italian deli that was once his favorite place in the world. She pretended that it was something over dinner. But when he kept nagging at her, she finally blurted out the truth.

He was too calm for her liking. “Oh,” came his response much later. He rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling, instead of at her. “That explains it.”

She burnt her pillow and threw it at him, then went to sleep in his dead Baba’s creepy old room. She took care of her brothers most of her life. That should be enough.

They fought the next morning. Drakken was angry, and exhausted, because they had only talked about having kids once and they both, he thought, agreed they did not want any. “Well… things happen,” was Shego’s quick witted response, uncertainty consuming her. After the yelling stopped, they sat down at the Lipsky’s ancient kitchen table and talked until noon. Things were discussed, and other things were decided. And suddenly they felt so separate. Pain lingered. She wanted only to take back the, “I love you.” Bit her tongue instead.

“Nrgh, this isn’t what we wanted!” The words surrounded them, haunting them as time passed. Mama Lipsky was the only one who seemed happy. She proudly framed the sonogram and hung it on her wall of family pictures, right below the picture of Drakken and his dad at his fifth birthday party. She wanted to celebrate. Shego left almost immediately. Drakken stayed a few extra weeks.

They made up, sort of, when he eventually came home. Sex. Always sex, rarely any talking. But nothing felt the same.

Nine months later, fourteen days before Drakken turned fifty, Shego’s water broke. It wasn’t like how she saw in the movies. Her body ached, sweat glistened all over. She was sitting up the entire time, her hands gripping the rails on each side of her, with a focused expression on her face. A pale Drakken stood dutifully beside her, waiting…

And suddenly a small whimper—Drakken’s—as the doctor proclaimed he could see the head. She saw only fear and knew he was thinking about him. It had always been about him.Where was he, Drakken’s… Percival? Was he even still alive? They don’t talk about it. Not even Mama Lipksy.

“It’s a girl,” somebody declared, sounding more like an echo than a nearing voice.

With one final push, it was out: gooey, crying in the gloved hands of the doctor. Something burst within Shego as it was placed on her chest, feeling so foreign in her arms, so breakable.

Drakken’s eyes remained glued to the crying thing clutched to her chest. Was she what they wanted? The nurses took her before she could decide and she closed her eyes. They called her “Mama” while doing so. Mama Lipsky was Mama. Shego was… Shego. Was this what she wanted? Exhaustion consumed her; she felt herself fading.

She awoke in an empty room. No crying. No doctor. No… She searched for any sign of him. Nothing. He was gone.

Alone.

He was nearly fifty. She was pushing forty. Not to mention they were criminals, technically—with a few new loopholes, but still… She was on the no fly list, banned from entering twenty-something countries in just Europe alone.

Sitting up, she yanked out her IV and the alarm set off. Maybe she could start a new life in Bermuda or somewhere. But when bare feet met hospital tile, tiredness once again took over. She could not find the strength to fight her way out.

The door was ajar with hurried footsteps coming near it. Shego extended her arm for the nurse to mend it, already formulating some lie about how it fell off while she was asleep.

“Um, I have to go now, mother,” came Drakken’s voice, clearly. He stepped inside with the baby cradled in his arms and his phone up to his ear balanced by his lifted shoulder and craned neck. “All right. I love you. Call you later.”

Did he tell his mother he loved her? Without her nagging at him first? And did he openly promise to call her later? What kind of drugs did the doctor have her on?

Struggling at first, unable to cradle the baby with only one hand, he easily decided to let his phone slide out of his grip and onto the ground. The baby remained unfazed, calm in the comfort of his big blue arms. “Shego… what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Um, nothing.” She allowed herself to lay back down. He moved to her side, again struggling to do anything with the baby in his arms. She pulled the sheets up to cover herself, and he simply watched on. “I just… thought you left.”

“Oh.”

The nurse came trodding in, muttering something about patients needing to follow directions. He fixed the alarm and then the IV, making it extra tight this time to assure the incident would not happen again. And he was gone again in an instant, as another nurse poked her head in asking her for help.

Drakken and Shego’s focus remained on the sleeping baby the entire time. She had Drakken’s nose… maybe his everything else, too. It was too early to tell. She was white, but tan in comparison to all the blue around her.

“That was mother,” he clarified after a moment, gesturing to his phone abandoned now on the ground. His unibrow raised. “Oh, um, Mazel tov, she told me to say.”

“Lemme guess, her mama senses were tingling. She phoned because she knew I’d be out cold.”

“I called her, actually.” He sniffled. She realized, suddenly, he had been crying.

“Oh.” She sat up and pain shot through her, like a thousand needles stabbing at her insides. The drugs were wearing off. And her mind was clearing. “Look… I know this isn’t exactly—”

The baby’s face wrinkled and she began to cry. Drakken tried cooing her, rocking her back and forth to ease her back to sleep. His movements were awkward but gentle… loving. Another nurse entered, the one who needed help before. She smiled, gesturing to Shego. “Sounds like it’s time for your first feeding, mama.”

Mama. It still felt so foreign. Would they call Drakken’s mom Baba Lipsky now? Mama Shego sounded so sour in her mouth.

“Feeding?” questioned Drakken, hesitating before handing the baby over to the nurse, who then gently placed it in Shego’s reluctant arms. The curtain was drawn, the nurse stripped her from her gown, and then angled the tiny mouth to her breast. It latched, instinct taking over. “Oh. Feeding.”

The baby was back in Drakken’s arms about an hour later. He told her he couldn’t understand. All this time his mother loved him this much. And he couldn’t understand, until now. The confession took her by surprise. He seemed unfazed.

He slipped back into his old self easily; she still needed more time. “I can see it so clearly, Shego. My greatest idea yet… A play house! With a blue door and a garden—ooh, and a full kitchen set.” And he stopped, suddenly looking at her with uncertainty. “Um, Shego?”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“Is the plan still to take over the world?”

Something inside her ached. It had been, hadn’t it? Taking over the world one day. Even after all these years. Even after all their defeats. But now, she honestly could not say.

A/N: My hc for these two as parents is Drakken finally finding something he’s good at and enjoys (sort of becoming the new mama lipsky) while Shego becomes reluctant/unsure about her goals in life. Also, I always hc them being older parents ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[imqueerandadeer]

Okay it's time again for rants and personal stories no one fucking asked for. Todays topic: How fucking rampant and normalized ableism is, with comments from @pansgoobernonsense as usual.

Really long post ahead guys you've been warned.

The reason it has been featured in the last post and now this one is because it's also ND and Asian and I wanted to get other peoples experiences with ableism.

It also said that I can interview it for practice because journalism sounds cool to me and I might want to be a journalist.

Anyways obligatory disclaimer/reminder. I don't speak for all mentally disabled people because we are not a monolith!! For example I am great at masking my ADHD and Autism (I'll get into that with more context later) and it's somthing I've picked up subconsciously. Other people with my same conditions may not be good at masking.

Also this post will mostly center around mental disabilities, specifically ADHD and autism because thats what we have and know most about. Neither me nor my friend are physically disabled (to my knowledge) so I won't speak much on it because It's not my place.

Alright with that out of the way lets add some context.

Hi, if you don't know me or haven't seen my blog before (most of you probably have though in some shape or form) I'm Ollie or Cupid. I have ADHD, self diagnosed (and peer diagnosed) autism, and possible dyscalculia. Theres also a millon other things I'm suspicious about having but I won't get into those.

Lets start with this, imagine (or don't idc) that your back in *gasp* middle school. Terrifying. Now since this is tumblr I'm gonna assume most of you have autism and/or ADHD so y'all most likely know what it's like to be in middle school and be ND. But still I wanted to talk about my experiences with ableism in school.

Okay I've noticed that the difference of how I get treated because I mask and those that can't mask for whatever reason is wildly different. I have instructional support which is technically special ed and no one has ever called me "Sped" or the R-slur. Versus the the kids who visibly have support needs and their disabilities are present. They get called those things all the fucking time.

The hypocrisy of it all is what really gets me. Kids at my school will really stand there and call these other kids dehumanizing things while I stand there as a person with ADHD and autism having to akwardly laugh it off and pretend it doesn't effect me. Yes of course I tell them off but it doesn't work, because they have been taught that what they're saying is fine and people who have higher support needs are not human, which is wrong and ablesist.

Thats not even their fault really it's what they were taught. Although if they weren't taught it and they know It's wrong but still do it then it's their fault

It genuinely got so bad that me and my friends wrote a letter to the office telling them about the ablesist language at our school, I don't think the letters ever got sent but yeah it was that bad.

On another note I don't think my schools very wheelchair accessible at all, although I wouldn't know really because I don't use a wheelchair.

Now heres @pansgoobernonsense experiences woth ableism as a whole, while mine were mostly about school its are more personal

"My personal experiences with ableism are mostly from my parents, and since I have not one but two neurodevelopmental disorders I’ve experienced it a lot. The most notable of these experiences come from my parents reaction to my autism.

A notable example was the time I was crying because I didn’t want to go to a party (I had had a panic attack at another similar party at the same place with similar people) and my dad had said I didn’t need to go but my mom made me.

I tried to explain (through tears) that I didn’t want to go and my dad angrily called me “autistic”. I’ve also been told to just “act normal” in social situations (despite the textbook definition of autism being essentially “I can’t act normal in social situations”). My parents have also neglected to tell me about my diagnosis for basically my entire life.

I was diagnosed when I was 2-3 and only found out this year. The reason behind this decision was “if I knew I’d tell everyone and use it as a get out of jail free card”.

They seem to treat my diagnosis as a label rather than an actual disability. It makes sense, since historically mental disabilities haven’t been treated the same as physical disabilities, but it’s still an awful experience."

While my experiences with things like this haven't been as severe as Nicks experiences I do have some of my own.

One time I was talking to my mother and she said that they suspected I had ADHD but didn't get me tested until I was 12 because she didn't want me on meds that early, which yes is a semi fair point but still why would you keep your suspicions a secret until I startes to notice and suspect it myself. That seems so weird to me and it could have saved me a lot if trouble if she had just told me.

Anyways thats it, sorry if it's not cohesive or coherent it's 1:00 am for me, I need to sleep

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi guys! Got an anon ask with some triggers, so I'm copying it here so I can put a 'read more.'

TW: ED, SH

Here's the original ask:

hey Cas!

hru today? <3

I rlly don’t wanna bother u but I just need some advice bc I’m in a pretty tricky situation and I don’t know who I couldn’t turn to who wouldn’t then tell OTHER people (adults etc)

also a TW b4 anyone reads further: ED (not me but a a friend) and generally bad mental health (including sh and sui)

Basically I have this friend (one of my best friends) who’s struggled with really bad mental health and attempted in the past (we weren’t friends during this time but they’ve shared it with me) they have told me they no longer sh but I’m not entirely sure if I believe him on that but I guess there’s nothing to do except just take their word for it and they are definitely doing better than they were before (about a year or two ago)

thing is this friend does still have a (pretty bad I think) ED (specifically I think they have anorexia but I’m really not sure because I don’t know that much about EDs. I’ve tried to do some research but it’s actually incredibly hard to find any info about them especially in terms of ways to emotionally show support. In a medical sense they always seemed to be talked about like minor things(?) idk it’s hard to explain but often times I’ve been reading actual factual medical stuff and just been disgusted at the ways it’s discussed, like they try so hard to describe it from a technical viewpoint that they essentially the entire mental health aspect of it which kind of demeans the whole thing bc EDs ARE a mental health disorder)

sorry went on a little side rant there but basically I’ve tried to find stuff out but it’s really hard to learn about the mental health aspect and even harder to find stuff out about how to HELP someone through an ED

I’ve even resorted to looking thru some more unsavoury places for info (including anablr), I know these types of places encourage EDs and I am actually not a person who really loves their body very much but I do think I’m in a strong enough place emotionally to do this (and so far I’ve been correct, I’m unaffected) because I just wanted some actual insight on what it’s like

the problem with my friend is that she’s ALREADY in therapy. Her parents put her in it when they found out about her vaping habit but they just lie all the time (she tells me about it) because they have like serious trust issues due to past trauma and I’m gonna be honest, I 100% believe therapy is a good thing but sadly it is also entirely useless if the person doesn’t make any effort to get better

all I can do in that aspect of it is hope the therapy is going better than the jokes he makes about it or that eventually she will feel comfortable enough to share and process her issues

in terms of the ED what im really lost with is how to help

and don’t get me wrong, I know you can’t really help a person who doesn’t want to be helped but honestly I’m not giving up on this person I care about that easily. I will NOT be another person in their life who abandons them for being ‘too much’ or ‘too difficult’. I’ve already accepted the fact that I will not be able to help them out of it really (as best as I can at least)

I’ve already taken to carrying gum and mints in my school bag as much as I can (usually I’ll have a pack of both and I just share them with everyone so this person doesn’t actually catch wind that they’re the reason I do as quite often when they skip lunch they do help themselves to a few of my mints or gum pieces but ik if they knew it was for them they’d stop bc she’s just like that)

I just don’t know how else to help emotionally though, I’m one of the only people (I might be the ONLY person at all) that they feel comfortable enough to talk to about these issues and I just think its better that they’re telling someone who cares about them and is trying to help than telling no one at all which seems to be the alternative. The issue is I don’t know how to respond or show support especially because (thank u trust issues and trauma (/s) the window of vulnerability is SMALL (I’m talking a couple of seconds literally) before they’re joking and changing the subject

Also a small (but frankly compared to the rest of this, not very important) detail is that like I previously mentioned I am also not suuuper happy with my body ( I don’t sh really or have an ED in any way shape or form) and sometimes the stuff he says slightly upsets me (just like once I told him about how my mean grandma told me I was fat and had to eat less and he said his grandma forces him to eat more and that my grandma ‘sounds like her wet dream’ - I know this was just a joke obviously but I didn’t rlly love it considering my grandma is a pretty big source of my looks based insecurities)

like I said in no way is it on the same level and obviously I know it’s not coming from a place of malice because this friend also really looks out for my mental health like way more than my other friends tbh (I don’t know if it’s bc they struggled with it or whether they’re the only one who seems to notice I’m the therapist friend haha but they are the FIRST person to ask if anything’s wrong if I’m acting different and I rlly want to stress that because I know that from what I’ve said so far they may have come across as selfish or something but they are actually one of the kindest people ever) that’s especially why I’m worried if I bring anything up about wanting to help with little things or especially anything about not being a fan of little jokes that she’ll just stop talking about it at all in an attempt to make me feel more comfortable)

for context for all of this, I’m 15 (we both are) so still in school and they’re parents absolutely SUCK (in the most non violent way possible I would like to kill them [not actually but I do really hate them and wish them only the worst]) so there’s no emotional support coming from home for him

I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about this in real life because (for privacy reasons) they’ve asked me not to share it with like my other friends and I don’t have the greatest relationship with my parents (they’re not like abusive or neglectful or anything but we just have a lot of differences and just I’ve very much emotionally distanced myself from them)

sorry if this is too much because I do know it’s a really tricky situation and even though all of us sort of deify you, you’re still only one person and if this does make you uncomfortable or upset (not just if it’s triggering I mean just in general if you’re reading this and you don’t feel comfortable) in anyway please don’t force yourself to answer or feel guilty if you don’t because the last thing I’d want to do is put you in that kind of position

Im not sure if ill send in more anons but if I do then ill refer to myself (and you can call me) lacy anon so you know who I am (yes after the song bc i rlly love it haha)

Anyway sending lots and lots of love from the person who does basically look up to you as their adult role model and who I wanna be like when I’m older <3

Hi love! You're not bothering me at all!

So, first, I want to let you know that I am an adult, but when I say this, I hope you don't take it as...condescending, I guess? Because I don't mean it that way at all. I want to be realistic in the fact that these things you are dealing with are VERY grown-up and scary, and you are handling them in a remarkably mature way, but you are still legally fifteen.

This is way too much for a fifteen year old to take on.

You genuinely seem like the most amazing person. The fact that you have done research and carry around things for your friends, all to help them with their ED is frankly restoring my faith in humanity a bit. But I worry that you are placing WAY too much of the responsibility on yourself. I don't mean to be bleak or too blunt, but if god forbid anything ever happened, I would hate for you to blame yourself, and it sounds like you would. Your job is to be this person's friend. Not their therapist or caretaker.

So, here's my advice: I absolutely agree that you should not give up on them! But make sure you have boundaries. It broke my heart to read that you were going to places like anablr just to help- that's not healthy for you! As a friend, especially at your age, your most important job is to make sure your friend doesn't feel alone. And you're doing an amazing job, in my opinion. They seem to be willing to talk to you, and that's a big deal. But, in the best way, you are fifteen, and you don't have to have all the answers! Sometimes, the best way to support someone is to remind them that they are loved and they have someone in their corner. BUT remember that being there for someone doesn't mean you have to sacrifice yourself or your mental health. Say something if a joke makes you uncomfortable. "I love you so much, but that joke makes me feel uncomfortable. Can you maybe not joke like that?" It's okay and healthy to set those boundaries.

Please remember, you are not responsible for this person. You can love them and be there for them and care deeply, but you are responsible for you and your own health. Don't forget you.

My last very gentle suggestion is this: If you ever get to the point that you are so genuinely worried about this friend that you think it is a life-or-death situation, please don't take that on by yourself. I know it is scary, and I know that telling adults mean that there can be ramifications, but remember that if you are genuinely scared, then an adult needs to be there to keep everyone safe. Very bluntly: Trust can be rebuilt but you can't bring people back from some other very permanent decisions.

Again, you are a wonderful person, and a fantastic friend. But remember to take yourself into account and stay safe in all ways. I know this is probably not the advice you want to hear, but I hope maybe you'll consider it.

Sending so much love! <3 <3 <3

[uwukillmenowowo]

Hi!! May I please request something for a Starlo (Undertale Yellow) x Reader, maybe with Starlo taking care of reader after they got into a battle and now gets to tend to any cuts they may have and overall just being a worried protective mess? Thank you so much in advance, I hope you have a great day!

OML YES!!!

STARLO IS MY SECOND FAV IN UT: YELLOW

≧ ♥ ᴗ ♥ ≦

[Dalv will always be my number one- ]

Stay By My Side

(Starlo X M!Reader)

(+ Platonic Feisty Four)

Notes:

Reader will take the place of Clover

Reader will be male just because-

You've been living with Starlo and the others for a while.

They're practically your family

You do know that North Star is Starlo's actual name but you call him Starlo more just cuz it's shorter to pronounce

When you dreamed too much of your home on the surface

You left...

You found yourself traveling with Ceroba within the Lab

But that ended when you two came into contact with Chujin's robotic creation

WHO TRIED TO KILL YOU!

Thankfully you survived.

But after the tiering battle, you went back home

To Starlo

Hurt... Beaten... Battered. No weapons... low HP.

Slowly, you made your way out of the lab, blood leaking out of your wounds.

{Second POV}

~~~~~

You took in deep breaths as you slowly made your way back to the Wild East. You had no more items so you were clinging to life on one HP.

You couldn't find a save point nearby either. For some reason, all the previous save points you found before were suddenly gone. You didn't know why but you knew that you didn't want to fight Axis all over again.

With a heavy breath you finally made it back. Ed was the first one you saw. You called out to him, but barely. Your voice was horse with the screaming you did.

As soon as he saw you he ran over and picked you up carefully, yelling for the other four for a first aid kit.

You were carried to Starlo's house and you laid on his bed while the others either prepared bandages, or were panicking. While they did that, Starlo went into his room and sat on the side of the bed, watching you carefully as you took in small breaths.

'How... how did this happen?' He thought to himself as he brought his hand to your forehead, brushing away some of your hair out of your face. 'My poor deputy...'

He and the others already cleaned up and patched your wounds but most still had no bandages....

You were kinda just bleeding all over his bed...

After a few hours, the Feisty five patched up all your wounds. Starlo stayed by your side to keep an eye on your well-being. It's been days and you haven't shown any signs of waking up.

Before, Starlo was only worried and VERY SLIGHTLY panicking. After all, you were his one and only deputy, he knew you were strong.

But after days of seeing you still asleep, Starlo was now VERY VERY WORRIED and panicked 27/7 whenever he walked into his room and saw you still sleeping.

The others visited you every now and then. Each time, Starlo would complain to them. They would have to listen to Starlo's absolute panicked rants about "What if you never woke up?" "Were you in a coma?" "How long would you be asleep?" "Will all your wounds heal properly?" "You aren't eating and drinking as much- Will you be okay?"

Ed is refusing to panic, he's the one to keep telling Starlo that you'd be fine... There is a thought in the back of his head telling him that you won't.

Moray would sympathize with Starlo but say that worrying won't help much and that they should do what they can to make sure that you're still okay... She is worried that you might never wake up.

Ace is the most annoyed with this. I mean- You survived all four of them, and Starlo, you're pretty talented. There's no way you'd just stay down like that.......... right?

Mooch is just neutral with this. She does worry for you but she's not OVERLY worried. But while no one is looking she would whisper, "Please don't die. I don't want my partner in crime to get caught....... But if you do, at least wake up and sign all your inheritance to me."

After a few more days, you finally woke up. You wondered why your body felt so heavy and warm. You were shocked and embarrassed when you saw Starlo cuddling himself into your side.

You tried to recall what happened but you only remembered getting your ass kicked and running into Ed. You chuckled and raised your hand to Starlo's head before patting it.

Knowing him, he probably stayed by your side the whole time you were asleep. But for how long, you didn't know.

After a while, Starlo finally woke up. When he saw you looking down at him, patting his head, he immediately went wide eyed and hugged you tight. You laughed before hugging him back.

"Don't laugh at me, Partner! You've been out for days!" Starlo grabbed you by your shoulders and brought your head to his chest. Starlo kept telling you how much you worried him, how much he missed you, and how you should NEVER GO ANYWHERE NEW WITHOUT EITHER HIM OR ONE OF THE OTHER FOUR.

The next few hours were spent with Starlo constantly worrying over you, telling you that you should always be with him so that you wouldn't get hurt. You appreciated it.

Starlo was your best friend ever since you came to the underground. Dare you say that you kind of have a crush on him. He's caring and sweet, able to protect you but trusts you can protect yourself, overprotective but respectful of your boundaries. He's..... everything you've been searching for.

By that I mean, you've read a lot of stories when you were younger. You've always loved the heroes because of their strong sense of justice. 'Starlo was just like them...' You thought and brought your hand to his face, caressing his cheek.

Starlo looked at you and blushed. "P-artner? Deputy!? [R-R-Reader]?" He stammered, embarrassed since you were caressing his appendages very gently. When you smiled up at him as well- Dear Asgore, Starlo thought he was going to pass out.

You were so small compared to him, and the way you were looking at him just made him want to kiss you right there... But... Are you okay with it..?

"Again, Sorry for making you worried." You apologized. You were going to stretch your arms but Starlo held your wrists in place, your hands remained on his cheeks and Starlo nuzzled into your hands. "You... Shouldn't have... Next time, I want you to stay by my side... okay, Partner?" Starlo looked away while nesting his head in your hands.

You chuckled and caressed his face more, making him smile at your delicate touch.

[enforcerrinzler]

/* not specifically one of the prompts from the captured meme, but inspired by it... Hope this works? --@not-that-dillinger */

Coming here turned out to be the worst of Ed's impulsive ideas, to date. Picking the lock on Flynn's arcade to go exploring? Bad impulsive decision number one. Sure, that was technically trespassing, but he was just looking around, no harm there, and that part of town had long since been abandoned, it wasn't like he was going to get caught.

In hindsight, getting caught there might have been the better outcome. Then he wouldn't have found the hidden basement, or The Computer. (And oh, wasn't that creepy. He still remembered his father's disembodied voice coming out of it. He'd had nightmares of it clear through middle school, he did not need that again.) He should have turned around and gone home, or to a bar or somewhere a reasonable person would go after a long day at the office, but no. Bad impulse decision number two: hacking into Flynn's computer. Again, technically illegal, but. Maybe he cold solve the mystery of where Flynn had disappeared to?

...And that had led directly to bad impulse decision number three: shooting himself with a high powered laser.

To his credit, Ed knew what the laser was. His father had ranted and raved about it in what seemed like fits of madness when Ed was young. But. Yeah, could have gone way worse.

Naturally, Ed's first instinct on finding himself in a strange new world was to go explore. He was used to being cautious, aware of his surroundings when he was out, and quickly realized someone was following him. He tried to lose them in the not-so-dark alleys of the glowing city, taking turns at random until--

--he'd turned a corner and came face to face with five others, all wearing masks, and realized he'd walked right into their trap. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was one of the programs throwing something small and round at him, and the thick white smoke it emitted.

...

He awoke in a cell, some time later. At first, he tried to just... sit and observe, figure out where he was, and who had captured him, and why.

Except, there wasn't much beyond the two guards posted at the end of the connecting hallway, and it didn't take long before his claustrophobia made him feel anxious.

"Hey!" he screamed at the guards. "Let me out!!!"

The guard made a gesture that Ed couldn't quite see, but could safely assume was rude.

Ed continued to scream at the guards, because there wasn't much else he could do. He may have been trapped, but they also stuck with him.

Except it turned out, the guards could do something about that, and one of them marched over opened the cell, and--

--Oh. They had staves.

Ed lay in his cell, some time later, out of breath and everything aching. He was certain he had a cracked rib, if not more. And a broken nose from the way it was bleeding.

And broken glasses.

It was some time later that Ed heard footsteps approaching his cell. Everything still hurt, but he hauled himself to his feet anyway. "Come back for round two, asshole?" he asked.

In response, the guard disabled the force field that enabled his cell, and shoved someone else inside.

Then they reactivated the force field, and walked away.

Ed sighed, and sank back down in his corner heavily. He eyed the blur of his fellow prisoner warily.

Rinzler hit the ground hard, barely managing to cover his helmet with his arms to avoid it getting even more damaged. One of the guards had decided to use Rinzler’s helmet as an emotional outlet after he had gotten a nasty hit in on one of them. Any assistive programming in their helmet was completely offline and the glass had multiple cracks with a few bits missing from the back as well.

Usually, Rinzler would have turned and grabbed the guard’s ankle before they could leave. Would have tackled the program and forced them to guide him to the exit or derezzed them with his claws if the guard refused. But it wasn’t just a shattered helmet and pounding head that was keeping Rinzler down. His captors had latched a bizarre mechanism over his disc and dock that made his whole body ache and every move just seemed to make the mechanism dig in even more. It was frustrating and humiliating beyond belief to be thrown into this cell like a helpless beta, they were supposed to be better than this. Not to fall for some poor young program that had been forced to act as bait. They should have seen through it. Rinzler swore to themself that they would derezz every single one of those who had done this.

When the blurry room finally stopped spinning Rinzler was just able to focus enough to hear the sound of ragged breathing above his own broken clicking purr. He wasn’t alone. The Enforcer looked up towards the sound, spying the blurry figure. They couldn’t see any bit of light on the figure that could indicate their alliance, in fact they couldn’t see any circuitry at all.

“Identify, program.” Rinzler shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position, keeping his gaze on the figure in case this was just another trap.

@not-that-dillinger

[miya-on-the-roof]

Rant about the finale (or the million reasons why I'm disappointed)

Spoilers alert so don't keep reading if you don't wanna see them.

Didn't see a lot of people disappointed with the finale for the same reasons as me so just gonna throw it out there: I am disappointed mainly because of how they portrayed Stede and his relationship with Ed.

First thing, I am NOT an Izzy fan. If anything I'm probably an Ed fan and I came to the show for the brilliant writing, the masterly use of comedy as a genre, and the unprecedented celebration of queerness in season 1. This means that I am not devastated by his death. BUT I am disappointed in their decision to kill him off. I saw David Jenkins' interview and discussion about how narratively it makes sense for him to die as a closure of the redemption arch and final consummation of Ed letting go of the old life. YET this show was never about structurally sound narrative, was it? The charm was always the characters' growth and how they embraced queerness - embraced themselves. And that theme was embodied by Izzy this season. I can see potential in him as a perfectly comic and beautifully queer character after his transformation but that potential died with him. It is abrupt, it is rushed, and it does not make any sense for the spirit of the show even when it makes sense for a symbolic narrative.

Second, the main thing - even though Stede is the lead character of the show, the finale does not treat him as one. From previous episodes we see a new side of him emerging. He was caught up in the rush, the same way Ed probably did so many years ago, and was unawarely soaking up some toxic masculinity even though it was because he pursued piracy as the ultimate means to release his queerness and find community. And there lies his new conflict with Ed: two people who love each other deeply but find themselves on different life paths. There was not really any conflict of interest that couldn't be solved but they needed time to figure things out. Stede needed a reality check, and he needed to understand Ed's "it's everything about fishing" - it's everything about how Ed was setting out to find a new identity, and how he fears that Stede is taking up his old path in misguided glory and will not come with him. And Stede needed to learn to respect Ed's choices even if it means they take different paths for a while, which also means that he needed to confront his own fear of incompetence, abandonment, loneliness, and rejection first (which hasn't really been addressed in this season yet). He needed to find confidence and faith - in his own identity and competence, and in Ed's love for him.

All this to say - he has a long way to go in his character development to justify resolving the conflicts in their relationship. Yet in the finale, he was not given any space or time to achieve the growth. We see him rushing through a plan of rescue with Zheng doing most of the work. We see him coming up with a plan to camouflage and escape the English, the portrayal of which did not show his wit or courage or anything profound about his character. Then we see him getting that happy ending with Ed, and somehow just... accepting giving up piracy, accepting Ed's change, accepting everything happily when he was clearly lost and confused before. And we were not given any explanation or portrayal of his inner conflicts. He, of all people, gets the least emphasis and character growth in the finale.

Again, I just see so much potential to really discuss the character's deeply-rooted psychological issues going to waste for the sake of a narrative structure. A happy ending is great but it's covering up so many unsolved tensions and conflicts - opportunities for character building - which would have been handled much more carefully (albeit in comedic style) in season one. Given that we might not get a season 3, this is worse than leaving me with a cliffhanger or temporary tragedy that makes sense for the character's path to growth.