#my mental image of you and relate to new people i meet or read about through lived experience

[vamptastic]

truly dgaf about traumadumping i do sometimes experience empathy (like, in the crying over a sad story form) but it probably won't go off unless you have an incredibly tragic story are visibly emoting and i already really like you. so it doesn't really stress me out. people talk about fucked up things in cavalier and humorous ways it's how we deal with things. i am not really emotionally phased by discussing most fucked up or personal things in my own life expect for one or two topics that will make me immediately break down, so like who am i to judge. also learning things about people is fun.

[blkkizzat]

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟐 (part 1)

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV/SA mentions (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, LOTS of teasing/foreplay, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 9.9 of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: I had no idea so many people would be this hyped for Part 2. No really, I'm shocked! But It gets real here peoples! Lots of smut and dark shit below so please read the content warnings! I don't want no crying in the mentions and DMs cause y'all should know how out of pocket I am by now and I took it there lmfao.

If you riding with me still Thank You for putting up with my OCD bullshit and for all the support, comments and reblogs on Part 1! y'all real asf & ilysm

Enjoy!

Previously:

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

☠

Sigh. 

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party. 

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso. 

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured. 

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter. 

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose. 

You rolled your eyes. 

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around. 

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you. 

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors. 

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry. 

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg. 

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’ 

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in. 

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed? 

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover. 

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over.  We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen. 

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces. 

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was. 

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor. 

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down. 

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.” 

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation. 

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!” 

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.  

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen. 

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least. 

He has some fucking nerve. 

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready. 

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back. 

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself? 

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze. 

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations. 

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool. 

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together? 

Even better. 

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade. 

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment. 

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean. 

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back. 

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face. 

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you. 

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup. 

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it. 

You were done. 

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you. 

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer. 

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand. 

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door. 

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone. 

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt. 

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight. 

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight. 

This made things even easier. 

Choso scanned the area for his next prey. 

Someone, anyone alone would do. 

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.  

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly. 

That is, until he got a good look at you. 

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before. 

Something had happened.  

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury. 

You were his prey. 

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime. 

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier. 

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything. 

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you? 

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you. 

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand. 

You could have killed Dean. 

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly. 

You were just thankful the first aid kid in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow. 

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone. 

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket. 

It was your only comfort at the moment. 

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it. 

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now. 

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you. 

How could you even face Choso in class next week? 

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone. 

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you. 

He looked as if he would devour you whole. 

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up. 

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face. 

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter. 

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out. 

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly. 

Shit, you were so horny. 

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum. 

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week. 

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him? 

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud. 

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit. 

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.” 

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm. 

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.  

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy. 

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body. 

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick. 

He wanted to fuck you. 

Badly. 

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time. 

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony. 

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.  

But who else could it be? 

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible. 

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell. 

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.    

☠                                                   

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!” 

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes. 

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response. 

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open. 

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard. 

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear altering you to the possible dangers below. 

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door. 

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges. 

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning? 

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty. 

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?” 

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den. 

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.” 

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?” 

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back. 

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.” 

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP. 

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.” 

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself. 

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.” 

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?” 

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision. 

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

No

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer. 

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected. 

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you. 

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly. 

Your head feels light. 

Your body feels light. 

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm. 

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.” 

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes. 

You couldn’t even think straight. 

What were you doing again? 

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears. 

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward. 

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud. 

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief? 

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded. 

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them. 

A child-like giggle resounds from you. 

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket. 

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess. 

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted. 

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another. 

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion your shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances. 

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods. 

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself. 

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs. 

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.” 

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip. 

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim. 

Were you going to die like this? 

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend Y/N?” 

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered. 

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now? 

Very. 

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs. 

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed pussy hard and slide against your lips. 

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood. 

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite. 

His soft leather covered thumb hooks past your lips to guide your mouth open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan. 

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself. 

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.  

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”  

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?” 

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it. 

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!” 

Choso smirked under the mask. 

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back. 

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.  

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit. 

“I-I w-wanted you too” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it.” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet but you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit. 

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back. 

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy. 

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers. 

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily. 

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you were naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides. 

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.  

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA. 

“S’fine.” You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric. 

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“..and get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?” 

He gave your ass harsh smack. 

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him. 

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned. 

Thinking was virtually impossible right now. 

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you. 

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

 “Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options. 

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans. 

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love. 

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!” 

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock. 

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected. 

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of top and frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely. 

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs were still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fell forward into the crook of his neck. 

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your perfect pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back. 

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase. 

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him. 

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth. 

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.  

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–” 

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides. 

You locked eyes with him. 

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness. 

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him. 

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?” 

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. 

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control. 

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you. 

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered. 

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you. 

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him. 

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you. 

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight. 

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?” 

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”  

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?” 

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?” 

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇ��ꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13 @strvqtt @wisteriaflowersss @spookyy-gracee @jujutsualy @anakalana @crying-person @missphanosaur18 @jazzmynerule @megatqistina @trobed1312 @mimiemie @insomninaz @bloodysweetcat @cyyberm00n @nikkitc0703 @briefrebelfanalmond (so sorry if I missed anyone but I'm delirious rn forgive me ily)

[pikatrainer99]

Kieran is autistic and you can't change my mind!

Okay, I KNOW that I'm not the only one who holds this headcanon...but I wanted to do an analysis on Kieran anyway, especially since my best friend @sinnohanvulpix said she'd love to see me do one. Credit to her for all the screenshots used btw. The GIFs on the other hand were either found on Google Images or created by me using gifrun.com and these YouTube videos:

I did not use my own footage for this at all...as proof here's what MY character in the game looks like...he has my real name but I tried to make him look like Orange which is why he has the orange eyes 😅

(Sorry for the bad quality btw...taking pictures of my Switch screen is hard 😅)

Okay, now without further ado, let's get started with the analysis!

First, Kieran has a CLEAR special interest in Ogerpon, he admires and looks up to her, he was obsessed with the story of the ogre, he was always trying to go to her den and meet her, he has a meltdown when Ogerpon chooses the player over him, etc. Carmine even says that Kieran "really really REALLY likes the ogre" and that made me think, "Ah! Special interest!"

And then at the end of the Teal Mask he gains a new special interest in getting stronger to beat the player...and he hyperfocuses HARD on that...to the point of it being detrimental to both his physical and mental health, as he was doing nothing but training during that time...he barely ate, barely slept, just trained...and that is not healthy. It's a rare example of media showcasing a special interest being unhealthy and absolutely CONSUMING one's life, and the consequences do actually show for it.

Kieran is very introverted and doesn't know how to make friends very well. I actually think the player is his first friend considering his surprised reaction when the player says they consider him a friend, and following this, he quickly becomes a bit...too attached to the player, as he doesn't quite understand how friendships work.

(This is also such a neurodivergent way to say "I'm so happy I finally have a friend")

He also struggles socially, as is a requirement for autistic people to qualify for a diagnosis. Kieran specifically has a hard time reading social cues, he struggles with making eye contact, he has clear anxiety when talking to people as proven by his little stutter he has at times.

(This is an adorable screenshot 🥺)

He also struggles with social and emotional processing (and might have alexithymia as well due to his sudden huge outbursts of emotion), and he also struggles with initiating conversation as well, as seen when he tries to talk to Penny at the League Club. They both have no idea how to even start a conversation with each other and it's honestly pretty adorable seeing the two quiet adorkable kids trying their best to hold conversation. I get it, you two, initiating conversation is really difficult for me too.

Also the way they try to start the conversation by talking about the weather...that's really funny and ironic to me because that's what NTs do all the time. NTs always use the weather as a small-talk conversation starter but NDs like me (and Kieran and Penny too apparently) just don't get that stuff.

(These two are so neurodivergent it's great and I love them both 🥺)

Kieran also has four in-game animations that I personally see as stimming. The first one is him tapping his fist against his hip when he's thinking or nervous.

(Focus your attention to his hand here and you'll see it.)

The second one is him playing with a strand of loose hair, usually when he's nervous.

(The little nervous side glance at the player is relatable and adorable 🥺)

The third one is a more agitated stim that he only does ONCE in the entire game...and that is tapping the front of his foot on the ground. I do that myself when I'm agitated or impatient, somehow it's comforting, especially since for some reason I really like the way my shoes sound when I tap them on the ground... especially since I got my brand new Infernape-themed shoes, they sound extra satisfying because they're brand new.

(This is not the way most people tap their foot...I've never seen an NT do it like this...only other NDs such as myself and one of my brothers)

The fourth and final one is, unfortunately, a stress stim...Kieran runs his hands very fast through his hair and it also looks like, to me anyway as someone who has self-injurious stims myself, that he is digging his nails into his scalp as well while doing that. I do something similar myself, though on top of running my hands through my hair and digging my nails into my scalp, I also pull at my hair...yeah... self-injurious stims are no joke...and I'm kinda glad Kieran's autism coding brings attention to that aspect of autism...at least in my eyes as someone who does those things myself.

(He's in so much stress here, poor kid 😔)

Another aspect of autism that I'm surprised and kinda glad that Kieran exhibits as an autistic-coded character is meltdowns and shutdowns. Kieran has actual meltdowns in the game! This is something we have never seen in such an in-your-face way in any Pokémon game, and as someone who regularly has meltdowns myself, it hit me in the feels whenever I saw him having them. His first meltdown is in the Teal Mask when he steals the Teal Mask and runs off to Loyalty Plaza where he battles the player. He yells at Carmine and the player for treating him like an outcast...which is unfortunately something that happens to a lot of autistic people, myself included. Kieran screams at the player and Carmine for for lying to him while doing his stress stim, before running up to the Lousy Three's shrine and punching it, without any regard for his safety, which is also something autistic people may do during meltdowns...I know I have no regard for my safety during mine. After that's all over he gives the mask back to the player and goes home, leaving the player to talk to Carmine alone, who says that she's worried and thinks it's just "teen angst". When I saw that I was like, "...Uh, Carmine...I don't think it's just that, I think your brother is neurodivergent and really needs a lot of help and support because he's struggling a lot right now..."

His second meltdown is also in the Teal Mask, when he wants Ogerpon to go with him but Ogerpon wants to go with the player...Kieran can't process that and doesn't understand how to take Ogerpon's feelings into account, instead demanding the player to battle him for the right to be Ogerpon's partner. He collapses on all fours after being defeated again, and it gets worse...he looks like he's crying while the player battles Ogerpon in order to catch her. After the player catches her, Kieran wonders why he can't be like the player, and runs off crying, locking himself in his room for the rest of the story. The end of the Teal Mask has him doing his stress stim while being consumed by a new special interest in a very detrimental way...that interest being becoming so strong that no one can defeat him...including the player.

Kieran's third meltdown is in the Indigo Disk, after the player defeats him in the championship match. That meltdown is a full-on cutscene, where it is CLEAR to see his spiraling mental state through the visuals, and he holds his hands on his head like he has a headache while trying to process the fact that he lost to the player AGAIN (which is also relatable as someone who struggles with processing difficulties myself...it really does give headaches and it is one of the worst feelings when I just can't process what's going on around me or the emotions I feel or anything really)...he collapses to his knees and looks like he's breathing very hard as he is so upset and distressed at this loss. It is definitely one of the most heartbreaking scenes for me because this is a CLEAR CUT MELTDOWN in my eyes and it hits me in the feels like a TRUCK to watch that cutscene.

Also, in the Terapagos fight, Kieran has a bit of a shutdown for a bit, standing there frozen, thinking he's useless and can't do anything right (which is relatable as I have regular shutdowns as well, and I also constantly feel like I'm a failure of a human being who can't do anything right)...but let me tell you, when the player finally gets him to snap out of it and convinces him to help and he opens his eyes revealing that the light is back in his eyes as well as visible tears...I cheered (and teared up myself). My boy was back, and I was so happy.

(When I first saw the tears I was like, "NOOOO don't cry Kieran! 😢)

Also in the Indigo Disk, Kieran seems completely different and "no longer like his usual self". His autistic traits are (mostly) nowhere to be seen as he becomes much more serious, angry, assertive,and aggressive. I personally see this as a persona he puts on by masking, which is common for autistic people to do. I myself can't mask, but Kieran definitely seems to be masking here by putting on this persona in order to get stronger and seem stronger as a person as well. This is NOT his real self, this is a FACADE!

We see him start to drop the mask again in Area Zero when he says it seems like they're in a spy movie or something and how cool that is, but once the crack in his mask is pointed out he immediately puts it back on.

After everything in the under depths ends, and you go back to Blueberry Academy, he drops the mask again completely, and goes back to his real, adorkable, relatable self...and stays that way from then on, which made me so relieved and happy.

(This is my favorite cutscene in the entire DLC because of how adorable it is and also how neurodivergent Kieran is being here while apologizing for all he did 🥺)

In conclusion, I think Kieran is a great example of an autistic-coded character who has many relatable traits, and also does a good job showcasing some of the more "unpleasant and challenging behaviors and traits" (NTs use that terminology a lot, not me... that's how NTs unfortunately view NDs a lot of the time) of autism. I used to be afraid of him during the post-Teal Mask pre-Indigo Disk era but that was my trauma and PTSD talking (I talked about the emotional rollercoaster Kieran's story arc took me on in another post from last year after I finally worked up the courage to play the Indigo Disk...feel free to check that out too if you'd like). Now though I can wholeheartedly say that I love and appreciate Kieran a lot as a character, and his relatability is definitely a big part of why he is a big comfort character for me now (please Pokémon put him in Pokémon Masters EX, PLEASE I will literally cry from joy if he gets added to the game)!

Hope you all enjoyed this autistic person's analysis of yet ANOTHER autistic-coded character in Pokémon! I know I had A LOT to say but that just proves how relatable Kieran is, and I love him for that. Let me know what you think and if I missed anything in the comments below!

[tarotenvelhecida]

pick a card– your next (platonic or romantic) love

"It's pouring, the trees are getting greener before my eyes, I love you. I'm almost afraid of the intensity of this happiness." — Vladmir Nabokov, Letters to Véra.

Whether a friend, a lover, a companion – platonic or romantic – who is going to love you next? who are you loving next?

1. THE FIRST.

A young woman or a girl, maybe younger than you - or at least seems to be.  This is definitely a platonic relationship, something that has been going on for a few lifetimes already. Quiet, almost melancholic. Tired all the time. Water sign; Cancer or Scorpio. “Weird little girl” vibes, but has the mentality of a 90-year-old grandmother. Likes reading or is just generally smart, almost crossing the line to “a little bit cunning”. The type of friend that doesn’t like going out of the house; a good listener, loyal to a fault. You two will end up very close friends. Probably the youngest of the friend group, someone who everyone is extremely protective of. Introvert. Sensitive, intuitive. Been through a lot.

If you’re pregnant, planning to be or considering adopting, this might even reference a future child. For people who have no interest in having children themselves, there’s a possibility of this being about a future sister, a niece, someone from your family or related to someone you consider family. 

Words associated with both this pile and this person are — Melancholy. Knowledge. Guidance. Magic. Fate. Water. Beach. Rain, summer thunderstorms. Butterfly. Lamb. The moon. 

2. THE SECOND.

A man around your age, maybe just a few years older than you. Trustworthy, calm. The lighthouse in the middle of a sea storm, a beacon of cold light. Earth or fire sign. For most of you, this is going to be a fraternal relationship - to others it will end up romantic. Might also be a relevant past life connection.

He might be a teacher, a lawyer, a writer. Has high standards, prides himself on working hard. Honest, but compassionate. Might appear aloof or distant sometimes - a little bit boring. Has the tendency to bury himself on his job or hobbies. Likes to be alone; an introvert, with a tendency for isolation. He resembles a pine tree, standing tall, watching the world both grow and die around him. 

Words associated with both this pile and this person — Glasses. Magnifying glass. Winter. Fireplace. Smoke. The coldness of burning. Ink. 

3. THE THIRD.

A woman - a butterfly, the type that lives just one day; but lives either way. You two might have a platonic or romantic relationship, depending on who you are. She’s an ambivert, with strong Leo and Capricorn vibes. She feels like a comfortable Café, like the throes of a warm affection, fondness, dripping gold. 

Fiercely loyal to all of her friends, capable of being almost apologetic. Probably has some unhealthy tendencies regarding relationships and understanding boundaries, though is not inherently malicious. Likes meeting new people and hanging out in calm, family-like places. 

Might be an artist, a painter, someone that enjoys doing things with her hands. Other people may see her as lazy, but, really, she just enjoys life and enjoys doing nothing but that. I have the image of a cat basking on the sun coming from the kitchen window. And The Caterpillar, from Alice in Wonderland. A true wild heart.

Words associated with both this pile and this person — Gold. Summer. Warmhearted. Lion. Laughter. Sand. Garden. Hands. Secrets. Breeze. Fondness.

[harvey-brainrot]

Obligatory Intro

Hiii I'm Viva! I'm a 20 year old autistic FREAK who has been totally in love with Harvey since I started playing Stardew in like 2019. My pronouns are primarily she/it but overall you can use whatever pronouns you like :)

I'm gonna use this blog to post about all things Harvey related! Fanart (all reblogged bc I can't draw lmao), imagines, headcanons, rambles, etc etc. I'll gladly take requests too! SOME POSTS WILL BE NSFW but I'll be sure to tag them. Maaaaaybe I'll make posts about other characters here and there but overall this blog will be centered around my favorite pathetic boyfail doctor

Nice to meet you, everyone! If you ever want to talk to me, feel free, but please know that I'm really shy around new people so try to be patient with me

Below I'll talk about my farmersona a bit just for funsies :3 totally don't have to read it though! The stuff above is what's most important

Meet My Farmersona!

Aka me but cooler

(Portrait was made + slightly edited using Poltergeister & Jaz's Portrait Maker. Pet images are used from Otter's Pet Mod 2.0)

Some additional info for funsies:

Getting around on horseback? No. Detachable roller skates

Her dog, Angel, is either a newfoundland or a saint bernard. I haven't decided yet

Despite her colorful appearance, she's really introverted and anxious

That being said, once you get her to open up, she's a professional yapper. There is no off switch. Sorry

An absolute horror fanatic. She's been watching horror movies, reading horror stories, and playing horror games for as long as she can remember

Bonus: About Harviva

Some additional info for funsies:

They might have some noticeable conflicting traits, but overall their similarities bring them close together. Such as their social awkwardness, their deep passion for their respective niche interests, their fondness for history and old films, enjoying the smaller things in life, and so on

Viva never forces Harvey to watch horror movies with her, but sometimes he'll try to watch them with her for her sake. Always ends with him cowering in Viva's arms

Viva brings excitement into Harvey's life, while Harvey brings stability into Viva's life. Both things that they desperately need

They're both totally useless when it comes to romance. It's not that they don't do anything nice for each other — that couldn't be farther from the truth — they just get super flustered trying to carry their acts of romance out. Losers

Harvey was a little scared of Viva at first. She's not intimidating per se, but he did think that she was going to be a very loud and reckless party-loving person. Reckless? Sometimes. But a few conversations with her made him realize that she's actually really chill and usually matches the energy of whoever she's talking to. She also probably confessed to him at one point that she spends an ungodly amount of time making mental scripts for social interactions to keep from making a fool of herself and Harvey was like "oh wow she's just like me"

[daenerysstormreborn]

Hi @lawonderlandwriter

I can’t reply because this is side blog. Question: did you read my post? Did you read the response I gave to someone’s thoughtful reply full of good information I didn’t know? Have you looked at my blog? My Daenerys themed blog that’s existed for months in which I am unabashedly a Dany fan? You may notice that I am a Jonerys shipper who hates the way their romance played out. You may notice that I don’t like Jonsa. You may notice my posts criticizing a lot of bullshit anti-Dany talking points.

This is me. Five years ago. With my $400+ costume tailored to fit me, with my $100+ lace front wig, with my $100+ custom-made 3D printed chain. I was a show only for a long time and hated the way it ended but resisted reading the books because the things that happened to Dany were so horrible and I loved her so much I didn’t want to read them in a more detailed perspective. I only changed my mind because HotD re-invigorated my interest in the series and my mental health is better now so I thought I could handle it. I loved the books so much more than the show that the I had to make a tumblr blog about it. And I chose to make it Daenerys themed.

This is also me. 6 years ago. Trying to painstakingly recreate a Daenerys-like hairstyle in my hair (which is hard when you have a normal human amount of hair and not a Hollywood wig).

Here’s me again, 4 years ago. And how about this album of images from the past few weeks that I’ve generated using an AI app of myself as Daenerys, for no reason other than that I love her and relate to her and like to see myself as her?

This is a considerable amount of devotion across many years for a fake Daenerys fan. And for what? To what end? To rile people up on tumblr dot com? Does that make sense? That I’d make tons of posts defending Daenerys and funnel hundreds of dollars into cosplay and maintain a Daenerys themed blog just …because? I am a PhD student who just finished my Master’s. I do not have time to host a performative fan blog for shits and giggles. Not did I have the foresight to start my performance offline six years ago just so I could infiltrate the ranks of Daenerys fans online.

Seriously. Read my post. Read my response to the reblog on my post. And consider that “I love this character and don’t want her to be a villain but have trouble believing that such a big change in her character could have just been an invention of the showrunners” is not a hateful stance. Someone else pointed out that the Starks and Lannisters are also called threats and if you have a look, you’ll see that I think that’s a great point and respond with gratitude and intrigue when the information is presented without hostility. If you bother to check, you’ll also see that I have walked back my stance and now find it much more believable that D&D invented villain Dany because I have been given new information. Of course, you aren’t required to check the notes of a post to see things like this before engaging. But when you’re going to accuse them of being a fake fan and meet them with hostility, you really, really should do a bit more investigation first.

When you reply to a post, you are directly engaging with another human being. If I had made a brief hateful post, things would be different and I wouldn’t have a right to be snappy about it. But you came onto a thoughtful post about the character my blog is themed after and decided to be rude instead of considering what I had to say and giving me the benefit of the doubt, and I can’t abide by that.

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

what kind of science fiction does emo beatrice/1930s au beatrice tend to write? is it “oh no! aliens!/oh no! creatures!” ala war war the of worlds and like, godzilla

dystopias like 1984 & episodes of black mirror, humans doing fucked up stuff that comes to bite them in the ass aka frankenstein and like every 1960s sci fi film about some giant creature that came about because of nuke bombs (which were pratically all the films then it seems), Weird Shit Happens ala the twilight zone, Exploring Them Oceans, Exploring Them Earth, or Exploring the depths of the earth ala journey to the center of the earth

Woag, space, ala more star trek esque stuff (spef tos), boom bam in space ala more star wars esque stuff? Normal people with normal problems but in sci fi settings! Among Us? (Side note that gave me the mental image of jonty in an among us costume thx to ava who convinced beatrice to let her dress him up via them puppy dog eyes and now i’m laughing my ass off.

semi related do you think beatrice would be the type to have a bunch of random & obscure dog merch? feel like she isn’t, that’s more ava’s thing, and ava’s thing is more on weird ass clothes for the dog that she deems cute, but i feel like beatrice probably has the occasional impulse buy or something that in hindsight was either stupid and/or the dog didn’t like collecting dust in her attic or something

((pls tell me beatrice has had the often universal pet owner experience of buying something more expensive than usual only for that money to just go to waste as the pet is near apathetic and likes something cheaper. i’m in hysterics imagining beatrice being Extra MopeyTM because she got some new relatively expensive dog food that was highly recommended by dog owners & vets w a bunch of Nutritional Benefits and she was excited to gift it to jonty, only for jonty to just sniff at the food, not touch a morsel of it and then whine that he didn’t get his usual birthday bone))

but i feel like beatrice might have like, a bunch of pictures of her dog and/or her & the dog, maybe even a whole album for them, and beatrice might have like a bunch of silly and/or matching pictures, like taking a picture in one of these type things, etc etc

Great questions.

I think (unsurprisingly) Beatrice would be suuuuper influenced by H.G. Wells and definitely Shelley. The sci-fi she writes would be along the lines of what if the world was the same as it is now except for this one fucked up thing or like The protagonist meets this one character or thing that changes them and flips their world on its head.

Her novels were probably verging on social satire and were inspired heavily by the war. She retaliated against her upbringing through her books. her father was absolutely Oxbridge educated and had a lot of books/subscribed to literary journals so Beatrice had a lot of material as a kid.

(The more... ahem frowned upon books she had to source herself. she definitely read Flowers of Evil and Carmilla etc and was left feeling very 123?!!13XZSDVFGH4????!!!1f?? by them. Also definitely read The Well of Loneliness and hated it a little bit.)

Short stories like The Croquet Player and A Dream of Armageddon were a reference point for her early writing probably. (she definitely had a wild time reading the time machine, as did I) Themes around Duty vs Love etc are just very very Avatrice so A Dream of Armageddon felt very them. It was sort of like what if Avatrice chose to leave together instead of fight etc and rejected their responsibilities in favour of being together and unbothered and in love and ran away back to Switzerland (but in the story it's Capri) idk it just made me think of that a little bit.

I imagine one of her more popular novels would be something about the intersection between religion and Science and some sort of reconciliation and/or divide between the two. Like maybe a new theory/invention/revelation that seemingly disproves a major theological belief, a la Ted Chiang's 'Omphalos' except in 1930 lol. Idk I'm not about to write an entire novel inside of this fan fic. Or am I... probably not,,, but who knows??? (not me).

I don't think Bea would hem herself in too much though. So there'd totally be weirder more experimental books the older she got (and the more comfortable she got in being a bit weird). Overall she'd lean more towards speculative/dystopian fiction rather than full-blown Star Trek-type sci-fi. Like, imagine how fucked up we can be as opposed to how fucked up things from outer space can be.

In regards to the pet tangent:

Beatrice has a million comfy dog beds for Jonty but (a lot like my own dog) he sleeps on none of them, much preferring cardboard boxes, people's shoes, or the windowsill. The Cardinal (Beatrice's cat) appreciates the beds though.

Jonty is far too wriggly to be still enough to have his picture taken/be put in clothes. The Cardinal on the other hand is perpetually :| and chill with everything so Ava would probably convince Bea to spend money on buying a camera or paying for professional pictures of him like these:

Beatrice would scoff but then, a few days later, would have them framed and put up.

This hc spiralled a bit but god was it fun. Thanks as always for the great question/thoughts.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 6

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mainly fluffy, brief mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: this was probably the most fun chapter for me to write so far it just came out so cute and sweet i think!! also super sorry all my energy has been focused on this fic i haven’t written many other one shots or anything i just really am getting into this story!)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you woke up the next day, something new was in the air. Everything felt lighter, a bit more relaxed. You actually felt refreshed for what seemed like the first time in your life. As dramatic as it sounds, it was unreal. 

You sat up in bed, taking in the morning without the dread. Sure, prior to your dream last night there were bits of chaos still lurking. You couldn’t ignore it and it certainly was not going to go away overnight but everything had shifted, and you could at least appreciate what lulled you to sleep. 

You sighed, almost looking off into a daydream like a lovestruck school girl. You had seen Bucky in such a normal fashion just sitting in his bed reading. You didn’t know when exactly the memory had been from but that didn’t matter. It was something without violence, it was a real look at him. He was so content as he focused on the book...

But you didn’t have the time to sit around pondering about your soulmate’s hobbies forever. You still had a life to get on with. 

Despite your body’s reluctance, you lugged yourself out of bed and started getting your work uniform together. There was a bit of pep in your step, a complete contrast to just a few weeks ago when you were pulling yourself around holding on to the last bit of will you had. It was insane what one meeting with a soulmate could do. Maybe you now understood everyone’s fuss over it.

You redid your hair and touched up your makeup before packing your bag for the day. Once your sneakers were on and you felt actually good (the most glorious feeling, you thought), you headed out your apartment door. 

As you were making your way down the stairs, you noticed someone was waiting by the building’s entrance. You rarely ever saw people around the space so the figure stunned you a bit. As you walked closer, though, you recognized that shoulder-length brown hair.

“Bucky?” You said, surprised, as you opened the lobby door. He turned around, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Good morning.” He spoke so casually as if he always stood outside your apartment waiting for you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, suddenly worried his presence here wasn’t as cheery as he was leading on.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I just came to walk you to work if that’s okay.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Walk me to work? W-Why?”

Bucky shifted his stance slightly as if suddenly embarrassed. “Because I think that’s something that, uh… that…”

“Soulmates,” you said, finishing his sentence. Bucky looked relieved at that. “That’s something soulmates do?”

He chuckled at the little smirk you were giving him. Your heart felt so full at the thought of Bucky wanting to walk you to work, make sure you got there safe and everything. Maybe even check out the area where you spent most of your days. 

“You can say no, of course.”

You shook your head. “I’m flattered you want to walk me.”

At your acceptance, Bucky extended his elbow for you to take. You giggled as your hand wrapped around his arm and you two began on the route. You were too giddy to look back up at Bucky, even though you could feel him sneaking glances at you, so you turned your attention to his arm. Surprisingly, it was the metal one he had offered to you. While most of it was covered by the sweater he wore, his hand was still peaking out of the sleeve. You stared down at it, curiously, watching the light bounce off the material and listening to the little groans it made as his fingers moved every now and then. 

“It’s not going to hurt you,” Bucky said suddenly, making you jump. You quickly pulled your gaze away, opting instead to look up at him. Your heart sank at the tinge of worry behind his eyes. 

You shook your head as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I didn’t think it would,” you confessed, honestly. “I just think it’s interesting.”

He hummed, unsure. “Interesting?”

A sudden uneasiness fell over you as you found yourself maybe crossing lines now. Sure, you had seen here and there in the nightmares what the arm had done, but you also could see that wasn’t what it was doing right now. Right now it wasn’t a weapon, a danger. It was a guide for you, physically bringing you a tad bit closer to your soulmate. 

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. You had to choose your words carefully, you thought. “I don’t have to tell you this but it’s unlike anything else out there. It’s powerful. Seems very strong, as well. Probably… Probably has seen a lot but you extended it towards me showing you’re at least a little comfortable with it,” A pause. “I-I don’t think it defines you if that’s what you’re worried about, despite how it’s -- how you -- have been weaponized.”

Bucky didn’t respond at first, making your heart plummet. Had you actually burnt this entire thing down in less than twenty-four hours? You two fell into silent steps as you continued your path to work.

As you rounded a corner, just when you were about to spontaneously tell him it was okay if he never wanted to see you again, Bucky finally spoke up.

“Have you seen the things I’ve done?”

“I’ve read some articles-,”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You brought yourself to a stop on the sidewalk. Bucky halted beside you and shook off your grip. You frowned at the action but didn’t acknowledge it any further. 

“I don’t think it matters what I’ve seen,” you said, a bit of confidence finally mustered up in your tone. It was true, too. Over the past few hours, you hadn’t seen anything from the nightmares that aligned with the actual Bucky in front of you. “We can discuss this another time but I promise you, Bucky, I’m only focusing on what I see right now. Right now I see a man who voluntarily woke up at a ridiculous hour just so he could surprise me and walk me to work. It’s incredible.”

Bucky’s eyes were faintly glossing over, threatening to cry. You didn’t know what to do other than take his hand, intertwining your touch with his metal one. He accepted it, wordlessly. With a nod, you got back on your walking route to the shop. 

“Thank you, doll,” Bucky said just above a whisper. You nearly missed it. Your heart did somersaults as you registered the words.

You two fell into more silence until you decided you needed to lighten the mood. You weren’t letting him drop you off at work like this. 

“Now,” you said, clearing your throat as your own tears had just about formed, “how did you spend the rest of your night?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing crazy,” he sighed. “I did some reading before bed.”

“Hmm.” Your interest had been peaked. You thought back to the little dream you had last night, portraying a very studious Bucky. You figured that while it was recent, it wasn’t from last night (dreams rarely ever came through that quick), making you now curious of his reading choices. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have taken you for a reader. What’s the book about?”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Some new science fiction series Steve picked up for me,” Bucky explained. “I’m not too far into it but I think it has something to do with time traveling.”

You nearly laughed. You thought back to how the nightmares you had been getting recently were all over the place as if you were on your own time-traveling journey -- only it was the cruelest way possible. Fate was such a character. 

“Is that the kind of books you prefer? Science fiction?”

Bucky nodded, “Guess I’ve always been interested in all that science stuff.”

That science stuff. You giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “I’ve fallen a bit out of reading but I’d love to get your recommendations one day.”

“I’m not exactly well versed in all the books out there.” Because he had missed so much -- there was always that unspoken fact in every other thing he said. You wished you could coax him out of that habit but that didn’t seem possible right now. I

“Well, good thing I’m not looking to know about all the books,” you smiled, looking up at him, “I’m just looking to know about your books. Whatever comes across your radar that you end up loving, I’d like to hear about it.”

Bucky returned the smile. “What did you do with the rest of your night?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged, turning your focus back to the sidewalk ahead of you. “I fell asleep pretty much right after getting home.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From the corner of your vision, you could see a bit of a frown on his lips. 

“You didn’t do anything?”

You shook your head.

“No hobbies or anything?”

You sighed. “I’m usually just too tired or too into work to do very much. Last night had been… Overwhelming for me, I think. When it was over, I was exhausted. All of me, body and mental.”

You felt Bucky’s thumb start rubbing soothing patterns on the back of your hand. Your breath caught a bit in your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for you to get overwhelmed.”

You began shaking your head profusely, “No, no, it’s not your fault, Bucky,” you insisted, “I psyched myself out a bit, I think.”

He let out a long sigh at that. “Well, you shouldn’t do that anymore,” he said, so sincerely. “I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

“We do?” You looked up at him but he had already turned away. “Oh, you mean what soulmates do.”

“The word still gets caught on the tip of my tongue.”

Your cheeks started feeling hot. “I understand.”

As the conversation faded, your coffee shop came into view. You two stopped outside it. Glancing in the window, you made eye contact with your coworker who had just begun setting up for the day. Her eyes got wide as she realized who the man was behind you. Her shock promptly morphed into excitement.

You turned back to Bucky. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

He flashed you a smile, making your heart just absolutely dissolve. “Of course,” he said. “Anyday, anytime. I’d be happy to accompany you anywhere.”

You were shamelessly full-on blushing, once again feeling like a ridiculous school girl. You had to avert your gaze as Bucky’s eyes on you were making you feel all sorts of things in these fluffy moments. 

With a pointless nod and no more words, you turned to face the coffee shop entrance. One hand on the handle, you stood there. Just holding it. You could hear Bucky walking away. 

Fuck it, you thought. 

You quickly turned back around and dashed to catch up with him. He was walking so leisurely as if he expected this. You called out his name and he whipped around promptly, looking as if he was fighting back another smile. 

“Here,” you said as you grabbed a napkin and pen from your bag and scribbled down your phone number. “It’s my number in case you want to, I don’t know, text me or call or something.” 

He took the napkin gently as if it was the most precious gem in the world seconds away from shattering. With a nod, Bucky responded, “Sure, doll. Thank you.”

You smiled, giving him a nod back. That wasn’t all, though. You had another caution to throw into the wind. Quickly, you placed your hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was so fast you barely had time to register your own movement but Bucky definitely picked up on it. Now his face was the one with a tinge of warm color coming up on it.

“Have a good shift.” It was all Bucky seemed capable of saying as he shot you a wider smile, eyes softening at your nervous form. Before you could respond anymore, prolonging this weird but sweet goodbye for the day, he resumed his walk back. 

As feelings of all sorts washed over, you headed back to the coffee shop where you finally entered… And was greeted by your coworker standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed, staring you down.

“Good morning,” you said, avoiding eye contact and trying to get around her. She stepped in your path.

“Was that…” You nodded before she could finish the words. She broke out into a surprise fit of giggles. “You met him?” She asked in disbelief. 

You nodded. “Last night. We had dinner and he walked me home. It was very nice.” You kept it short and sweet, not feeling like gossiping about something so fresh. But you also secretly wanted to just throw everything out there. It was exciting, it was new. Overall, though, it felt great. 

Your coworker let out gasps, almost in awe. “That’s so exciting,” she said. “Is he, like, nice? Anything like-,”

You shook your head quickly, making her cut off her words. “He’s nothing like…” You didn’t want to say them anymore. Well, at least for right now. You knew a talk with Bucky about it all had to be coming but you want to push it aside for now. “He’s wonderful. A true gentleman. He showed up this morning to walk me to work. What man nowadays would do that?” You chuckled, almost in your own state of disbelief. “Plus, he’s kind of fascinating. Unexpected, even. Would you have guessed he’s a reader?”

You made your way farther into the shop, discarding your bag and throwing on an apron. You began wiping down the counters as your coworker followed. 

“He sounds almost… normal?”

You stopped your movement, taking in that observation. You finally nodded in agreement. Yeah, you guessed that so far he was kind of normal. At least, personality-wise. 

After a moment you said, “I think I’m glad I didn’t try to move on.”

Despite not looking at her, you knew your coworker wore another ridiculous, lovey smile. She was practically in awe and, you had to admit, you kind of were, too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist under construction right now, deepest apologies!

[phoenixyfriend]

I never understood the problem of aging up characters to ship.

I understand why it could be squicky.

If someone tried to show me erotic fanart of, say, aged-up Powerpuff Girls, I wouldn't be able to process it without being grossed out because I still mentally view them as kindergarten age. I don't engage with regular fandom enough for my mind to have a conceptualization of them as adults.

Meanwhile, characters from, say, Naruto? I grew up with those characters, to some extent, and their epilogue features their adult selves. My mind has no trouble conceptualizing them as adults because my mind still goes "these characters are my age" like they did when I was sixteen(?) and first getting into the series, because in Shippuden, they were, and in all the fanworks, they were. As I got older, I focused on different kinds of fanfic, and preferred college AUs over high school AUs, and my mental image of the characters shifted, so even though I'd technically been introduced to these characters as twelve-year-olds.

EDIT: this is going under a cut because it's barely coherent.

But if you try to give me smut about Lucy Pevensie or Yachiru Kusajishi or something, I'll give you a "no thank you" and back out even if they're aged up, because my mind can't process that.

Also like.

Nobody has a static sense of self. People don't stop reading Anidala fic because we happened to first meet them as a 9yo and 14yo respectively. If TCW Anakin traveled back in time and met 14yo Padme again, it would be gross for him to hit on her, and he'd recognize that, but the reverse is also true; if TCW Anakin time-jumped to, say, a point where he's the same age as Jango... it would not be gross, at least in terms of age, for them to hit on each other, even if original timeline Jango was over twice Anakin's age at Geonosis. The fact that we once knew Anakin as a child, or that he was a child when Jango was not, isn't really relevant, because they never really met and had no preexisting relationship when they had different ages. Just knowing a person used to be a child, especially when you do know them as an adult (Ahsoka is an adult in Rebels and the Mandalorian, so it's not even really aging-up at that point, just time travel), doesn't mean they're forever off-limits to the brain for shipping.

Knowing that a character exists at multiple ages, and that they change how they interact with the world and vice versa in relation to that age, is like... basic textual understanding. If you read enough college AUs, you develop a mental image of the character as a young adult, even if their canon maxes out at teenagerhood (I'm thinking Pidge from Voltron). You don't see the child version from canon in your mind, you see that future/AU version that is an adult, and pays taxes, and has student loans, and can legally order a beer.

Kanan/Hera is canon and not considered a problem even though the audience met both of them as kids in TCW, yeah? They used to be kids, and now they're not, and if we toss one of them into a time-travel fic where their contemporaries are like... Jaster Mereel and Qui-Gon Jinn or something, then it's reasonable that, should they want a new romance, they seek out someone their physical and mental age. Waiting for people their own age to be born decades down the line would be weird, and gross, because they'd be like forty or fifty years older than those individuals.

Age changes! It's not a problem to process that characters change as their age does. Characters getting thrown through time is a classic trope, and adjusting things for age isn't actually a moral dilemma.

Hell, an IRL rite of passage for a lot of married couples is when your spouse's parents show you baby pictures of said spouse. "Sorry babe, I can't fuck you anymore because your mom showed me a photo of you as a toddler, it's weird now, we need a divorce!" said presumably almost nobody ever.

[shoichee]

hello! may i ask some tips about the instragram acccunts the GoM + kagami could have? like of sort of post, amount of followers, stuff like that THANK U and have a great day !!

THIS IS ACTUALLY HILARIOUS SINCE I BREATHE OFF OF INSTAGRAM LFMAO

[Headcanons]

Kuroko Tetsuya

HELP WHAT IF HE HAS NO PRESENCE ON SOCIAL MEDIA TOO—

professional lurker

never comments on anything unless it’s to congratulate under a friend’s post or something like that

probably started using it because Ogiwara moved from letters and texts to just... instagram (technology advancements, jazz hands)

his account is on private, and he only lets people he knows follow him

all of his posts are pictures to commemorate something or just really wholesome group pictures

DEFINITELY has that picture of the GoMs at his birthday OVA

DEFINITELY also posted the big birthday picture taken at the end of the party

and also had typed very sappy BIG paragraph captions for both of these posts, talking about the journey and him being grateful… y’know, him being him

HIS ENTIRE COMMENT SECTIONS ARE JUST EVERYONE SOBBING AND KEYBOARD SPAMMING??? ONLY LIKE MIDORIMA AND AKASHI POST COHERENT RESPONSES UNDERNEATH

@kiseryouta: kuROKOCCHIIIII!!NEJWIEISK

@momoiowo: TETSUU (ʃƪ˘･ᴗ･˘) YOURE SO SWEET REEEE

@a_daikiii: i stg quit being so corny no one died yet🙄 and @momoiowo relax smh

@shin_chan77: I suppose I can express some form of gratitude for being in my life despite you being a blood type A. (insert a giant paragraph after this)

@4k4shi: This was very touching to read, Kuroko. I’m very glad that our… (insert him going down memory lane)

Murasakibara has no comment LMAO

his entire Seirin team are his hype men under his posts

his profile picture is literally the gray default blank head because he didn’t even set up a profile picture for himself

he has like 20 followers max or something?

8 posts? like, he only posts on special occasions or big events

his occasional stories are always comprised of Nigou and blurry Kagami pictures/videos running away from Nigou UH OH (courtesy of @dust-of-fandoms)

@tetsuya11 for his user handle

@dust-of-fandoms JUST MADE AN INSTAGRAM FOR HIM HERE!!

Kise Ryota

uses his instagram account as a portfolio for his modeling career

majority of his posts are actually pictures he managed to snag from his frequent model shoots

it looks SO professional… but then you look at his IGTVs and his reel videos

his reels are either short clips of mini vlog series he does whenever he visits the GoMs or when he’s recording his Kaijō teammates doing tricks and dunks

his IGTVs are either skincare tutorials, fashion advice… or just… unexplainable, out-of-context shitposts of Kise running away from what fans assumed “a green-haired man” or some “captain”

follower account?? 124k

who wouldn’t resist a hot model?

DEFINITELY HAS A TIKTOK I CAN FEEL IT

@kiseryouta with an official verification next to it

people either love him or hate him

posts a casual selfie from time to time, and people praise him for “being real” LMAODOA AND HE’S JUST STARING AT HIS PHONE LIKE “??? IMIG BUT I JUST FELT CUTE TODAY”

his captions feel fake LMAO like: “Wow! today’s so pretty today!” as he puts a selfie post OR “What’s your favorite game?✨” under a professionally-shot model picture that does not correlate with the caption???

has posted shitposts on his stories and his fans are utterly confused… only the GoMs get it LMAO

Midorima Shintarou

ONLY reason why he has social media is because Takao convinced him that he could let everyone know the daily lucky items for each signs for every post he makes

so for the first 2 months of having instagram he just casually posts a “daily horoscope” report(?) for the day

his content attracted in all the astrology fans and people who are devoted to tarots

and he’s CONFUSED.

… Takao may or may not have played a hand in messing with the algorithms to expose his account to bigger audiences

once Midorima finds out he’s MAD LMAO *insert Takao pain noises*

either goes down two paths: just casually continuing to post the daily Oha Asa predictions without interacting with anyone OR deleting his account and making a new PRIVATE one just for communication/lurking purposes

so he can honestly have 10k followers if he chooses to be a horoscope account or like 3 followers on his private, take it or leave it

maybe he has two accounts if he feels that having instagram has its merits

definitely has a shit ton of random stuff/posts in his saved collections

boomer energy, like… what’s a “reels” feature?? people talk to their phone camera and record that?? he’s squinting really hard and scratching his head

either has 356 horoscope posts on his “main” or like 19 posts on his private

has a rubber duck as a profile picture for BOTH ACCOUNTS HELP HIM

@oha_asa_ for his horoscope account or @shin_chan77 as his personal because he doesn’t know how to change his username (thanks, Takao LMAO)

Aomine Daiki

he doesn’t give a shit about instagram LOL

it’s MOMOI who handles his account because he doesn’t wanna bother with it LMAOO

she would tease him and try to “encourage” him to stop lazing around by taking pictures of him whenever he’s snoozing and posting it

but he’s so damn good-looking that his sleeping pictures got some traction with new fans

Aomine is still sleeping

his account also has pictures of him eating at Maji burger or at a café, and of course Momoi is the one snapping these photos of him

he started caring about it a little more once Momoi told him that he can post videos of himself doing trickshots and one-on-ones to potentially find worthy rivals over the internet and meet up

so now his account (videos, reels, IGTVs) are all riddled with basketball/small parkour footage shot by yours truly, Momoi

so his fanbase is split between thirsty people and people who genuinely admire him for his skills… but I mean there’s also people in both categories, anywho

he’d totally follow his favorite Japanese idols on IG if they had one

also would follow any NBA-related accounts/players he admires

has like 2.7k followers (but growing really fast) with like 176 posts of videos and random pictures of him

his profile picture is literally a picture of him sleeping by Momoi

@a_daikiii

Momoi Satsuki

LOTS OF REALLY cute, playful selfies, and a lot of them are used with cute filters from the Snow app

sometimes would post herself doing a really cute Tiktok dance while in her school uniform

she doesn’t post too much; she’s actually more into posting IG stories and making highlights out of them and then making highlight covers have a coordinating theme together

very aesthetic theme on her feed overall hehe

definitely uses her account to comment on other GoMs posts, often commenting something snarky on Aomine’s and Kise’s

actually has 1-2 IGTVs on the Vorpal Sword’s big game against the Jabberwocks

doesn’t have much of full-body shots/outfit pictures other than mirror selfies because Aomine refuses to take good pictures of her

only when she sees Kise or Kuroko is when she can ask either to be a photographer

she’s definitely gotten a few small collab offers from small businesses, but she usually ignores them because it’s not exactly her thing

her profile picture is just a selfie with a sketch-line cat ear filter

uses a bunch of emoticons on her bio, captions, comments, everything

⌒(ㅇㅅㅇ❀)⌒ or ☆⌒(＞。≪) or .₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇. you get the picture

967 followers… that looks way too specific, but it’s somewhere around there; a lot of them came from Aomine’s account after they saw who’s been taking his pictures, and they wanna learn more about her??

around 40 posts?

@momoiowo

Murasakibara Atsushi

Himuro showed him how to use the app, but Murasakibara doesn’t find ANY USE FOR THIS LMAOO

he’d probably only get on it to look at food on the explore page and drool about the cuisines

keeps tabs on local places/restaurants/shops on instagram; those are probably the only accounts he’d follow tbh

it’s probably like ONE post and it’s an old picture of a dango on a plate he ate like 2 years ago

I have this image in my head that he has a really cute bento art as his profile picture?? can you imagine a Rilakkuma-shaped rice as his PROFILE PICTURE?

his bio is definitely: “hungry”

and that’s it

27 followers, and it’s literally just his Yōsen teammates, the GoMs and probably some other classmates of his

his captions are literally empty or 1-2 words

@oomaib0

Akashi Seijuro

only uses instagram because it’ll be beneficial for his company and to expand social networks, plus getting those sweet business deals and engagement

he doesn’t mind seeing really wholesome videos on the explore page though

when he wants to relax, a cat video melts his stress away

laughs to himself while he reads all the shenanigans underneath the GoMs’ posts

DEFINITELY loses a few brain cells seeing trolls and idiots on the internet… especially on controversial or political ones LMAO

he at first had to REFRAIN himself and take deep breaths before he just scrolls on, but he eventually got used to them and can now easily ignore them as easy as he breathes air

he actually enjoys shitposts and meme videos?? like he may not completely understand the meme trends sometimes, but he’ll still find it amusing enough for a chuckle

he ends up being the one who uses instagram the most? like Kise posts a shit ton, yeah, but Kise doesn’t really sit down and just scroll endlessly; Kise releases out content, while Akashi consumes the content

he reasons with himself that it’s to study his current demographics for the company, and while that may be true, Akashi just enjoys social media, plain and simple LOL

he does get to study the behaviors of all the generations using the platform, young folks and old folks alike, and it does get him excited in using his analytical skills to try to figure out people BEHIND a screen rather than those in front of him

it makes a really good challenge for him when he wants a good mental exercise

he has a post or two about his horses, his manor, and a video or two on him playing his violin?? but most are business-related, them being advertisements or business contracts/offers… things like that

his highlights are all about Q&As regarding the company, his background, his skillsets, etc. like an actual resumé

actually links current world issue cards/petitions on top of his company website; he’s quite an advocate

he actually doesn’t post about basketball because that’s something very close to his heart since it reminds him of his late mother… having that mixed in with his company-related posts feels wrong to him

27k followers, most of them are business-related accounts AND some are some followers his father bought for him without Akashi’s input to inflate engagement, etc.

@4k4shi… oh he thinks he’s SO CLEVER FOR MAKING THIS USERNAME LOL with the 4 being his jersey number and the 4s looking like As… AKASHI PLEASE—

his profile pic is like a professionally taken picture, nothing less for our king

his grammar and syntax are impeccable on social media; after all, he’s still being judged for how he carries himself even on the media

Kagami Taiga

mukbang guy… DEFINITELY

hot guy eating nine plates of steaks

IGTVs are filled with mukbang videos because Kuroko said he could make a living off of his appetite

HE COULD MAKE MONEY OFF OF JUST EATING? SIGN HIM UP.

on his posts, he posts dishes he makes for the day/is proud of and talks about the dish and ingredients briefly in the caption

that, or he has pictures of his new basketball shoes LMAO

or all of his basketball merch

HE’S DEFINITELY POSTED PICTURES OF LANDMARKS AND OTHER ICONIC PLACES HE’S TRAVELED TO (*cough* in America)

has a generic Jordan brand logo against a dark background as a profile picture

doesn’t have his face anywhere unless it’s in a mukbang video

279 followers or something

why do I have a feeling that he’ll accidentally blow up when Alex takes his phone to do a quick selfie on it?—

@taiga10

[anqelically-archived]

Hiya! I saw your JJK match up was opened, an wanted to send one in.

I'm 23, MBTI is INTP, I'm a Gemini an year of the 🐅. My personality, I am kind of shy (sometimes) when first meeting people, unless I mentally prepare myself along with having a socially charged battery. I'm intimidating?? I've been told, it's just my face, got that RBF. but I'm really kind an will help others out, but I know when to pull back. Im also stubborn, a smartass an find it pretty entertaining when people are in embarrassing situations. Mostly certainly try am capture it on photo or video Good listener, open minded, love to try new things. I have piercings an wish to get tattoos soon. I've been sky diving, an plan to become certified in it, I'm learning French an want to learn other languages, I took up painting/drawling, reading, also work out, an photography, an gardening an cooking.

In a relationship, I would want someone that understands me an we grow together instead of being a stick in the mud. I'm not the biggest on physical affection, slowly starting to realize I am asexual as well.

Umm... I think that is it, have a great day an thank you!

I'm not sure for a prompt, anything works with me.

YOUR MATCH-UP IS…

…SATORU GOJO !

NO MANGA SPOILERS INCLUDED

so we know gojo, especially teen gojo, and he’s like you in some ways. in his teenage years he definitely was a smartass and could be stubborn, but he’s grown from that point (kinda)

he didn’t care for your rbf when he first laid his eyes on you. it isn’t easy to intimidate gojo, some may say impossible

YOU AND GOJO RELATE ON THIS SM AHH. this man loves putting people he cares about in embarrassing situations and you find it entertaining. he’s always in the shot but makes sure he isn’t blocking. you two laugh at the images and videos later on

so this is only if you don’t have a tongue piercing btw,, but i hc gojo definitely trying to talk you into getting one since you already have other. “come on~ don’t you wanna know what it’s like to kiss- ack! did i just get slapped?”

gojo finds it hot when you speak in french, even if it’s a few phrases or so. like he wouldn’t understand what you’re saying but will still hum ‘yes’ and act like he knows or agrees

NOTE: I CHECKED BACK AND REALIZED IT’S BEEN ALMOST A MONTH I AM SO SORRY<33

reblogs are appreciated, and asks are welcome <3

[jesuisgourde]

gay/queer references in Peter’s journals

Again, I have probably missed stuff due to going through pretty quickly and also due to having stared at this document for so long, everything has kind of blurred together.

Sometime close to the day that Carlos & I watched 'Love And Death on Long Island' (and afterwards paraded through the tea rooms of Picadilly) we both filled in application forms and were tres excited to be invited to the same group 'interview' - twas more like an audition though. I got the part. Carlos never. This did not bring any animosity - we both know that success for either of us is magnified a million times if it is shared by us both.

from 'A Diamond Guitar' by Truman Capote "Except that they did not combine their bodies or think to do so, though such things were not unknown at the (Prison), they were as lovers. Of the seasons, spring is the most shattering: stalks thrusting through the earth's winter-stiffened crust, young leaves cracking out on old left-to-die branches, the falling asleep wind cruising through all the newborn green. And with Mr Schaeffer it was the same, a breaking up, a flexing of muscles that had hardened. It was late January. The friends were sitting on the steps of the sheep house, each with a cigarette in his hand. A moon thin and yellow as a piece of lemon rind curved above them, and under its light, threads of ground frost glistened like silver snail trails. Tico Feo had been drawn into himself - silent as a robber waiting in the shadows."

Then a meet with Bounds Green's African prince outside whitechapel tube, rugged lookies at I in military attire & to a ruptured Albion rooms tidied in hours and now lids drawn heated on the eyes. A young looking fella has a crush on me.

Jackie/Camillia/Marie/Kate/Chris/V. churchill Jackie/Evelina/Jasmine/Sachi/Dalston/Sussie Sandra/Carlene/FP/Jay/Dalston/Kraut

There sat a young black man, perhaps in his early or middle twenties. He looked for all the world like the archetypal rude boy. Clean, cheap reebok, nike, adidas variously rolled, laced & zipped about his lean, spreadeagled body that hung loosely about the waiting room chair. Gold & tattoos adorned his person, and a blank animal look was attached to his clear face. He sat before me in a row of four empty chairs, staring at polished floor or the mundane television. A balding white man minced in & all perceptions were suddenly proven to be false as they embraced and snuggled up to each other, giggling & whispering & touching each others noses.... very much in love, fingers crossed for the blood tests.

[Image: an article from Gay Times of an interview with Peter. For some reason, the portrait included alongside the article is of Carl wearing a grey and black t-shirt.] Name? Peter Doherty Age? 22 Where are you? I'm on the motorway just north of Southampton. What kind of day are you having? (Vaguely) Erm... quite misty. Something's waiting around the corner, but there are no corners on the motorway, so we'll just have to wait and see what lies ahead. Maybe something will happen tonight.... What's this we hear about you once being a rent boy? Well, when times are hard, duty calls. How long ago was it? When I was 19, about three years ago. How do we know this isn't just a Shaun Ryder-type lie? 'Cause if it was, it would make me a complete scumbag and I'm not, and I'm not interested in that kind of pantomime. It wasn't a very happy time. I didn't really enjoy it. Why did you give it up? (grimly) Well, certain people disappeared... and anyway, ultimately I found myself no longer in such a vulnerable position anymore. Dawn broke, and I realised that it was a beautiful world after all. Have you done any other dodgy jobs? All of us in the band have tried to deal, but it's not good if you like the drugs too much. You just end up using them yourself! I once was a gravedigger. I used to do it with my mate in Willesden Green cemetery. We didn't actually do the digging, a machine did that, but we used to have to fill them in. It was pretty grim work. So are you gay then? Love is love, wherever it comes from. I'm not anything, really. I am a very sexual person but... I dunno, I believe in liberty... The Marquis de Sade has a lot to answer for... Do you get a lot of gay fans? Yeah - well, there's one guy in particular. He's very shy and he follows us around. He brings in letters and cards and stuff, but he's very quiet. I think John (the bassist) is the main pulling power in the band. Are you jealous about that? Nah! I've known him too long.

You know I'm alright i dont even care i like it when they stare & stare call me queer, dear oh dear a million things & what I wear He's real hard when he's with his mates but I'll saw him again & he was too late

Dear NME I'd have thought after the Gay Times piece, the interview with Rapture fanzine & our recent gig at the Slum Club everything would be clear. No it still remains to give a big hearty fuck off to all these twisted suburban types calling me a liar. Vulnerable young men & women all over the world find themselves victims of circumstance.

she was dressed in suit & tie & lightly etched-on moustache. 'I've always wanted to kiss a bird in the back of a taxi.' she says, running her hand up the fishnet ladders of my thigh. Stepping onto the front line in Bow puddles, elevators, buzzing doors,

[Image: the original page in the book has been preserved. Two paragraphs have been boxed off with biro. They read:] “...cast Richard Burton and Rex Harrison as bickering queer barbers and then much more uncompromisingly in William Friedkin's adaptation of The Boys in the Band (1970), which introduced some of the plainer four letter words in the English language to the screen for the first time. 'Who,' asks Cliff Gorman, in his brilliant portrayal of the most effeminate of the homosexual group as they gather for a soul-searching party, 'Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?' Other homosexual manifestations to occur in movies around this time included an elliptical but unmistakeable male fellatio scene in John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) when Jon Voight, as a broke and disillusioned Texas stud importunes in a New York cinema....”

[Image, top left: a blurry photo of John onstage, playing bass. Image, top right, sideways: a photo of the band onstage. Carl and John are on the left, sharing a mic. Peter is on the right, playing guitar and singing into his own mic. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his bottom half from the chest down is visible. Image, centre left: a torn photo of Peter sitting in a chair, shirtless, playing guitar. Only his top half from shoulders up is visible. Image, bottom left: a torn fragment of a photo. What looks like a denim-clad knee and a yellow carrier bag are visible. Image, bottom middle: a photo of someone's knee in torn jeans, taken from under a table. Image, bottom right: a torn photo of Carl in a black sleeveless shirt, posing with his fingers in his mouth.] [A paragraph from the original page of the book has been left exposed and boxed off with black biro. It reads:] “The Boys in the Band was displaced by an immeasurably more powerful portrayal of homosexual groups, Fortune and Men's Eyes (1971). Set in a Quebec prison, this disturbing, factually based drama vividly recounted the corrupted of a heterosexual convict trapped in a tough, potentially vicious homosexual society. In one horrifying scene, a weak, put-upon prisoner is gang-banged by his fellow inmates; in another, the 'hero' is blackmailed by his cellmate into accepting him as his lover for the duration...”

Like a cat on a hot tin roof Like a macho man in a roomful of poofs I have tried in my way to be free.

[Written in Peter's handwriting] Jerome... is that how it's spelt? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes it is [Written in Peter's handwriting] Can I read you something? [Written in someone else's handwriting] Yes please.....

I insist, new book of Albion, befuddled by drugs I may yes about 2 but I do not miss out entirely on the subtleties of the inhuman relation ships that are this the mainstay of my stay here in one bounce of a loaf. Boys are fooled into fooling with boys. [...]

More general references/some extra explanations:

“The boy looked at Johnny” is a line from Patti Smith's song “Horses,” part one of a three-part song called “Land.” In the song, a young man named Johnny is assaulted by another man in a locker room; he then mentally journeys to other fantastical lands and visions. A lot of people interpret it as being about gay sex, although some people interpret it as being about a stabbing.

Peter quotes and references Jean Genet's writing and works about Jean Genet many times. While Genet's works are nearly all about crime and prison (one of Peter's main interests and points of fascination), all of his works are very explicitly gay. The Thief's Journal is more about Genet's various lovers than it is about his criminal history. Our Lady Of The Flowers is about a drag queen and her criminal lovers, and is also extremely erotic.

(“Jerome” is Jerome Alexandre, vocalist of The Deadcuts, who was friends with Peter and Mark Keds.)

[qqueenofhades]

Everytime I read "Nicolo di Genova" my brain glitches and I read "Nicolo do Genovia" instead so /whispers/ Kaysanova Princess Diaries AU?

...yes. Did someone say Gay Champagne Romcom? Because that is my Brand.

Nicolò is an Italian-American graduate student living in New York City with his widowed Italian mother and working on an engineering degree at NYU. He was thinking about joining the priesthood for a few years and recently dropped out of seminary and is feeling that Millennial Crisis that all of us know about. He has gone on a few Tinder/Grindr dates, but it’s hard enough to meet someone in this city even when you’re not a gay ex-priest engineering student living in his mother’s rent-controlled apartment in Morningside Heights because have you seen the property prices in New York. Plus WHENEVER he brings a nice boy home, HEY PRESTO there’s his mom waiting eagerly up in the front room, “NICOLÒ WHO IS THIS HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, DOES HE HAVE GOOD PARENTS, IS HE A CATHOLIC NICOLÒ” and of course that instantly kills any kind of romantic mood. Nicolò is like “let’s just go over to yours PLEASE.” But he tends not to see his dates again anyway, and it’s equally depressing, and it’s nice that his mom isn’t homophobic or anything, but he’d like to just meet someone without his mother instantly planning the Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding, and yes he knows this is a nice problem to have but STILL

Anyway, then of course the Dead Dad Circus rolls into town, and Nicolò learns that he’s not actually the son of a nice hardworking Italian immigrant, but of His Serene Highness Prince Domenico Grimaldi of Genovia, who wouldn’t you know it, has recently died too young from cancer and left no legitimate heir except the result of his rebellious teen fling with a cocktail waitress in Capri – which would be, you guessed it, Nicolò. While Nicolò is still processing the horrifying mental image of his mother being a cocktail waitress in Capri and having to look up Genovia on a map, the rest of the royal machine is kicking into overdrive. This involves a very awkward meeting in a very fancy Manhattan hotel with Nicolò’s magnificent but rather out-of-touch royal grandmother, Her Serene Highness The Queen Mother Maria Elisabetta Henrietta Julia Victoria Mignonette Grimaldi of Genovia. She’s basically Julie Andrews because obviously. She informs Nicolò of his Solemn Duty to return to Genovia and become Prince Nicolò and eventually be prepared to take the throne and submit to a fascinating life of minor European royal family ribbon-cutting duties. Oh, and getting married and producing more heirs to the throne, on pain of breaking a thousand-year-old bloodline, though she doesn’t say this out loud. Her loyal right-hand man, driver, and general bodyguard/fixer/man about town, Sebastien le Livre aka Booker, gives Nicolò various sympathetic looks but does not interrupt.

Nicolò obviously freaks out and runs off to call up his best friend at NYU, Andy. Andy is some indeterminate degree of years older than him, in some indeterminable stage of her Classics PhD, and sometimes says weird things like how badly the Library of Alexandria had already been defunded by the Roman emperors before it finally burned, like she was there and holds a personal grudge about it. She is a cranky vodka-drinking lesbian who rides a motorcycle, gets them into periodic scrapes, and understands his shit dating life. She deeply empathizes with all his “I’m not going to run away and leave my life in New York to become part of some creakingly antique regressive imperial monarchic system of racist and homophobic oppression, NO SIR!” Fight the power, Nicolò. Fuck those guys.

Of course, however, Julie Andrews Grandmother Maria prevails and Nicolò is forced to take Prince Lessons, which he hates but tries to be a good sport about, because, well, he’s Nicolò and he’s a good person. He is then whisked off on a private plane to Genovia, because they want to see him in situ before they make a final decision on accepting him as their prince. There of course we have the high-life palaces and parks and snooty clueless aristocrats who look at Nicolò like he’s a prize racehorse and have absolutely zero clue, none, nada, about the real world. Just as Nicolò is about to firmly decide that this is a complete crock of shit and he’s going back to NYU, he meets….

Prince Yusuf “call me Joe” al-Kaysani.

Joe is a minor member of one of the Middle Eastern royal families, some fictional tiny Gulf kingdom that is super SUPER oil rich. He has a title and a lot of money but doesn’t have a clearly defined role in the family, other than that he’s been ordered not to embarrass it. Nicky does not know this when they first meet, but obviously it’s not possible to be an out gay prince in a conservative Arabian-peninsula Islamic kingdom, and therefore the fixers have arranged for Joe to be publicly dating a daughter of the Malaysian sultan, Quynh. (We are making her Malaysian in this instance so she can also be Muslim and hence an appropriate match for Joe.) Except Princess Quynh is also hella lesbian and is getting the same thing out of the fake dating with Joe that he is, i.e. throwing people off the scent of their real selves. They spend their time together in private eating popcorn, commiserating about their lives and crazy royal families and the press invading their privacy, watching romcoms, and Judging the Straights. They’re actually best friends and text each other all the time, so at the royal function where Joe runs into the stiff and nervous and clearly overcompensating New Guy who’s evidently the New Prince of Genovia, and oh my god Q he’s the Most stuck up person I’ve EVER MET, Quynh is the first to hear ALL about it. She immediately suspects that Joe doth protest too much.

Meanwhile, Nicky meets Nile Freeman, another young American (from Chicago, obvs) who is working at some important EU institution currently headquartered in Genovia. They also hit it off and Nile tells Nicky about the things she wants to do to help change the world and why she’s here, and he is moved by her kindness and altruism and remembers that that was what he wanted too, and why he joined the priesthood in the first place. He opens up to her about the shock of learning the truth about his now-dead dad and the crazy whirlwind he’s been sucked into and how he doesn’t know what to do, and their friendship is beautiful and we love it.

Meanwhile, of course, Nicky and Joe keep running into each other and getting on each other’s nerves, Nicky is thisclose to calling up Booker and ordering him to deport Joe because why is he always here (Booker, of course, will eventually become a secret ally in helping them see each other, but that is not quite yet). There is some Shenanigan where they end up both getting into trouble, Grandmother Julie Andrews is not amused, and finally they are forced to sit next to each other for a whole state dinner and Be Polite, because Genovia is trying to forge better relations with Joe’s kingdom. (Genovia is tiny, ancient, and broke, Joe’s kingdom has obviously a ton of money, there are old historical ties between them, some Genovians traveled to the kingdom in the past, Genovia’s trying to improve its human rights record and take in more refugees, etc. Nile is also helping with this last). So Nicky and Joe get ordered to fake a highly convincing bromance and pretend they’ve been best buddies all along (think Red White and Royal Blue) and that means they have to actually learn about each other and spend time together and ugh, he’s a spoiled rich playboy brat, and ugh, he’s a clueless American who thinks he’s better than us, and…

Oh no.

Yes, of course they fall in love, they deny it as hard as they can, Nile and Quynh and Booker are all increasingly exasperated by their attempts to pretend they’re not, and finally they kiss and make love and admit their feelings and that they want to be together. Then of course they get outed by some scheming evil cabinet minister (Merrick) who doesn’t want Nicky to become king and disapproves of him dating (gasp) a MUSLIM WHO IS ALSO A MAN, and there’s a huge scandal and a ton of drama and the usual Romcom Breakup Angst as they decide whether they can still see each other. Andy flies out to Genovia to comfort Nicky, Booker has a Word With The Queen, and Joe hides in his room until Quynh (along with Nile, who she’s met and hit it off with) appears to tell him that he has to be brave, she’ll help.

Anyway, etc etc., Drama, “I love him no matter what, if you don’t accept him you don’t accept me and your STUPID BLOODLINE CAN CHOKE” speeches from Nicky, Julie Andrews sees the light, they decide that Nicky and Joe can keep seeing each other, and it’s all rather sweet. There’s a lot of public relations to be managed and whether Joe’s family is going to disown him and what this will mean for the whole international relations thing, but… one thing at a time.

Nicky agrees to become Prince of Genovia as long as he can be with Joe, Joe decides that hey, he likes Nile too and there’s plenty of meaningful work to be had here and the three of them can join forces to do good things and he’s going to stay, and the Genovian public obviously comes around and loves them. Nobody can find Princess Quynh. It’s rumored she ran off to America with a cranky vodka-drinking PhD student of indeterminate age and was last seen on the back of a motorcycle heading west.

Everyone lives happily and gayly ever after.

The End.

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // SIX

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

the masterlist  |  the playlist

read on till the end for notes!

CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains drug use and more swearing than usual. 

SAWBONES // SIX

CALM DOWN, STARBOY. 

You’d surprised yourself, honestly. 

Maybe you were cut out for politics - the way you were able to stand in line with Poe and the Generals, keep your face blank and greet the new recruits without a scowl? It was nothing short of impressive. For you and Poe to stand shoulder to shoulder, his hands clasped behind him while yours were clasped in front, and not glance down at the stupid fucking string and notice that it was probably the shortest it’s ever been entitled you to an award. Maybe a nice vacation, off base? For the entirety of this training? 

That would be nice. 

You half expected Poe to jump into her arms, like people often did when their significant others returned from a flight. He didn’t. In fact, Poe’s expression did not crack from it’s diplomatic mask. Shoulders back, jaw clenched and chin out, Poe scanned the pilots as they left their ships, and you couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of your eye. Poe now diametrically opposed who he had been in your office, his stupid smile now a faint memory. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was one you hadn’t met nor seen in person. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was hot. 

Poe’s posture elongated his spine, jutted his chest out and brought forth his collar bones. Your eyes once again traced his gold chain. 

Maybe you didn’t deserve all the praise you’d previously granted yourself as you openly ogled the man next to you. But Poe was your soulmate. It granted you an ogle pass, whether or not both parties were aware. 

The pilots had lined up, helmets off and tucked under their arms. They were the perfect image, the very epitome of what people would want to see on Resistance banners. You’d purposely not remembered their names in spite. You were the Head Medic of the Resistance - they should have to introduce themselves to you.

Leia greeted them, her words sounded garbled as your eyes met the infamous Scoria Tane. She stood tall, her long white hair in a loose french braid. Her chestnut skin seemingly unmarred with such trivial marks like pores. You felt the breath leave your chest as her eyes flitted over to meet Poe’s. No matter how brief, you still caught it. You couldn’t feel any change in Poe’s demeanor, but you didn’t want to chance glancing over to see if there was a smile on his face. No need to put salt in an already festering wound. 

“This is our head medic,” Leia introduced you. Your head turned to hers before returning back to the recruits with a small nod. You were really mucking up your air of superiority. 

Besides Scoria, there was only one other human. And he was staring at you. 

“It’s an honor to be here, Generals,” the man spoke up, his eyes momentarily leaving your figure to address Holo, Ackbar and Leia. “It seems like a large base. I don’t know about my fellow pilots, but I would love a tour.” His eyes were back on you. 

“I’m sure Commander Dameron would be more than willing to accommodate you, Commander Ancin,” Holo nodded. 

Ancin smiled slightly. “Doctor, would you have the time?” 

You had been trying very hard not to meet his gaze, but his lack of subtlety forced your hand. However, Poe had beaten you to a response. 

“She’s very busy,” he cleared his throat. “Still has to conduct your physicals and stress tests. I am more than willing to give you a tour,” his tone was clipped. 

Ancin didn’t even spare Poe a glance, and you saw Poe clench his hands from behind his back out of your peripheral vision. You desperately wanted to pause time, to knock your shoulders or nudge him with your elbow. But you couldn’t, not with the audience in front of you. 

“It’s fine, Commander Dameron. I’m sure I could spare some time,” you responded, feeling like your skin was on fire. No doubt the white of your coat further contrasted the fact that your face was also on fire. 

“Great,” Ancin switched his helmet to the other arm. “Can we begin now?” He turned to Leia quickly. “My apologies, unless there was more to be discussed?” 

Leia gave him a tight smile. “The specifics can be gone over later.”

Ancin nodded before breaking formation with his fellow pilots and grabbing your arm. “Shall we, Doc?” 

If you would’ve had the time to turn your head as Ancin grabbed you, you would’ve seen the way Poe clenched his jaw impossibly tight and watched as the Coruscant’s pilot Commander dragged you away. If you would’ve perhaps taken the time to drag your eyes away from Poe’s chest and face earlier, you would’ve noticed that since the beginning of this whole situation, Poe had been slowly dragging the pointer finger of his right hand over the base of his left pinky. 

If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to showing someone around a base you barely knew yourself. 

“I’m going to apologize in advance,” you began, subtly removing your arm from his grip. “I don’t really know the base that well either. I know hangars, cafeteria and meeting room. But only in relation to the medbay.” 

“That’s okay,” he smiled down at you. “We can figure it out together.”

You hadn’t forced yourself to memorize the names of the pilots, but hearing Ancin jogged your memory from when you had skimmed their files. You were pretty sure his first name was Cane, and if the galaxy could pick one person to represent them, it would probably be him. 

Cane Ancin was objectively gorgeous. He was tall, several inches taller than you and most likely Poe, too. His cheekbones and jawline were sharp, and you remembered bitterly that he must be ridiculously fit, because he had one of the lowest resting heart rates you’d ever seen. He was broad, and his curls rivaled Poe’s. You outwardly winced at the comparison. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. You tried not to shrug it off. 

“Nothing. Just uh, remembering all the stuff I have to do back in the medbay.” 

Cane wasn’t bothered. “Let’s start moving then, yeah?”

The two of you had continued walking for a couple of paces, Cane watching you out of the corner of his eye, not even bothering to take account of where the two of you were. 

Fleetingly, you wondered if the base would be able to accommodate both Cane and Poe’s ego. 

“Why did you want me to give you a tour?” you asked, his silent watching pushing you to the brink. 

Cane shrugged. “Is it a crime to ask a beautiful woman to show me around?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Tell me,” his voice viscous like honey. He increased his stride so he could stand in front of you, abruptly stopping your movement. Throwing civility to the wind, you openly scowled. 

“Can you see your thread?” 

You wanted to roll your eyes. Could you have a conversation about literally anything else or was the soulmate tether your whole life now? You couldn’t work, sleep, or even eat without thinking about it. You’d never piloted one before, but you were sure that you could figure out how to steer an x-wing into oblivion. Sure, you had two of the best pilots in the galaxy on base that would catch your ass in no time, but it was nice to pretend that they couldn’t. 

Cane looked you up and down slowly. You weren’t exactly sure  what  he was looking at. Your boots, black leggings and white coat buttoned up to your throat didn’t really emanate sexy, but this guy was weird. It probably did seem sexy to him. Your scowl deepened. 

“I can see mine,” he drawled. Now would’ve been a great moment for one of your infamous ‘i’m gonna be sick’  moments. “And let me tell you, I like where it leads.” 

You snorted. “Calm down, starboy. I can see mine, too.”

Cane deflated. 

“Does that actually work? Do you get people with that?” you questioned, tapping on your chin. “Even on a few shots of fire-water I still don’t think I would’ve fell for it.”

Cane didn’t stay off-guard for long - after you were done speaking, he let out a laugh and held his hands up as if to say, ‘well, I tried.’

“It does sometimes,” he said. “The addition of fire-water does seem to increase the chances, though I figured I would try it with you regardless.” 

“You pilots are always so risky,” the two of you fell into step again. The tension seemed to have dissipated instantly. “Always shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“You speak from experience,” Cane raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you know how many pilots end up in my medbay because of that mentality?” You shook your head. “Craziest beings in the galaxy, I swear.” 

“Dameron is the worst of us,” he responded, and you didn’t miss the way his expression steeled. You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Commander of the Resistance? You really trust that guy?” 

You narrowed your eyes, the words your brain wanted to speak in defense of Poe stilled at the tip of your tongue. You didn’t expect someone to join the ‘I hate Poe Dameron’ club, but as soon as it crossed your mind, you realized you weren’t even part of that club. You were in the ‘I hate loving Poe Dameron’ club. President of the ‘My soulmate is a douche but it’s totally my fault’ club. 

You could go on. 

“What’s your issue with Poe?” you asked. 

“Typical he hasn’t mentioned me,” Cane scratched his bare jaw. It made you realize you preferred stubble. “He’s just...not the guy you all think he is.” 

“Don’t be vague,” you said, annoyed. 

“The guy just...he’s not this straight-laced, hero of the Resistance. Hell, I haven’t even been here a day and I can tell the whole base fucking worships him, and for what?” 

“For being a good pilot?” you answered what was most likely a rhetorical question. “For risking his life every time he gets in that ship, getting us First Order intel and directly playing a role in saving the galaxy?” You were getting angrier by the second. Whatever past he had with Poe, you didn’t care about it. 

“Might I remind you it’s the same galaxy that you and I both live in? We all have shit we’ve done in the past. How we move on from it defines us.” You stopped yourself before saying something you would regret, revealing too much to a man you didn’t know. And honestly? You didn’t care to. 

You continued when Cane stayed silent. 

“You don’t have skeletons in the closet? If you know Poe’s, I’m sure he knows yours.” 

You turned to him, conveniently stopped outside of the double doors to your medbay. The harsh fluorescents illuminated Cane’s face, exposing the conflict and discord written all over his features. Whatever thoughts were floating in his head made you feel uneasy, as though you were teetering on a tightrope. Cane didn’t meet your gaze, instead he chose to finally notice his surroundings. 

He inhaled deeply and exhaled for longer. You waited patiently. 

“I’ll see you around for my tests, Doc.” Cane continued to walk down the hallway, and you fought the urge to point out that it was the opposite direction he needed to go. ...right?

You couldn’t dwell on your mediocre sense of direction before you heard the whoosh of air form the double doors opening and FX-7’s bulky metal frame towering over you.  Droid or not, you could feel the disapproval from the lit, annular holes in its head as they bored into your back.

“You have plenty to do,” was all the droid said before it retreated back into the medbay.

✗ ✗ ✗

  Yes, you had plenty to do. So much so that it took you up until early morning to finish. It was so early, (or late?) that you had recoiled when you’d checked the time.

But, as you were heading back to your quarters to catch up on sleep because you were in no rush to start taking vitals on the new recruits, your arm was caught on fire. 

Not literally, but it felt literal. Like every nerve ending was ripped from your skin, abraded and exposed. And it all originated from one point on your hand. You fought the buckle of your knees, desperately applying pressure to your pinky finger after loudly yelling a string of expletives. As you took another step in the direction of your quarters, the pain impossibly intensified. Somehow, your brain was able to act logically as you quickly retraced your last few steps. 

As you moved backwards, the pain slowly dissipated into a deep throb, coming from both your hand and somehow your chest? You inspected your arm, turning over at least seven times. Your medical training had never taught you, or even touched on anything related to...whatever just happened. As you retreated back to the medbay, the pain intensified again. 

“What the fuck,” you gritted through your teeth. Stepping back from the double doors, you continued forward. And for the next few minutes, you continued like that. Walking and retracing your steps, following the path that didn’t beset your body in so much agony your vision went white.  

In your course around the base, you were at a junction you’d never been to previously. To your left, the hallway led out to the runway and to your right, a dead end. However, a few experimental steps in either direction revealed that your phantom arm pain was directing you straight forward. 

Honestly, fuck the galaxy, you sized up the door in front of you. Whatever forces were at work right now, pulling your sensory nerves like strings on a marionette could fuck off. Sending you to weird parts of the base that you’d never been to (it could’ve been a common area actually, you never really explored) and sending you to a blank, durasteel door? Another healthy dose of fire shot up your spinal cord. 

“The thread is sentient,” you tried to catch your breath. “All of the past soulmates in the galaxy have joined together to kill me.” 

Rationally, there was no way you were correct but you were running on empty and had been updating the files on the pilots until you thought your retinas would burn out. Maybe this was a dream? You could definitely be dreaming. 

Shaking out your right arm, you bounced back and forth on either foot. You were going to go through this mystery door. Enter the mystery door that didn’t make your arm feel like the thread was pulling tight between your arm and torso as if to amputate it. Yes.

Before your mind could bitch out, your muscles pushed your legs forward by reflex - acting before the brain could process. Your hand pulling down on the handle, a component most doors on the base didn’t have. 

Blue. 

Your entire field of vision was met with a murky swirl of blue. The room was of decent size, maybe slightly smaller than your office. From what you could see, it looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with shelves that contained extra orange jumpsuits, helmets, blankets and clothes of all sorts. In your pursuit of orienting yourself, you disregarded the figure sitting on the ground against the wall opposite you.

 With one leg forward and the other bent at the knee, the source of the smoke dangled loosely between the fingers of Poe Dameron. 

But you didn’t realize that yet, because it was dark and hazy and you were confused and what was that smell?  The acrid fumes were coupled with an odor that was almost...sweet? No. Tart felt like the better word. Sharp and sour and sitting on your tastebuds. 

As Poe dragged on the stick in his hand, the embers that burned at the end burned brighter and attracted your eyes. Then, you noticed him. 

“Dameron?” you squinted through the smoke, trying to swat it out of your vision. “Are you seriously smoking spice right now?”

In your confusion and disbelief, you didn’t notice how the throbbing from the remnants of pain in your arm had become an amalgamation of both the lingering pain and a new, warmer sensation. Pleasure.

“I’m surprised you know what this is,” he blew out a long stream. 

You tried not to scoff. “I was a teenager once, too.” 

He was silent for a moment before lazily motioning with the hand that held the joint to the spot next to him. With a concerning lack of reluctance you’d think on later, you sat down next to him. 

“My entire left arm has been killing me all day,” he took another hit. You frowned as he blew the smoke out at you. 

“So weird that there isn’t someone on base that could do something about that,” you replied casually, but your mind was spinning. His arm was hurting too? What the hell was going on?

He shook his head, ignoring your response and offered you the joint instead. Surprising both him and yourself, you took it, rotating it in your hand. 

“Take a hit,” Poe urged. “You can turn off your doctor-mode for one seco -  are you really inspecting it right now?”

You looked at him, confused. “Um, yes? Why are you inhaling this when you don’t even know what it’s made of?” 

Poe blinked at you, albeit much slower than usual. “To get high.”

You tapped the ashes into the palm of your hand, then handed the spice back to him. His hand slowly, meticulously took it from your grip and brought it back to his lips. Rubbing the ashes with your pointer finger in your palm, you brought the fine, cerulean powder to your eyes, studying it before lightly placing your finger on your tongue. Poe’s eyes tracked every movement. 

“It’s similar to Ryll,” you noted. “An ore from Ryloth. It’s usually used medicinally, but it can be refined into some good fucking spice.”

“You’ve smoked spice?” 

You took the object in question from his grip, putting it between your lips and taking a deep inhale. Holding it, you smirked at him. You laughed while exhaling, your lungs somewhat relishing in the sweet burn you hadn’t felt in years. 

“Medical school was hard.”

“That’s…” Poe’s eyebrows twisted as he tried to find the words, “so...normal? Of you?” 

“Thanks?”

Poe leaned his head back against the wall. “You’re always the head medic, the doctor of the Resistance. You make it really hard to get to know you outside of that. Is there someone beneath the white coat?” 

You took another hit to avoid answering and Poe had no issue in continuing. 

“I had to ask that engineer you always hang out with,” he paused, thinking hard to remember Jasti’s name before giving up and continuing, “what your actual name was. The people I asked before didn’t know.” 

“Everyone calls me Doc. I don’t mind it.” 

“I do,” Poe snapped, uncharacteristically hostile. “Stars, I’ve made such an effort for you.” 

“An effort?” you echoed.

“To get to know you, to spend time with you. Maker, I even thought for a second - “ Nope. Poe wasn’t high enough to let that statement loose. 

But you were just high enough not to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, the usual weight on your chest now heavier. “I don’t know how to act when people want to get to know me. I haven’t for a long time.” 

Poe placed the joint on the ground, letting it burn out. The two of you sat in silence, slowly inhaling and exhaling the chemicals that swirled in the air. You could feel yourself becoming heavier and weightless at the same time. Your physical sense felt light, but the burden of everything else came down heavy. 

“I hate having him here,” Poe began. “Ancin.” 

“Did you know him previously?” 

Poe swallowed thickly, and you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down. The thought crossed your mind again - the sensitivity of his carotid. It would be so easy for you to find out right now, to just lean over and place a finger, or even your lips on it. That part of your brain that kept you rational and reasonable must've been short circuited by the spice because it wasn’t telling you not to find out, not reminding you of any and all consequences. For once, your brain felt quiet. 

Leaning his head back up towards you, he caught your staring but you couldn’t be bothered to look away. Maybe he was sensitive elsewhere, too. You had dated a guy from Corellia who went absolutely feral when your lips met his sternum. You wanted to find out if Poe was the same way. You wanted to place your lips on every inch of his body, test each section of skin for a quick intake of breath, a twitch, goosebumps. To feel his fingers, calloused from years of flight maneuvers and switches, testing you for sensitivity. 

In your reverie, Poe had begun to inch closer at imperceptible increments. His left hand resting flat on the ground - next to your right. His left pinky laid over your right as he leaned in, tucking some hair behind your ear to justify his proximity. His head turned, his lips now ghosting over the strip of space between the bottom of your earlobe to the joint of your jaw. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips brushing against you. 

“This better not be a dream again,” you said under your breath. 

Chuckling, Poe pressed his lips to your temporomandibular joint as you tilted your head, giving him full access. “Again?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Your filter was gone - your brain now occupied with the double assault of the spice and having Poe Dameron press kisses onto your skin. 

“We don’t have to talk,” he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of your white coat to give him more access to your neck. He sucked lightly at your own pulse point, and you sucked in a breath. 

“Sensitive?”  Stars. The irony. 

“Are you?” you bit back as you brought your hand to rest on his bicep. 

“Want to find out?” he pulled back to meet your eyes. In spite of your slow movements and cloudy train of thought, you had never felt so clear, so confident in an answer. 

You licked your lips, moistening them as your hand slid up from its place on his bicep to the side of Poe’s face, stroking your thumb lightly. Poe sighed, leaning into your ministration and tangling his pinky finger with yours. You could feel the blood buzzing underneath your skin, your sympathetic nervous system sending adrenaline and epinephrine by the gallon to account for how fast your heart was racing. 

You copied his earlier movements, pressing your lips to various points along his jaw, his neck. Testing what he liked the most. When you got to your target, you boldly licked the spot up to his jaw. Poe’s hand tangled in your hair, breath shuddering. 

“That’s a yes for you, too,” you whispered with the last remnants of air in your lungs. 

Finally, your brain rejoiced through the fog. 

You continued kissing, nipping at spots here and there. At the notch between his collarbones, Poe groaned. 

“Scoria.”

You stopped. 

Pulling away, you mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The smoke of the room now felt suffocating, not intoxicating. You felt like you were being smothered, and you were now noticing the lack of fresh air in your lungs. 

Poe’s eyes met yours, too before widening. 

Your hand left his face, your pinky leaving his. The dull ache in your arm had returned. You swallowed thickly, nodding. 

“Fuck. I’m - “ Poe couldn’t straighten out his thoughts, let alone form a sentence. Very clearly in his mind, he had known it was you kissing, sucking on his neck. Her name had just..slipped out. 

“No,” you cut him off before he could formulate some half-assed excuse you didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry. I should’ve have - I forgot about - “ You couldn’t find the words either. 

Standing, you looked down at him briefly, noting how the red thread of fucking fate bisected his torso, standing out starkly against the blue of the smoke and his button up. 

“Thanks for the spice,” you forced, before leaving the room. 

Walking down the hallway, continuing your initial course of returning to your quarters, you felt extremely sober. What else could sober you up faster than the guy whose neck you're kissing moaning out the name of another woman? 

Looking down, you quickly redid the buttons Poe had undone. 

I’m sorry? Your mind replayed the moment.  Sorry for what? Poe is yours. 

You stopped in your tracks. 

Poe was yours. Why the fuck were you embarrassed that you were indirectly kissing your soulmate? Apologizing because he was currently in the middle of wasting his time with another woman? Sure, it was girl code not to do what you had previously been doing, but soulmates were excluded from girl code. Whether or not it was indirectly (...or directly) your fault that he was with her wasn’t important. 

So, yeah. Fuck being sorry, fuck being embarrassed. You were done tiptoeing around the subject. Operation ‘Poe is my soulmate and I’m finally going to do something about it’ was a go. You couldn’t waste any more time. 

The realization that you would explode if you had to spend any more days of your life without Poe’s lips on you was completely unrelated. 

 -----

are you guys screaming? i'm screaming.

also, poe looks high af in the gif above so...i felt that it fit well. 

but what a wild rollercoaster this has been & will continue to be. I hope y'all are excited for the ride, because I am. Can't thank you guys enough for the love & support. don't be scared, share the angst with your friends!! xoxox

also!!! official sawbones playlist because i am a slut for playlists. i’ll be adding and removing, so lmk how you feel about it :) 

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[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 1 of 2) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

+

Temmiefied Version

Alternate Chapter Title(s): Stand by Me (no duh) or The Corny One With A Song Title Reference, Part 1

• • •

The shopping district’s as busy as the roads you’ve just driven by; food courts are the most bustling with the hour your phone marks: ten minutes past noon. Contraire to her punctual self, Brenda’s running late, though you settle for waiting ten more before sending her a message. You sit by an empty booth and take the last chair available in the row to avoid disturbing those who’re already eating. Then, you pull your planner out and skip through a few pages until you find the right one. Aside from your usual schedule, you had her visiting again this Friday, a meeting with Toriel regarding some plans she wanted to discuss with you on Saturday, and another one with Sans on Sunday to arrange the second step towards homeschooling Frisk while you enrolled them somewhere else.

It’s still hard to read that last one, not for what it was, but for the fact that almost every school you’d tried to sign them up into declined having other guardians aside from you and Jerry to pick them up. They declined Toriel just as much as they declined Undyne, all due to the new rules and regulations set up in schools since the monsters’ arrival. What Toriel wanted to discuss with you was related to that, though you hadn’t been given too many details as to what it was, exactly. You glance back to your phone to see over ten minutes have passed by already, yet Brenda's nowhere to be seen. You start typing up a message, only to be interrupted by her call; the device almost slips off your hands with how abrupt it is. 

“H- Hello?” you answer, catching your breath.

She screams an accusation at you, not an ill-minded one per se, but one questioning over why you’d kept information hidden from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re that close to him already?” she asks, words jarringly loud. You have to turn down the volume despite it not being set on speakerphone. “So he's going to help you with Frisk? That’s serious boyfriend material, honey!”

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

You huff and bring a hand to the side of your neck, tension consuming it. “Alright, Auntie Brenda… Where are you right now? I don’t have much break time left anymore.”

“Just go ahead and eat, dear. I’ll drive over on the weekend.”

Right as you’re about to complain over her choices, she speaks up again, calmer than before.

“Or why not come over after you have lunch there?” she asks, words cooed. “You work close to him, don't you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stay here.” You can’t help feeling a little sour over her suggestion and with the reminder you’ve waited almost half an hour for her at the mall. With the call, it’s now thirty-five minutes past noon, giving you barely sufficient time for you to eat -- let alone listen to her rambling over how she’d misinterpreted your relationship and how Sans was better than she expected him to be. “You didn’t bother him with questions about his job, right?" you add. "He’s-”

“Why would I? He’s working an office job just like you!"

“He, what?”

You can’t avoid blurting that question out; a blank canvas replaces the image of him working at a hot dog stand. You try to imagine him working an office job, but it's near impossible to. Even if he knew plenty on various subjects, the monotonous yet fast-paced ambience of a desk job didn’t quite fit with your view of who the monster was to you.

“He works an office job, honey. Don’t you know where your own boyfriend works?” You can almost hear her shaking her head, disappointment made known through the blatant change in her voice. “Shame on you!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and stand up, too vexed to sit still. “That’s not what I meant, Bre- ...Auntie Brenda,” you say, trailing off on your words. “I just… didn’t know he worked two jobs.”

“He does?!”

You lower the volume once more, Brenda's voice taking up a speakerphone quality to it again. Her tone then grows fainter as she questions the skeleton about the legitimacy of your statement. When her voice turns louder, you figure he’s given her an answer -- one you’ve no clue of. If he had two jobs, then you’re not so sure over how she'll be reacting. And if he didn’t, then you’d inadvertently put him on the spot by letting the truth known, something that didn’t really make sense if he was supposed to be working -- or at the very least, ending his lunch break right now.

Feeling it’s going to take a while, you stand in line at one of the fast-food establishments nearest to you; a growl from your stomach reminds you time’s running out. “So what did he say?” you speak up, knowing she’s getting distracted again.

“He does!” she exclaims, almost in a cheer. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that well-off, then? You should marry him now that you’ve got the chance to.”

“Weren’t you scolding me over the opposite barely a week ago?”

“Maybe so, but that was before I knew him better, dear!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, headache worsening. “Alright, I’m hanging up now. Don’t bother him too much, and stop interrupting his-”

“Wait,” she calls, excitement still there. “Have you ever thought of learning more about monsters? There’s a bunch of workshops going on right now… And I figured you could take one, since you’re dating one and all!”

Nearly the time for you to make your order, you let your tone become sterner, hoping to get your point across. “That… That sounds good and all, but I really need to go now. My lunch break’s almost over.”

Brenda huffs. “Fine.” Her voice comes out dragged, and it’s almost possible for you to hear her pouting. “But we need to talk all about this on Friday!”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

You hang up, slip your phone back in your pocket, and turn to the register when you’re done, right on time to make your order.

• • •

Breathe in, breathe out.

You repeat that sentence along with those actions as you clock out of work, more than ready to relax, but less than capable of with how much you've left to resolve. 

Before turning off the computer, you click on your boss's e-mail for a third time today and read it once more.

>> Come to my office as soon as you're done with your shift for the day. I'll be waiting. – Sent from my ayPhone <<

You huff and glance at the pills on your desk. Despite these being given to you by the doctor herself, you're trying not to take them as often as the instructions on the bottle tell you to. You don't want to grow dependent on them, yet -- at the same time -- it's nearly impossible for you to go by your usual routine without having the repercussions of not taking them delay your progress. The side-eyes and looks some of your co-workers offer you on occasion reveal they're not too thrilled by the idea of having someone in your state around, either. Dizziness takes over and your headache worsens; they're enough for your body to finally give in, causing you to stumble out of your desk chair and direct all gazes on you.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's just as impossible trying to ignore everyone, and it's even more difficult trying to stand up without making a complete fool of yourself.

Breathe in, breathe-

A hand's offered out to you; you accept it, yet you refuse to look at the person until you're back to your feet.

When you do look up, you recognize who the person is in an instant. It's the same man Sans had taken a picture with the day you first met. His hair looks different, but his face and clothing style remain the same. His hand stays holding yours until you assure him you're capable of standing straight again, and even then he still has his doubts. A subtle frown shows on his visage, fueled by concern.

"Are you alright, or should I call someone?" he asks, forehead creasing. "That fall looked pretty serious."

"I'm alright," you reply, managing a smile. You're still dizzy, the headache has only grown worse, and having people still looking in your direction doesn't help much with any of that, either. Even so, having him by your side along with a few other, approachable co-workers helps with bringing you back down to earth and allows you to find some more stability before going to meet with your boss. 

"Excuse me, (L/N), but…"

You turn to the voice to see a woman -- tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired -- offering you your phone. It takes some time, but you're able to recognize her as one of the few co-workers you spent your lunch break with before Frisk went missing. She's as professional as ever, and her formality still shows subtly through speech, yet it doesn't erase how warm and genuine her tone sounds. "Your phone broke with the fall." She pulls her hand back as soon as you have the device in your hold; her body language reveals she has a hunch in terms of just how 'alright' you really are, and what a twice-broken phone in less than a year could do to your current, physical and mental state alike. "It seems like it still works though, since it was ringing just a minute ago."

"Thank you." You turn it on to view a cracked screen. The update Alphys gave it appears to have made it more durable, based on how minor the damages are compared to the first time it fell. You're capable of unlocking it and even checking your notifications to notice you've got a few unread messages from Brenda and Frisk's school, coupled with a missed call from Sans. That last one is harder to take in. He already knew what hour you clocked out, and he had enough common sense and decency not to call you unless it was an emergency -- unlike Brenda, who didn't really know how to read the room, and Frisk's school, which called only when it was absolutely necessary. "I, uh…" You're not sure on what to do first. Brenda could be easily set aside with what she did during your lunch break, but the same couldn't be said for everything else.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You flinch at the sudden sensation of needles on your forehead and a dizziness so strong and wild, it makes your stomach far too queasy for you to manage with. Still, you combat that feeling by grabbing some gum from your belongings, taking a few, and chewing them all at once. The sharp taste and scent of mint helps wash away nausea, yet the dizziness persists.

"Do you want us to take you home, (L/N)?" the man from earlier asks, sounding more concerned than before. Meanwhile, the woman approaches you with some water, one you accept and drink as quickly as it falls in your hands. They both help sit you down on a different desk chair -- one without wheels to prevent you from falling over again. Most have left, while some stay and try to offer more aid. Your boss stands by the exit, arms crossed, stance firm, and face hard to read with how bad your symptoms have turned. "Or maybe accompany you to the bus stop, at least? You shouldn't drive in these conditions."

"It's…"

Your eyes fall on your phone again, tempted to make a decision.

With your priorities now changed to the subject of your health, you set Frisk's school aside with the knowledge they're with Toriel at this hour and forget about the meeting with your boss, aware she's already seen you from a distance. Only his name remains; truthfully, you'd rather limit how much time you spent with him, knowing what the opposite did to your heart and mind alike. You hesitate and stare blankly for a short while before you click on his missed call. One tap and two rings is all that's needed for you to reach him. It takes a second for you to answer back at him, half as much as it takes for your hand to stop shaking and for your voice to gain a better semblance of strength. It's too late to hang up now -- and his call could likely be an emergency -- so you continue forward with it.

"You don't sound too great. Everythin' okay?"

"About that…"

You share some words with him and refuse to tell him of your situation until he gives you his own reason for calling you at this hour.

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Small but Important™ Q&A regarding healthcare and whether it's American-based or not

To clarify for everyone else possibly having that same doubt, based on a question made by a reader in terms of Chapter Six and Seven's events:

All healthcare/medical attention mentioned in this story is based off my country, meaning it's either free or at the very least, affordable enough that you don't have to choose between an Uber or an overpriced weewoo vehicle in case of a medical emergency.

For example: I pay only $10 for 4 different medicines I'm meant to take, 3 which are for a lifetime (example: thyroiditis), and the only thing my insurance doesn't cover is optometry, which is around $300 to $500 a year for a full exam and prescription!

Tl;dr: It isn't. There's no debt here so far, lol.

• • •

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[alienheartattack]

Oooh fic game 😍 #5, #6 and #9 ??

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

I have a couple of WIPs that I've abandoned because the ideas are too complex and I've been trying to finish this pegging scene in my novel for, no joke, two months now. I posted the cottagecore idea a while back so here's my abandoned Hizuru fic, where Levi and Mikasa move there separately post-canon. They don't know the other one is there but they both have extensive contacts with Kiyomi, who manipulates them both in order to get them together. She ends up tricking them into getting married sight unseen and unwittingly participating in a very unique marriage ritual that results in them fucking like coked-out rabbits. (Kiyomi's goal is that they produce a bunch of Ackerman children, who will be trained as elite supersoldiers for Hizuru. Levi and Mikasa are horrified when they figure that out.)

The sunset blazed on the horizon as the steam liner pulled into the port at Shimamoto, casting a rich orange glow over the traditional peaked roofs of Hizuru, and for the first time in his forty-one years, Levi Ackerman fell in love. His breath caught in his throat, stopping dead at the sight of the most majestic landscape he'd ever seen, rugged coast giving way to lush green hills and, beyond that, the misty rise of the largest mountain he'd ever seen, capped with pure white snow like a painting.

“This is Hizuru,” came a voice next to him. “Or at least what remains of it.” Kiyomi Azumabito set her hands on the ship's railing, the sleeves of her primrose kimono fluttering in the East Sea wind. “The land of the rising sun.”

“I see what you call it that,” he murmured. “It's beautiful. I've never seen any place like it.”

“Sounds like someone who's already been seduced by our beautiful land.”

He scowled at Kiyomi's phrasing, imagining himself digging a little hole in the ground to literally fuck the land of Hizuru. The mental image of him pumping away, his bare ass in the air as he thrusted into the dirt, made him snort out a laugh.

“What's so funny?” she asked.

“Just remembered a joke someone told me,” he lied. “It's pretty vulgar. You probably don't want to hear it.”

“Oh. No, I don't.” That was one of the things he remembered from their preparatory meetings for the trip: not to speak of bathroom humor in mixed company, though the topics men discussed amongst themselves were their business. “No woman wants to hear you talking about shit,” she’d told him.

6: What are some topics you will never write about?

I feel like noncon is an obvious one, but even then I don't mind including it if the plot requires it (see below), I just wouldn't write a graphic rape scene. I also won't write any fics involving self-injury: I don't know how common it is nowadays but there was definitely a phase in my fandom life where people were writing a lot of angst fics that were basically just scenes of their fave character cutting themselves or preparing to kill themselves, and I find that stuff both gratuitous and pointless, as well as romanticizing SI. I get that people who self-injure might be writing it as a coping mechanism, but I've personally never read a fic like that that made a larger point about mental illness or whatever.

9: Are there any fics you’d love to see but don’t want to write yourself? What are they?

I would love to see an epic post-canon fic where Mikasa decides to move to Hizuru and claim the throne that is her birthright. This idea is slightly different plot-wise and way more fucked up than the Hizuru AU above, which focuses more on Mikasa trying to navigate this new society rather than trying to rule it. I wanted to write all of the intrigue and political machinations and war that followed Mikasa's rise to power but I was having trouble keeping everything IC (I don't think Mikasa would want to rule Hizuru, for one), the story would have been mostly OCs, and a lot of the subplots I imagined were extremely fucking dark — Levi being kidnapped for Ackerman supersoldier reasons as above except he's kept as a prisoner and sexually abused, Mikasa forcing Kiyomi to cut off some of her own fingers as a show of loyalty in order to avoid death by torture for orchestrating Levi's abuse, that kind of shit — so I abandoned the idea.

Ask me some fic-related questions!