#the full contents of it is about but i do know it's a multi part eassy about the topic of incest in rgu

[wildflowercryptid]

tealmaskshipping has infected my brain so severely so here are some very specific things ( like themes & imagery ) i accociate with mjverse!kieflo :

kieran-specific — hydrangeas & hinoki cypress, glitches, folkflore, nightsky, angel / bird wings, yellow + red-violet + green, the porygon line, darling by materu ( jayzeroey ver. linked bc i really love it ) & figure you out by djo

florian-specific — lily of the valley & yellow roses, mythology & fables, mornings, butterfly / moth wings, scarlet & vermillion, the rotom line, fireflies never came by harumaki gohan & dandelion by iyowa

hedgehog's dilemma

destiny knot / red string of fate ( with it tangling around kieran's neck & florian's legs )

mutual obsession & idolization

cupid & psyche

and suddenly everything is different. they have looked at each other.

sacrifice of the self ( sacrificing one's identity vs. sacrificing one's safety )

leaning on each other ( for support or as a display of affection )

unyielding devotion

deep admiration

stars

fireworks

daybreak / sunrises

anemone & bellflowers

shades of magenta

the applin line ( and apples in general )

songs — goodbye, my danish sweetheart by mitski, friends with you by the scary jokes, fireworks in the summer end by jin

[emphistic]

i’m afraid i’m not too specific, i just read your pucker up, buttercup and that seems like what happened before they started dating

i honestly don’t know if you’re writing a multi chapter series about this specific sukuna bf or it’s different from each one, but can you do something like his friend hitting sukuna with the “can i like your friend?” about reader so sukuna becomes jealous and claimed reader

if not, it’s alright, looking forward to reading more of your works :))

A/N: hi! just to clear up some confusion, my General Masterlist is full of works that are stand-alones (not in any series) — but i guess some of them could be read as works from the same universe. on the other hand, all works part of my Boy Nextdoor Series Masterlist are in the same universe/au and the same timeline.

anywho, here’s your request

Sukuna used his jersey to wipe the sweat off his face. The gymnasium was still full of shouts by angry fans, hollers by exuberant fans, and sweaty basketball players — of course including himself.

His team had just won another of their games and all Sukuna wanted to do was to take a quick shower, change, and spend the rest of the evening relaxing, with you. But alas, the duties of a team captain were far from tranquil.

For, he soon heard the squeaking of shoes approaching him. Sukuna didn't turn around, wholeheartedly expecting it to be just another person trying to shoot their shot and get his number. But he was wrong; it was actually quite opposite.

"Yo, Captain! You're close with Y/N, right? Could you maybe hook me up with her? I think she might be the one for me," Jacob — a friend of Sukuna — spoke, in a loud and obnoxiously masculine voice.

Gojo — another of Sukuna's teammates — spits out his water, laughing in the background. "He's gonna be an Adam 2.0*, I'm calling it," Gojo nudged his friend Geto — another of Sukuna's teammates — with his elbow.

*allusion to Oblivion

Sukuna huffed, turning around and raising a brow at the younger man, "Hell no," before walking away to the locker room. Jacob let out an audible 'huh?' before he turned to look at Gojo. "What's his problem?"

"Haha, you seriously don't know, man? Aren't you and Sukuna friends or something?" Gojo continued to laugh.

Geto frowned at his friend's behavior towards Jacob, "Don't worry about it, dude. There's plenty of other fish in the sea . . . just try not to get eaten by shark."

This made Jacob go 'huh?' again.

All the while, Sukuna went to finish up his shower and change, before exiting the locker room and searching for you. He walked up and down the court, waited outside the women's restrooms, looked under the bleachers (in case you had fallen through), but you were no where to be found.

Sukuna was completely and utterly puzzled. Where could you possibly be?

He didn't even get the chance to kiss you after his game; Sukuna's lips contorted into a pout.

Defeated, Sukuna resorted to just going to the parking lot and waiting for you by the car. When he neared the said car and saw your figure already sitting in the passenger seat on your phone, Sukuna started to pick up his pace.

"Hi, baby. Congratulations on your win," you placed your phone onto your lap when Sukuna entered the driver's seat. Sukuna frowned, making you ask, "What?"

"Tch. Nothing," Sukuna crossed his arms.

"You're so demanding," you giggle, pulling Sukuna in by the collar and meeting his lips with yours.

Sukuna smiled against your lips, humming in content.

You pulled away, "Why'd you take so long?"

"Was lookin' for you. But I guess you were already waiting f'me in the car."

"Ah, my bad. Anyways, what should we have for dinner? Or would you rather prefer eating out, since you won your game. It'll be on me," you laced your fingers with Sukuna's on the car's console.

"Let's eat out. And — I appreciate the offer, baby, I really do, but we all know I'm never letting you pay."

-

The next time you go to another of Sukuna's basketball games, Jacob finally grows the balls to talk to you himself — albeit, he was still confused from last week about why Sukuna wouldn't give him your number.

You mindlessly tap on your phone, waiting for Sukuna to meet you at the bottom of the bleachers — where you currently stand.

Out of the blue, you feel two arms wrap themselves around the curve of your waist before their owner pulls you in for a kiss. Sukuna, you think, as you kiss him back.

"Congrats, baby!" You pull Sukuna closer into a hug.

"Uh huh," that was all Sukuna could say, as he focused on making sure Jacob saw that you were wearing the jersey that he had forced you to wear. His jersey. His last name on your back. His team number.

All the while, Jacob stood with his mouth agape. From that day on, he never tried to approach you, much less looked in your direction ever again, in fear of his captain kicking him off the team.

A/N: Sukuna is such a baby, but he's my baby — this wasn't beta read btw, sorry; i cringe while reading my own writing

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

[saturnville]

t- shirt, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x malika (black fem oc) content: in which wearing his shirt brings her comfort. warnings: 18+ steam + sexual situations and descriptions song reference: t-shirt by destiny's child wc: 1.5k

In-season was her least favorite season. Sure, she enjoyed seeing her partner in his element--world champion and multi-title holder leaving his heart on the track. But, the innermost parts of her, the selfish parts of her, hated when he was gone. It had been over 14 days since she’d seen him and she was losing patience as the days went on. 

She could travel financially, but leaving her students behind was not a sacrifice she could make frequently. The life of a professor, she noted. So, while he was in another country with timezone hours ahead, she sat on his side of the bed, propped against a pillow that smelled like his hair products, twiddling the rings around her left finger and staring at reruns of old reality television shows.

The quart of ice cream was long forgotten and she almost regretted finishing her chips so early on in the day. She hummed softly and tapped her fingertips against the remote, the tips of her nails singing an unclear tune. 

Her phone buzzed rhythmically along the side table. Her eyes darted toward the screen. Lover flashed across the screen in bright white letters. Her heart leaped as she swiped her phone from the table and answered in one breath. 

“Hi,” she greeted cheerfully. She was laser-focused on his face as it came into view. He was looking toward the right and she caught the most beautiful view of his side profile. The sun of the country he was in seemed to do him well as his complexion was deeper but just as stunning as it always had been. His earrings glistened beneath the lights of the bedside lamp. Her eyes traced the tattoo across his neck and wondered how long it’d be until she’d trace it with her lips. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” The hat he wore covered his eyes, but she caught a glimpse of them as he adjusted the camera angle. They were so big and brown, just sparkling and full of contentment. Her body warmed. 

She smiled bashfully and her cheeks warmed at the nickname. It would never get old and she loved it just as much as she did years ago. She propped her phone against the empty ice cream pint and shuffled toward the headboard. “How was today?” 

“It was good, I can’t complain. How was yours?” He then mirrored her actions and propped his phone on a nearby surface. He looked comfy, she noted. Dressed in the sweatpants she purchased for Christmas and an oversized shirt. 

“I miss you,” she said shortly. Her husband turned his head and cooed softly, reassuring her that he’d be back with her in due time. His adventures were soon ending, and within a day, he would be right where he was before he left--with her. She wasn’t amused, however. “I know, I know.” 

“Cheer up, love,” he tapped the screen with his index finger. “Flight leaves soon; give me a few more hours and I’m all yours. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow to confirm his promise. He raised his pink to the sky and brought it toward the phone. She did the same. “Promise. Get some rest, I’ll see you soon, alright? I love you.” 

She exchanged the same sentiments, blew a kiss, and hung up the phone. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

-

Her favorite article of clothing gripped her frame in a way that reminded her of his hands. He wore a simple short-sleeved, navy blue tee shirt often, but she swiped whenever she had the opportunity. It cuffed at the sleeves and his scent was etched within the threads. Normally, the sweater fit loosely on him, but with the fullness of her hips and the plushness of her belly, it clenched her sides comfortably in a way that both he and herself enjoyed.

She was wrapped in her favorite gray blanket. It was a recent gift he bought for her at random. She remembered him telling her he was eyeing it when he was out and about and knew she’d love it, and love it she did.

She fisted the blanket underneath her chin and leaned further into her pillow, her eyes trained on the television ahead of her that was playing an episode of Graceland. The show kept her company while her husband handled business. 

She hoped he would be home at a decent hour, but it was going on at midnight and she had yet to hear his car entering the garage. She sighed deeply, at least he’d have something for dinner when he came home. She had the intention of sharing a good dinner with him and cuddling the night away, but those plans were diminishing as the minutes ticked by.

Temporarily, she tore her eyes away from the television screen and swiped her hand along the bed in search of her phone. She sent him a quick text.

Malika

I miss you, baby

It took only a few moments for her phone to alert her of a message from him. A smile graced her lips.

Hubby

I miss you too. Packing up the car; I’ll be home soon. Another 30 minutes, baby.

Malika

K, be safe. I love you

Hubby

Love you more.

She then tossed her phone to the side and resumed watching her show until her husband arrived. She didn’t realize sleep almost had its grasp on her until she heard the robotic voice of the alarm system and a key rattling within the door lock. She flicked the blanket off her body and sat up slowly, stretching her tired limbs. She swung her feet over the bed and slowly padded out of the bedroom and down the dark steps.

She followed where the light led and saw her husband leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring at the timer on the microwave.

“Hi,” she squealed out softly, making Lewis turn his head. His braids, tied in a ponytail under his cap, swung slowly. He smiled at her, dropped his arms, and beckoned her near. “My gorgeous girl…” he said lowly, running his fingers across her sprawled hair. His hand traveled down her face and his thumb traced her lips. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

“Mhm,” she hummed. She pulled away just slightly and eyed his physique with no shame. Her husband was a good-looking man and she enjoyed basking in his beauty. He tilted his head to the side, noticing her lowering eyes and swaying body. “Sleepy?” Malika nodded. While her day wasn’t as long as his, she was tired. Being a professor wasn’t for the weak and she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. 

“Get in bed, love,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands along her arms. She shook her head. “I will when you come upstairs.” She missed him so much and just wanted to be near him.

The microwave beeped behind them.

“I’ll stay down here,” Malika insisted, pulling away from him to sit at the dining room table. “tell me about your day. You raced well.”

His smile was charming as he swirled his food around with his fork and recapped the days he spent away. Of course, there was sightseeing, food tasting, drinking, and fellowship, but it was still work. So, none of the frustrations about the car, the managers, and other stressors were bypassed during their discussion. He even let it slip that a group of enchanted fans had a minuscule concept of personal space, especially about a married man. Malika shrugged. It came with the territory and as long as her husband knew how to handle it, that was her primary concern. 

“Well, baby, some people are bolder than others. They can look but never can they touch.” Malika giggled, leaning forward on her elbows. He took a bite and nodded with pursed lips. He’d be damned. 

Lewis leaned back in the seat and dropped his hands to his lap. He smiled for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. He said, “I feel like I’m talking about me too much and not enough of you. How was your day?”

Malika shook him off, enjoying hearing his voice after only getting a good morning, have a good day, and I love you before they both had to rush out of the door for their jobs. “I like hearing about your day.”

“Nothing arguing with managers and being in a hot suit for hours is amusing, baby,” he chuckled. “how’d that test go with the students?”

Malika’s students had a test over legal precedents and the historical events that prompted their passing and implementation into law. Most of them passed, which fueled her pride but also made her realize that she needed to change her methods in one way or another to ensure the other three students who struggled got the help they needed. The course was difficult and it should have been, but she was willing to make changes once she received feedback from the students.

“They did so well,” Malika gushed. “except three, so I need to talk to them, but I’m glad everything went smoothly. I was nervous, this was the first test I’ve given.” Being a new professor at the collegiate level, (after having dropped out of her doctoral program and then returning), she was nervous about how good she’d be as an educational instructor, but the growth of her students proved that she was great at her job.

Lewis caught how her eyes gleamed with pride as she spoke about and smiled softly. He was more proud of her progress over the last years, seeing that her hard work had been paid off. He took her hand into his as his lips brushed over her knuckles. “Proud of you, my love.” Malika gushed and thanked him. They spent a few minutes going into more miscellaneous details of their days before standing to take refuge in their bedroom.

His eyes followed her frame as he closed the door behind him. “Is that my shirt?” He asked, closing the door behind him. Malika turned over her shoulder with a small smile. She nodded and pulled back the comforters. 

“It is,” she replied. “as much as I like it on you, I think it looks better on me.” She turned towards him. “Might look even better on the floor though.” His eyebrows lifted in interest. The look on her face was teasing. Her eyes sparkled with familiar mischief, the corner of her lips was raised, and her eyebrow quipped slightly. Her fingers danced along the hem of his shirt, curling along the edge to lift it, but, his quick strides and strong hands stopped her. 

He stood in front of her at the side of the bed. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but the confidence he possessed and his muscular frame gave the allusion that he towered over her. The warmth in his eyes grew hot and flames threatened to burn her insides. She could feel her loins stir with desire the longer their eyes stayed on one another. 

“You sure?” he asked, replacing her hands with his own. His palms were warm as they slid up her thighs, slid over her bottom, and gripped firmly. Her eyes fluttered closed and a whisper, yes, came from her. He hummed and hooked his finger around the thin panties that covered absolutely nothing. He pulled. She yelped. “On the bed.”

Malika moved faster than lightning. She brought her hands to her hair and prepared to pull her locs into a ponytail, but her husband’s headshake of disapproval made her arms fall. She’d forgotten how much he loved them. She laid on her back, hair sprawled against the pillows, chest heaving in anticipation, and thighs shaking from the sight of him alone. 

He was now above her, pulling the black headband off his head. He tossed it across the room. His shirt followed. Malika couldn’t resist reaching out to caress his skin. Her fingertips traced the large compass in the middle of his chest. They trickled downward toward the waistband of his pants, which they tugged on roughly. “Careful, darling.” His tone was teasing but she wasn’t in the mood for games. 

“Just love on me, please.” Always prepared to please, he took her hands in his, brushed his lips over the knuckles, then pulled his shirt over her body, dropping it on the floor. Even though they’d been together for years and love-making was not uncommon, he was in awe every time he looked at her. As a result, she felt shy under his gaze, still in awe about the fact that he loved her, all of her. 

“I love you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as he gave her everything she wanted. The intensity, the passion, the desire. It had her writhing and shaking beneath him, all a beautiful sight to see. Her mouth was open and her lips damp from her tongue darting out to moisturize them. Her neck stretched as she struggled to stay still, her skin decorated with small marks that would bruise by the morning. And her eyes, her big brown eyes were glossy as her end was near.  “My pretty girl. You love me, baby?” 

Words were caught in her throat and all she could manage was a nod. Lewis tsked. “I asked you a question, love.” He slowed his movements, which pulled a sorrowful sigh from her. His eyebrow quipped. 

“Yes, yes! I love you, baby! Always…” 

Her confessions brought him to an end he wasn’t expecting to reach so quickly. Malika whimpered quietly as her husband worked her down from the high she rode. Slowly, her eyes opened and he smiled dopily, caressing her lover’s face with trembling hands. 

The gaze they held was filled with so much love and adoration. They looked like the lovesick teenagers they were when they met years ago, so enamored and full of one another. After some time, she said hoarsely, “I’m glad you’re home.” 

He pressed his lips against her cheek. “Me too, baby.”

Surrounded by the remnants of their love-making, they found solace in each other's embrace. With whispered words of affection and tender caresses, they whispered sweet nothings to one another before fatigue covered them like a blanket. They held to each other tightly, refusing to loosen their grip. Their love would always be their sanctuary, the stronghold that kept them bound together, always.

[simpforfandom231]

I don't forget too well PT1

Slightly obsessed with Reneé Rapp.

warnings: this will be a multi part. ADHD, Fluff.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft glow of the television illuminated the cozy living room, casting a warm ambiance over Renée Rapp and her girlfriend, Y/N. The room was filled with the familiar scent of popcorn, evidence of their movie night ritual. Renée reclined on the couch, her tough exterior momentarily replaced by a relaxed posture as she cradled the remote control in one hand.

Y/N nestled against Renée, finding comfort in the warmth of her girlfriend's presence. Their fingers interlaced, creating a silent connection between them. As scenes of an action-packed movie unfolded on the screen, Renée couldn't help but share her thoughts in her characteristic no-nonsense style.

"Did you see that move? That's how you handle business," Renée remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice as a particularly badass character dispatched a group of enemies on screen.

Y/N chuckled, lifting her head to meet Renée's gaze. "You know, babe, that's just like you. Tough on the outside, but a total softie deep down."

Renée smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "Softie, huh? I'll have you know I'm as tough as they come."

Y/N grinned, unconvinced. "Oh please, Renée. I've seen you tear up during those emotional scenes. You're a total marshmallow."

Renée feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. "Hey now, those scenes are just... emotionally charged. Doesn't mean anything."

As the movie continued, their banter seamlessly blended with the on-screen action. The dialogue between Renée and Y/N was a delightful mix of teasing and affection, creating a dynamic that was both entertaining and heartwarming.

In the midst of the movie, Y/N snuggled even closer to Renée. "But seriously, babe, it's one of the things I love about you. You're like a tough cookie with a gooey center."

Renée couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips. "Well, you're my princess. Gotta protect that gooey center of yours."

The final credits rolled on the screen, signaling the end of the movie, yet Y/N had no intention of relinquishing her spot on the couch. She remained nestled against Renée, her reluctance to move evident in the way she tightened her grip on Renée's hand.

Renée, ever the multitasker, pulled out a book and began to read. However, her eyes couldn't help but stray from the pages to steal glances at Y/N. There was a subtle yearning in Renée's gaze, a desire for the kind of affection only Y/N could provide.

"You know, princess, I can't focus on this book when you're looking so cute over there," Renée teased, a playful grin on her face.

Y/N chuckled, squeezing Renée's hand. "Maybe I don't want you to focus on the book, Mommy."

Renée raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, is that so? Well, I can't resist my princess's wishes." She set the book aside, giving Y/N her full attention.

As Y/N settled back into Renée's embrace, she decided to change the mood. A soft melody filled the room as Y/N selected a playlist. The gentle strains of a familiar song began to play, and Renée's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Ah, 'Tattoo.' This one's personal for me," Renée remarked, her fingers tracing the invisible ink on her skin that held stories only she could decipher.

Y/N, being an empath due to her ADHD, felt a knot tighten in her chest as the lyrics unfolded. The emotional depth of the song tugged at her heart, and she gazed at Renée, trying to navigate the surge of feelings coursing through her.

Renée, however, saw it differently. For her, "Tattoo" represented a chapter in her life, a story that had been written and resolved. She didn't carry the pain of the past like she did when she first penned the song.

As the song progressed, Y/N couldn't help but ask, "Babe, how do you manage to stay so composed when your own song plays?"

Renée smiled, her eyes holding a mix of nostalgia and contentment. "It's like revisiting an old chapter. It shaped me, but it doesn't define me anymore. I'm in a different place now, with you."

Y/N nodded, still grappling with the emotions stirred by the music. "It's just... I feel everything so intensely. Your pain becomes my pain."

Renée reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face. "Hey, I appreciate that. But remember, I'm okay now. You don't have to carry that burden. Focus on the present, on us."

Y/N nodded again, taking a deep breath and trying to anchor herself in the present moment. The remainder of the song played out, and as the final notes faded away, Y/N snuggled even closer to Renée.

"Thanks, babe," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and love.

Renée pressed a tender kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Anytime, smooch. Now, let's create some new memories, ones that make the old ones fade away."

As they embraced, the room bathed in the soft glow of the music, they embarked on a journey of their own, weaving a narrative that surpassed any movie or song—a love story uniquely theirs.

The night continued, with Renée and Y/N immersed in the comforting cocoon of their shared space. The glow of the television had faded, leaving only the soft ambience of the room's dim lights. Y/N, still in the midst of their embrace, couldn't shake a persistent restlessness. Her fidgeting was a telltale sign for Renée—Y/N's ADHD was on the verge of spiking.

Renée, ever the attentive partner after four years together, gently caressed Y/N's cheek. "Babe, what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

Y/N sighed, her eyes flitting around the room. "I don't know, it's just... I need something, you know? Like, right now."

Renée chuckled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Ah, the ADHD cravings strike again. Anything specific or just a general 'something'?"

Y/N paused, her eyes widening with realization. "Food. Definitely food. I can't stop thinking about it."

Renée smirked, realizing this was going to be a night of spontaneous adventures. "Alright, what are you in the mood for, princess?"

Y/N's face lit up with excitement. "Pizza. Definitely pizza. And maybe some ice cream after. Oh, and those cheesy breadsticks!"

Renée laughed, pulling Y/N up from the couch. "Well, it looks like we're embarking on a midnight food quest. To the kitchen!"

As they navigated the kitchen, Renée couldn't help but tease, "You know, we had plans for a date tomorrow. Could've saved this food adventure for then."

Y/N shot her a mischievous grin. "Well, tomorrow is a different day. Tonight is all about indulgence."

The aroma of pizza filled the air as they eagerly waited for it to bake. Y/N couldn't contain her excitement, bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

"You really know how to keep things interesting, babe," Renée remarked, grabbing a bag of popcorn to snack on while they waited.

Y/N, unable to stay still, replied with a playful smile. "Life's too short for predictability, right?"

Renée chuckled, realizing the truth in Y/N's words. "True. And you, my love, bring an endless supply of surprises."

Finally, the timer beeped, announcing the completion of their late-night feast. Y/N practically skipped to the oven, pulling out the pizza with a triumphant grin.

Renée poured some drinks, raising her glass in a toast. "To spontaneous midnight feasts and to my amazing, unpredictable princess."

They clinked glasses, savoring the warmth of the moment. As they settled back on the couch, devouring slices of pizza and sharing laughs, the room was filled with the joy that came from embracing the unexpected.

Renée leaned in, stealing a quick kiss from Y/N between bites. "Tomorrow, we'll go on that date, I promise."

Y/N nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "Deal. But for tonight, let's revel in the spontaneity of our love."

The night wore on, and the energy in the room shifted. Y/N's ADHD, heightened by the stress of a demanding day at school, reached its peak. Her usually vibrant energy became a torrent of restlessness, and Renée, ever attuned to her girlfriend's moods, sensed the struggle beneath the surface.

Renée set aside her work, concern etching her features. "Hey, princess, everything okay?"

Y/N sighed, her hands fidgeting with anything within reach. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit wound up, you know?"

Renée furrowed her brow, recognizing that there was more beneath the surface. "Babe, you can tell me. I can see it's more than just 'a bit wound up.'"

Y/N hesitated, torn between wanting to shield Renée from her worries and the undeniable need for support. Finally, she opened up, "It's just... school was overwhelming today. Presentations, deadlines, the whole package. I didn't want to bother you while you were in the studio."

Renée cupped Y/N's face gently. "You're never a bother, love. We're in this together. Your stress is my stress."

Y/N managed a small smile, appreciating Renée's understanding. "I know, but I didn't want to add to your load. You're working on your music, and I'm proud of you for that."

Renée kissed Y/N's forehead, her love evident in the gesture. "And I'm proud of you, too. But let's tackle this together. How about we take Winston for a run? A little evening jog to shake off the stress?"

Y/N's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That actually sounds perfect. I need to burn off some of this excess energy."

Renée grinned, grabbing their dog's leash. "Winston's in for a treat. And you, my love, are in for a well-deserved release."

As they stepped outside, the cool night air enveloped them. Winston, their lively canine companion, wagged his tail in excitement. The three of them began their evening run, the rhythmic pounding of their footsteps echoing in the quiet streets.

Renée glanced at Y/N, who was fully immersed in the physical activity, her fidgeting slowly transforming into a more purposeful movement. "Feel the stress melting away, babe?"

Y/N nodded, the wind tousling her hair. "Yeah, it's like I'm leaving it all behind with every step."

Renée couldn't help but admire Y/N's resilience. "You're incredible, you know that? Handling everything with such grace."

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of Renée's praise. "And you, Mommy, are my rock. Always there to steady me."

They continued their run, the moon casting a gentle glow on their path. The rhythmic beats of their steps matched the cadence of their conversation, creating a harmonious symphony of support and understanding.

As they reached the end of their run, Y/N's breathing had steadied, and the tightness in her chest had loosened. Renée, catching her breath, pulled Y/N into a tight embrace.

"Better?" Renée asked, her voice a soft whisper against Y/N's ear.

Y/N nodded, grateful for the healing power of a good run and the unwavering support of her partner. "Much better. Thanks for always being there, babe."

Renée kissed Y/N's forehead, their bond stronger than ever beneath the moonlit sky. "Anytime, smooch. We're a team, remember?"

With Winston by their side, they made their way back home, leaving the stress of the day behind and embracing the calming embrace of the night—a reminder that, together, they could weather any storm.

The night continued its gentle descent, and Renée and Y/N found themselves in the comforting routine of getting ready for bed. Renée, typically not one for meticulous planning, had adopted a routine that involved listing the events of the next day—a routine inspired by Y/N's need to prepare and avoid overstimulation.

"Okay, babes, let's go over the plan for tomorrow," Renée said, grabbing a notepad and pen.

Y/N smiled, appreciating Renée's effort to make their lives more organized. "Sure thing, cutie. Lay it on me."

Renée began listing the events with a serious expression, trying to mimic Y/N's method. "So, we have two interviews for the Mean Girls movie in the morning. Then, you have that presentation at school about economics in the morning as well. After that, I've got a studio session for two hours in the afternoon."

Y/N nodded, mentally preparing for the day ahead. "Got it, snuggles. Sounds like a busy day for both of us."

Renée smirked, still getting used to these pet names but secretly enjoying the endearments. "You know, I never thought I'd be into this whole planning thing, but it does make life a bit easier."

Y/N chuckled, wrapping her arms around Renée. "See, babes, organization isn't that bad. And you're doing it all for me."

Renée pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Anything for you, my love. If it helps you, I'm all in."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of gratitude for Renée's willingness to adapt. "You're amazing, you know that? I never thought someone like you would accept someone like me and my chaos."

Renée's eyes softened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "Chaos or not, you're the best thing that happened to me. I want to take care of you, make things a little smoother for you."

Y/N felt her heart swell with affection. "And you do, every day. I'm lucky to have you, babes."

With their bedtime routine complete, Renée turned off the lights, and they snuggled under the blankets. As they drifted off to sleep, the room was filled with a quiet contentment—a reflection of the love and understanding that defined their relationship.

The next day arrived, with its whirlwind of activities. Renée, in between interviews and studio sessions, sent Y/N encouraging messages, making sure she was doing well with her presentation. Y/N, in turn, sent virtual kisses and words of support, grateful for the bond they shared.

As the day unfolded, filled with moments of chaos and calm, Renée and Y/N navigated the challenges together, a team in the truest sense. The interviews, the presentation, the studio session—all were conquered, not as separate tasks but as shared victories.

And as they reunited at the end of the day, exhaustion giving way to the satisfaction of overcoming the day's hurdles, Renée whispered, "We did it, cutie. Teamwork, always."

Y/N smiled, snuggling closer to Renée. "Always, snuggles. I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this crazy journey."

[louloulemons-posts]

Cuddles and Stew

StepDad!Eddie X Mom!Reader

Summary : The third instalment of Margot - you get sick and Margot calls Eddie

Word Count : 2.2k

Warnings : Not proofread, half was written at 4am lol, petnames, cuteness, talks of illness and pain meds, margots just adorable, girl dad eddie, mainly margot and eddie content - not much reader.

A/N : sorry for lack of updates, i’m working hard on the multi part fic and am going into a writers block lmao 🫶🏻 sorry loves, hopefully more should be coming soon.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Lay underneath his vans, Eddies hands were dirty as he tried to fix a ticking sound. He heard the faint ringing of the phone from inside the trailer and Wayne pick it up.

The squeak of the trailer door, made him slide from under the van, “Eddie it’s for you,” the man said, urgency in his voice. It made Eddies brow furrow as he wiped his hands and jogged to him.

“Hello?”he spoke.

“Eddie?” A voice he wasn’t expecting.

“Mar? That you sweet girl?”

“Yes,” she spoke softly.

“Is everything okay? How come you’re calling me?” he asked, obviously he adored that she was, but he was concerned he couldn’t hear you whispering to her in the background.

“Something wrong with Mama. Mama said this number for ‘mergecy.”

“Hey I’ll be right there okay? You got sit with mom and do not answer the door, I’ll be there soon baby I promise.”

“Okay,” the young girl said softly.

Ripping his greasy clothes off, changed into the first things he found. “Hey I need to borrow your car,” he spoke to Wayne, panicking.

“Yeah son sure, everything okay? Little Miss doesn’t normally call.” Eddie explained, shoving his foot in his trainers and grabbing Wayne’s car keys.

“Well call me and let me know how she is son,” he said, as Eddie climbed into the vehicle. Speeding away, he knew the neighbours would complain to Wayne about reckless driving.

He didn’t care, he needed to get to his girls.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Putting his key in the lock, he pushed open the door. The house seemed fairly quiet, TV chattering away faintly. “Baby?” he called out.

No answer. Your car was here so you were home. “Margot? Margot are you here?” he tried again peeking round into the living area.

“Daddy!” A whisper shout came from the top of the stairs. There was Margot, hair frizzy from sleep, her favourite pyjamas and one sock. “Hi Sweetheart, where’s mom?”

“Here!” she did a summoning motion with her hands, so he bounded up the stairs to meet her. She took his hand and led him down the hallway.

You were sat at the end of the bed, on the floor. Head between you knees, breathing deeply. “Mama,” Margot said gently, kneeling next to you, “Mama wook, Eddie.”

With eyes scrunched in pain and confusion, you lifted your head. Meeting his brown eyes, you couldn’t fathom why he was here. “E-Eddie, what are you doing here?” you asked.

You looked awful, skin pale and flushed at the same time. You looked exhausted, body breaking down in a way. “Margot called me.”

“What?”

“Numbers for ‘mergencies Mama.”

Tears welled in your eyes, you felt awful. You’d sat down because your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you thought it would be the safest place. “Oh Mar I’m so sorry,” you sniffled.

Eddie came and crouched next to you now, holding your head gently. “It’s otay Mama, Eddie make you bedder,” she spoke, resting her head on you.

A large palm was on your forehead, lovely and cool. “Babe, you’ve got a fever. Come on we’ve gotta get you into bed. Rest, fluids, sleep.”

“What? No! I can’t, I gotta get up,” pushing yourself up the ground, it wasn’t even a full second before you were coming back down.

Head buzzing and pounding.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got to let me look after you.”

“B-but, Margot and work!” you panicked.

“Baby, come on calm down,” he held your face in his palms, “I’m gonna look after Mar, and hey it’s a long weekend. So you can rest up.”

Sighing you nodded, “I need new pyjamas.”

“I ged dem!” Margot spoke, running to your draws. Her voice made your head pound, the volume of everything seemed to be amplified.

Pulling out your favourite pair, ones that matched those she currently had on, she brought them to you. “Thanks baby,” you said, gently stroking her hair.

“Okay, get changed okay, me and Nurse Margot will get you some water and other things you need,” Eddie spoke, helping you to your side of the bed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Margot stood on her step-stool, filling your water bottle at the tap. “Da, it’s done,” she said, so he could come and do the lid. He grabbed pain killers, tissues, cold juice from the fridge. He was also heating some water for a hot water bottle.

“Good job Bubby,” he smiled, kissing the girl on the head. Soon enough the kettle whistled letting him know it was done, “You stay over there okay? This is very hot.”

After he filled the water bottle he let Margot carry the tissues and your cold water bottle up the stairs to your. You were lay under the covers, eyes closed, now clad in your new pyjamas.

“Here you go Mama,” the small girl said quietly, placing the water and tissue next to you. Eddie did the same, but lifted the blanket slightly so he could put the hot water bottle under it.

Pulling the curtains closed, he hoped that’d help your head. “You stay with Mom for a second, I’m just gonna get a compress for her head,” he said to Margot.

Wetting a washcloth so it’d cool you down, although you were freezing right now, he had no doubt you’d be sweating in a minute or two. “Here you go,” he pushed you hair back, letting the refreshing feeling take over your body.

“Sweetheart, you need to take these too,” he handed you the medication and drink, helping you sit up. Eyes still shut, unable to deal with any kind light.

Once you laid back down he spoke again, “You rest now. Me and Margot will go make us all something yummy and come back later to check on you.”

Picking the small child up from your side, you head a faint, “Bye Mama, wove you.” Which you repeated in a slurred and sleepy way. Snoozing away moments later.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Mama gone be otay?” The young girl asked from Eddies arms, as they went to the kitchen. “Yeah Sweetheart she’ll be okay, she’s just gotta get lots of sleep.” Margot hummed and cuddled into Eddie.

“We’re gonna make her some soup okay? Make her feel better.”

“I help!”

“Of course, we’ve gotta get some veggies from Aunt Maeves patch.”

The pair went into the garden, Maeve had said they can always help themselves. Updating everyone one what was ready to be harvested and what to leave.

In all honestly, Margot was the best person to have with him, she knew what plants were what and if they were ready - she spent lots of her days with Maeve in the garden becoming sun kissed.

“Okay so we need some potatoes, carrots, onions and I’m not sure what else.” Holding Margot on his hip as she was still only wearing the one sock, she pointed out all the different veggies they needed.

“Think we’re gonna need to make a few trips Love,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Auntie Mae has a bwasket,” she told him. “A basket, let’s go get it then.”

“Me help!”

“Bubby your feet will get grubby.”

“My boots!” She wriggled from Eddies hold, and ran to get her welly-boots. She looked a picture, pyjamas, crazy hair and wellies. Pulling a large basket behind her, Margot returned to Eddie.

Pulling a hair tie from his wrist, he comb it all into one hand and sat a loose bun on her head. She didn’t have much hair cause she was still small, but there was enough to annoy her. “Twanks Da,” she said, and went to the potatoes.

“I got-ta big one!” she squealed as she shook the dirt off. “Good job Mar, we need 3 more of those okay?” Eddie crouched down beside her, putting the basket between them so she could put the veggies in.

“And Two! … And ree! … And dats Fo-wr.”

“Good job! Let’s go and get some carrots.” Running away, Margot boots stomped on the group. “Well hello you two.” Maeve stood at the door.

“Auntie Mae!” Margot smiled, waving with grubby hands. “Hello my dears, what’s going on here?” she asked, coming out into the garden. “We’re making soup,” Eddie said.

“Mama, not well. I call-ded Eddie and now we make soup!”

“Mom isn’t well?” she said, caressing the little ones hair, looking up at Eddie. “She’s got a fever. We’ve taken her everything she needs and she’s sleeping now, so we thought we cook her something nice.”

“That’s very kind of you. I can cook it if you’d like?” The older woman offered, kindly.

“Would you mind, I honestly have no idea what to put in it.”

“I’ll write you a recipe,” she smiled, crows feet by her eyes.

“Why don’t I finish getting all of this, and you can help Margot get ready for the day,” she smiled to Eddie, taking the basket from his hand. “Thank you Mae, Margot come on Sweetheart.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Soon enough Margot was clean and dressed, clad in a little blue dress with a white tshirt underneath. Both feet now covered by socks and hair under control.

“Hey Sweetheart, why don’t you go and see if you can help Mae,” Eddie spoke, and the small girl ran off. He headed into your room, you were snoozing away, you seemed to have cooled down. Placing a soft kiss to your sticky cheek.

He found Margot and Maeve in the kitchen, the little girl stood on her stood, helping chop the veggies with her plastic knife. She caught sight of Eddie and smiled, “Wook Da I choppin’!”

“You are, that’s some super good chops bubby.”

“How’s she doing?” Maeve asked.

“She’s still sleeping, she seems to have cooled down a lot.” Maeve hummed and continued to dice an onion.

“Eddie!” Margot said in a sing song voice, he hummed and stood behind her. “Can you put dem in the pot, pwease.”

“Sure babe,” he kissed her head and took the roughly chopped potatoes and carrots to the pot.

Soon enough it was simmering away, and Maeve had added some chicken. “It shouldn’t take too long,” the older woman said, taking Margot to living room you sat her on the couch.

“Eddie, is Mama otay?” the small girl asked.

“She will be, I promise. She just needs to sleep.” As soon as those words left his mouth, he heard the bedroom door open and soft padding feet down to the bathroom.

“Stay here,” he said to the small girl, jogging up the stairs. Knocking on the bathroom door he spoke gently, “Baby you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said faintly, exhaustion clear in your voice.

Opening the door up, you smiled weakly at the curly haired man. “How you feeling?”

“Tired. Thank you for looking after Mar.”

“Hey it’s no trouble, Maeves watching her right now. We’re making you stew? Soup? I’m not sure,” he laughed.

“It smells good,” you hummed.

“I’ll bring you some up when it’s done, I’m sure Mar will be joining me too. Let’s get you back to bed.” Helping you down the hall and to the bed, you sipped some water.

“Do you need another compress?” he asked. “No I’m okay, I’m feeling a little cold so.”

“Okay baby, well the water bottles still warm so it should be okay. Let’s tuck you in,” he smiled.

Placing your quilt and a thicker blanket over you, you hummed in contentment. “How’s your head?”

“It’s not hurting as much and I’m not as dizzy anymore.”

“Good good, it’s going then. How come you didn’t call me babe?”

“It started a few days ago, I didn’t think it was anything. Apparently I was wrong. I can’t believe Margot called you, what if I’d collapsed! What if she got hurt!” your eyes welled.

“Hey hey,” Eddie sat down beside you, “Baby it’s okay, she’s alright. She did so good, you taught her so well. She explained what she needed too and she stayed safe near you.”

“I just feel bad.”

“I know, but it’s not your fault. You’re sick, you can’t blame yourself baby. Okay?” you nodded at him. “Now get some sleep.”

Closing your eyes, the door clicked closed and Eddie headed back down to Maeve and Margot. “Mama otay?”

“Yeah she was just telling me she’s starting to feel a bit better.”

Maeve squeezed his shoulder, “Well the food should be done in a little while, why don’t we watch one of your movies?”

“Cina-rella?”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The three of you sat on the bed, a tray on your lap. Big bowl of warm soup and some crusty bread. “Oh it taste delicious! You guys did such a good job.”

“Feel better Mama?”

“Yeah Mar I feel better, thank you for looking after me. You did so good calling Eddie.”

“You did,” Eddie smiled, squeezing the little one who sat in his lap.

“Just did what chu said Ma,” she smiled.

“You did the best babe, that’s why you’re my best girl. We’ve gotta be careful though or you two will definitely get sick.”

Margot coughed. “Oh no.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[centrally-unplanned]

Watched a bunch of stuff last night, including the Alita OVA from 1993! I thought it was a lot of fun, the thoughts:

--- It did the "obvious" thing of adapting the romance arc with Yugo of Volume 2 as the core, while blending in the events of Volume 1 as sort of backstory and setup as opposed to their own story. This arc is Alita at her most humanized in the early parts of the manga, and its the plot that centers Zalem as the untouchable overlord city most effectively. Any short adaptation is gonna choose this - part of why James Cameron (lol) did the same thing!

--- Speaking of, the manga does not actually have any particular focus on Alita's eyes, but the anime definitely has more than one shot where it establishes them as thematically special. Given that the James Cameron film is famous for going full CGI on Alita's eyes, and he knows about the property from Guillermo del Toro passing him the OVA as opposed to the manga, I think I can see the chain of events that lead to that (ill-fated?) decision.

Her eyes are pretty amazing in the OVA, so I get it! As my previous reblogs showed lol.

--- I think I can break apart the manga into three "concepts": the setting as cyberpunk dystopia, Alita as a character dealing with identity issues as an amnesiatic combat robot, and shounen fighting & levelling arcs. The OVA heavily focuses on the first part, ditching almost all the shounen stuff - its fight scenes are quick and focus on violence & bodily destruction over strength or "fighting techniques", etc. This is great for me, obviously! But it also, almost accidentally, ditches most of her identity issues? Because its less than an hour long, and needs to do a ton of worldbuilding - including even adding in a new character from Zalem to help with that - and is doing Yugo's entire arc, you really don't have time left for Alita's struggles. Yugo actually gets more "inner depth" than she does! She commits to being a bounty hunter, then after that she is pretty much just In Love while Yugo goes through his detailing of his past and collapse.

I'm not saying it doesn't work, it does as a story. Just interesting for something that is known as very "protagonist associated" to have an OVA where she is barely the protagonist.

--- While no Urotsukidoji or anything, this is another one of those OVAs where its reputation, particularly in the west, is as a hyper-violent, gory OVA? And like so many it really isn't. People get decapitated, don't get me wrong, buts its never lingers on those moments. Instead they serve as tone setters for the crapsack world or just are part of the action sequences.

I think in general the OVA era rarely made horror/gore films the way some other mediums/industries did? There are exceptions of course but in the end anime is trying to do too many other things; beautiful animation, focus on character designs, often being adaptations and so doing the plot of those more complex stories, erotic content for audiences that aren't *that* fetishistic on average, and more. All of these priorities compete for space in comparison to having endless jumpscares and blood splatters. So far my track record for watching the famous "gorefest" or "~crazy~" anime is that every one of them is tamer than the rep suggests, and I believe this medium/genre mismatch is why.

--- The biggest question I have around Alita in general is why there was never any more anime? Its weird, right? Its a famous property from a beloved genre, it had a hollywood film for some crazy reason, things like Ghost in the Shell got multi-season anime after all. Why no feature film remake in the 2000's? Why no 13-cour in the 2010's? I don't have an answer to that yet.

Why the initial OVA was so minimal is at least partly answered by Kishiro here:

MNS: Many fans have wondered, why were only 2 anime OAV episodes produced in 1993? YK: It was based on the plan proposed by the animation production company. It might have been better to turn down the plan and wait for a better adaptation proposal to come up, but back then, I couldn't afford to review the plan coolly. At that time, I was still serializing the work and was so busy that I wasn't ambitious to make it into animation.

Essentially he took the "deal on hand", not offering much, because he didn't have the time, money, or business savvy to work the industry for a better proposal. 100% understandable. I don't think the OVA did too well? I can't find a lot of sales figures, but the comments I see are in the "respectable" range, and it didn't get quick or expansive rereleases over time.

More broadly, and again speculative, I think maybe Alita overall isn't that successful? Like sure Kishiro is still out here releasing more sequel manga to this day somehow, but when I look at the "media mix" its just really sparse. No big video game adaptations - it has a PlayStation game in the 90's - it has like a drama CD and a novelization? No big merch waves or tie-ins. I am betting the big anime production committees just don't think its a hot enough property to sell that great. Wouldn't be a bad idea or anything, but not one you have to do like idk Chainsaw Man.

In the western fandom spaces its quite well known because of the idiosyncrasies of licensing history, the weird James Cameron factor, and I think a general fascination with anime cyberpunk; the west eats up any of the older cyberpunk properties for its aesthetic in a way that can blind people to the reality of that just being a subgenre in Japan at the time. Alita might just be niche enough that it not getting any wider anime adaptations is no grand mystery.

(But I hope to dig into this question more)

[myobsessionsspace]

Jeongguk is so fucking cute. He is so whipped for his Jiminie hyung, it's not even funny.

Maybe a bit funny with the batting his lashes thing. Also, I'm a bit sad we never got that live - there's a universe out there where Jimin took JK up on his offers. That would be the timeline to be.

Little timeline question: the live JK did where he changed his fit several times, and ended up looking like Prince Eric (but better), was that on White Day?

Hi Lovely!

He’s just the cutest isn’t he! sorry Jungkook Ssi.

We definitely have to keep manifesting 😭 if we trust anything we can trust Jungkook’s determination when it comes to all things Jimin.

I mean this guy wouldn’t even let a single Jimin’s content go unwatched and not just watch it in silence, Oh Nooooo Jeon Jungkook commented like he was checking off his checklist of Jimin content, PJM much Jungkookie??

Your Question: “The live JK did where he changed his fit several times, and ended up looking like Price Eric (but better), was that on White Day?”

Short answer: Yesssss

Everyone I present to you......Disney Princes Jeon!

Now ARMY, I will allow you to get a little bit excited because this White Day live was set up by jungkook, it seems in everyway, to be a date night live!

Even his hyungs who dropped by to chat on the live caught the vibes

So y/n a little bit...I SAID A LITTLE BIT!

Get excited but not tooooo excited because as we know where one is, usually there's the other

And even when he had to stop watching the live, Jimin was still on Jungkook's mind. I mean he literally flew to New York the day before! Was on an opposite time zone but still came to watch Kookie's live

No the fanboy in the article wasn't JK😂

It's understandable that Jimin couldn't stay for all 4 parts of the live and the outfit changes.

This guy! lol🤭

Jungkook wrapped up his live to keep us focused on the important things, JIMIN'S SOLO DEBUT.

Set Me Free Pt. 2 Teaser was released midnight their time Teaser & Full MV

HEAD JIMIN STAN doing his part with the views in another weverse live.

Sorry Anon, I got caught up and rambled for way too long about this live!🙈

There's so much more that could be covered about the lives and the significance to Jikook, I'll stop here because so many bloggers have done this before me, and done it well!

Some lovely and in depth write-ups include one from:

@kanmom51

and also this multi-parter from @jmdbjk

Thank you Anon for reminding me of the warm and happy feelings his lives brought me.

💜

Just gonna leave this right here

As ALWAYS, please, please, please, watch original content and don't rely solely on the words of others, but directly from the members:

Jungkook Lives from March 14th 2023:

Live One, Live Two, Live Three and Live Four

[sotwk]

Breathe (Boromir x femReader)

Summary: You have harbored a deep, secret crush on Boromir for years, and have now been asked by him to dance.

Word count: 1.5k

Content: Romance, pining, yearning, longing (you get the point) Regency-inspired dance, fluff, started as a drabble but got way out of hand

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: This was supposed to be a Dance of Romance + Scars from @fellowshipofthefics’s January Trope Roulette, but the “Scars” part just never came out. Whoopsie. I guess I can’t claim credit for fulfilling the challenge, but FotF can claim credit for providing the prompt!

Update: This one-shot has been formally upgraded to the prologue of a multi-chapter Boromir x OC fic. More to follow soon!

Dedication: For @scyllas-revenge, a fellow Boromir stan whose talent I admire. My first ever Boromir fic is just a small thank you for being a cheerleader to me and other writers.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphicsphics

Breathe

Third Age 3008

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“I cannot breathe,” you whimpered to Anarlas, grasping at the sleeve of his tunic as he guided you from the edges of the crowd towards the center of the Great Hall. 

But your brother knew you too well and merely chuckled at your dramatics. “That is a bit problematic, given that a good air supply is necessary for dancing." He felt you pull back in resistance and stopped to examine you closely. "Do you really not wish to do this?" he asked softly. "Should I not have accepted the invitation on your behalf?" 

You stared up at him, wide-eyed as you struggled to process the last two minutes. One moment you were puttering back and forth aimlessly behind the pillars, content at the fringes of all the merrymaking, with just a cup of wine and your daydreams for company. All of a sudden Anarlas appeared and asked you to come with him, which you did in full trust…until he started to lead you into the noise and commotion instead of saving you from it, dashing your hope that he had decided to go home early, as you had implored for from the start. 

"There must be some mistake," you stammered. "Perhaps you heard him incorrectly." 

"The Captain was clear about his request. He could not have spoken more plainly: ‘Might I ask your sister for a dance?’.” Anarlas squeezed your arm and grinned. “And since he knows well that I have only one sister, there can be no mistake.”

You bit your lip before you could blurt out a ridiculous argument, that you still believed it possible Lord Boromir had you confused with some other woman. What other explanation could there be for him asking for you? On the evening of a kingdom-wide celebration, when every fair lady in Gondor was clamoring to gain even just a few moments of his attention? Who were you? Just a produce vendor with your own little stall in the lower markets of the White City. 

Your family, at least, was worthier of note. Your brother served directly under the Captain of the White Tower, and your father had been an even closer friend to him. He had trained the Steward’s young son in swordsmanship before falling in battle almost twenty years ago. You had been a mere infant then, still nursing at your mother’s breast. Then a few short years later on a particularly harsh winter, your mother succumbed to consumption, leaving you with Anarlas. 

Perhaps that was the logical explanation. Lord Boromir was granting you, a poor Gondorian orphan, this kindness in honor of your gallant father. Why he chose this particular occasion to do so, that was the greater mystery. 

Anarlas chucked you under the chin to call back your wandering mind. “You look beautiful,” he said gently. “If you ever wonder what Mother looked like, just find yourself a mirror.”

Hope bloomed inside your heart at his words, hewing through the shadows of anxiety and doubt. You wore her dress that evening, the finest article of clothing in your wardrobe, and had been delighted to discover you had finally grown up enough to match her womanly form and fill out the bodice properly. 

“If you refuse to believe in yourself, then believe in me,” your brother added firmly. 

Confusion knotted your brow, but before you could ask his meaning, someone cleared their throat behind you. 

“Forgive my interruption…”

You froze at the arrival of this voice, one you knew intimately despite having had barely any conversations with it. It was the light in the sweetest of your dreams, a sound you committed to memory, plucked from many years of brief and often stolen encounters. Public speeches, overheard conversations, and precious greetings from the incidental crossings of your paths. 

“My lord Boromir." You dipped into a curtsy, tightly clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress as you willed yourself to channel her reputed grace and poise. 

“My lady…” He bowed to you and spoke your name, ending all doubt of his familiarity. As it rolled off his tongue, the joy that thrilled inside you bolstered your meager courage.

Your mind had already sailed to the clouds and did not register whatever he else might have said or asked. But when he stretched out his hand for yours, instinct and years of pining took the place of thought and good sense, and you slipped your fingers over his, giving your consent. 

The crowd parted to give respectful berth to the Son of the Steward as he led his chosen partner to the dance floor. Boromir released your hand to take his place on the side of the men, leaving you to stand with the rest of the women. Open stares of scorn and envy fell upon you, beating at you with silent hostility as you waited for the music to begin. 

You wrenched your tearing eyes off the ground, and in trying to force your chin up high, you caught sight of Anarlas standing down the line of men. The love and pride that shone on your brother’s face revitalized your shaky confidence. Believe in yourself, you could imagine him saying. He tilted his head in a pointed signal.

Your gaze shifted to the right and fell straight upon Boromir, and found him staring right back at you, lips slightly parted. The second your eyes locked, he startled, caught off guard. His stare collapsed to his feet in discomfort and, to your amazement, he appeared to blush.  

Your breath hitched and you pursed your lips to stifle a giggle that escaped your throat.

The music started. A slower tune, one familiar enough for you to coax the steps from your body’s memory. You loved to dance and did so as often as you could, but your shy nature limited your audience and partners to only Anarlas and yourself. 

As the two lines stepped forward to begin the dance, Boromir raised his eyes to you again, defiant of his own embarrassment. As you glided by him in the first pass, you offered him your soft smile. His features immediately relaxed, and his lips curled back upwards, making you shiver.

You twirled and turned back towards him, reaching out with both hands. As his thick, calloused fingers encased yours, you thought you heard him draw a tight breath. Your own heart thundered madly in your chest as his light grasp slipped away once more.

As the spinning and swaying carried on, every reunion of your hands dizzied you with tingling, while each departure from his touch struck in pangs of yearning. The bittersweet longing you had borne for him from afar and for so long now surged sinfully into profound craving. For his touch, for his gaze, for the very warmth of his body next to yours.

His eyes never strayed from you, even as the routine separated you over and over. They were storm-grey, you realized, confirming what you had always fantasized but never truly saw. After every turn they quickly sought out your face again, as though ravenous for the sight.  

When your hands joined for several prolonged beats of the song, you heard him murmur your name. In mindless insolence, you returned the favor and addressed him in kind. 

“Boromir…”

His fingers suddenly closed around your hand, trapping and enveloping it and preventing you from slipping away again. With a soft tug, he urged you close and cupped his other palm on your hip, stalling you both in the middle of the floor. 

“I…” You braced your hands against his chest, summoning the last dregs of strength in your legs to support yourself, when everything else within you begged to melt in his arms. 

His hold around you tightened in painstaking slowness, as he ascertained your approval, watching for signs of objection that you never showed. The only distance that now separated you was his towering height, which he breached by leaning down, closer, closer, until you were drowning in his nearness, and felt the sweep of his sigh on your brow, the graze of his nose on your temple. Long dark lashes fluttered over those keen grey eyes that now seemed dazed with the wonder of you, of this moment.

Valar, he was more beautiful than anything your imagination ever conjured over the years.

“I cannot breathe,” you finally whispered. 

A chuckle rumbled from his chest and his hands rose to cradle your face. "I know exactly how you feel.”  

His thumbs savored the soft skin of your cheekbones, his fingertips explored the delicate shells of your ear. His ministrations were almost enough to eliminate all awareness of your surroundings. While the music carried on, several other couples had finally stopped to gawp at the Captain of Gondor's scandalous display. But for once in your life, the unspeakable, glorious joy that overflowed in your heart simply left no room for concern of anything or anyone else in the world.

“Perhaps we should continue this outside," Boromir suggested, his voice heavy with a promise that ran goosebumps through you. "Where we can have all the air we shall need.”

Tags: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard (Sorry if I missed anyone; I have no formal tag list but will likely put up a tag request form soon!)

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Thanks for reading!

[caffeine-clouds]

What Your Favourite Sonic Ship Says About You! (Part 1)

(Sonamy, Sonadow, Sonally) FULL DISCLAIMER: Shipping is a hot topic of debate, but this post is lighthearted fun! I'm a multi-shipper, I love most of these ships - and I can see why some people like the dynamics that I might not. This is not a bashing post, this is fun time. So, without further ado- Sonamy

You appreciate the simpler things in life. You decided to ship the protagonist with the main girl character just like 90% of all media writers, it's just what you're comfortable with. In terms of fanfiction tropes, do you happen to enjoy childhood sweethearts, meet-cutes, soulmates - that type of thing? I just had a feeling... Either way, you're just here for the cute vibes and the pining - and who can blame you? You probably really liked the fact that when you first came across the ship that it was the girl of the pair being the one so forward with her romantic feelings. But as time has gone on - you're either one of those people that really miss that side of Amy, or you're one of those that are so dang grateful they've toned her down. Either way, it's safe to say that this is one of the most vanilla of Sonic ships - and that's not an insult, vanilla is a good ice cream flavour. But no one is really going to fight you on your opinion other than the 5% of remaining toxic Sonally shippers, and those people that are somehow still living in the Sonic Heroes era. Sonadow

You saw that Sonic and Shadow's rivalry has been going on for far longer than 7 years, so it must be gay - and honestly, I can't fault your logic. You're a sucker for two disasters who can't express their feelings, and you have just determined that fighting is simply their love language. Even with Shadow's limited screen time in Prime, you suck every single dang crumb you're given like a vacuum. And by the way, you definitely have an Ao3 account - don't try and hide it. We already know you're a sucker for enemies/rivals to lovers... and I'd also wager you enjoy just-one-bed. Also you like that thing where characters constantly call each other by a nickname, and only end up calling them by their actual name during a confession scene or when one of the characters is seriously injured. I dunno, just had a hunch you'd like that sort of thing. You are debating between two sides of yourself - part of you wants Shadow's old characterization back where he was a more in-depth character and showed Sonic more respect, but part of you also loves how so damn obsessive Shadow is in modern games over Sonic and how much he wants to fight him - because that at least implies that Sonic is on Shadow's mind literally most of the time. But when all is said and done, this is vanilla when it comes to gay ships in the Sonic community. It's too damn easy, it's why it's the most popular Sonic ship on Tumblr. This ship was made for the LGBTQ+ community. Sonally

Opposites attract is your go-to, and it's been tried and tested - the formula works, I see it. You strike me as the person who really cares about canon material, and you tend to steer away from a lot of fanon. I also have a strong feeling you're a Sonic fan that's on the older side, back when SatAM and Archie were at their peak and considerably more popular. It's a ship with all the things you need to be happy - the characters have a deep, long-lasting bond, it's a sweet ship, and the two have constrasting personalities - so it doesn't get stale for you. You're probably into similar tropes as the Sonamy shippers - but you enjoy more drama and spice to your fanfics, and you won't shy away from angst - Archie loved its angst, I know you enjoyed that shit. You're either content with all the Sonally content you've gotten over the years, and will occassionally look at fanarts. Or you're one of those people who will not let the Archie comics go, you are still in denial - you are begging for Sally's return into the series and you're hoping now that Ian Flynn is writing for the games, that your dreams might just become a reality.

[just-antithings]

I miss RP (especially multi/panfandom) spaces being a free-for-all in terms of content. This is maybe tangential to the whole pro-anti thing, but it’s beyond grating that people will do things like put canonical minors through literal torture, traumatize them in wars or kill them off for pointless “angst”, but god forbid someone might imply a 16 and 18 year old might be interested in dating. Handholding with a (checks notes) two-year age gap? Well, that’s just a bridge too far.

Characters who were last seen as a minor in canon, even if they were like 17 and 11 months, must always be pure and chaste forever—even if you play an older version of them—but if a character’s slapped with a label saying “18” anywhere in canon people also feel at liberty to post the most unholy levels of horny shit about them even if they’re less mature than their younger counterparts. (No hate to those people either, but as someone whose hands are tied by an arbitrary number affixed to a fictional piece of data it’s really grating.)

I’m not even interested in writing smut for Christ’s sake… I just want the freedom to acknowledge that my young adult muses are growing up. I want them to be respected as full characters, and not just dolls or curiosities for older characters to “adopt” or play parent to. Young people thinking about romance, or even—gasp—sex!!—is just a normal part of that, you know? In what universe is that “weird” or “perverted”?! It’s fucking normal!!

It’s just so stifling. Everyone is constantly walking on eggshells, like it’s this giant fucked up game of prisoner’s dilemma where I can TELL that many of my peers also want to talk about these subjects casually and openly, but nobody actually can because everyone is so afraid of getting snitched out and ganged up on by others they otherwise want to consider friends. You never know who you can trust versus who’s going to go all holy crusader on your ass for some made-up shit. (and some RP partners in the past have even privately confessed the same thing to me!! God knows they’re lucky the person they trusted to tell wasn’t some morally-grandstanding bully who would flay them alive for the mere suggestion!!)

Purity rhetoric is a fucking cancer on roleplay communities, and I wish I knew where I could go to just be rid of it.

[slarpg]

SUPER LESBIAN ANIMAL RPG v1.1 IS HERE! This is the most substantial patch since launch. On top of the usual bug fixes, we have new area maps, the new Additional Guidance mode, and most importantly... Melody now has a pet cat!! Look at him

As always, Steam users should get the patch automatically, while itch users can redownload the game from the store page. Common technical questions are also addressed in our FAQ page.

To try and manage expectations here, while this update contains more than the usual bug fixes, I don't currently have any plans to add a huge amount of content to the game. Right now I think it's already long enough, and the game's structure (with a definitive ending and no postgame) isn't conducive to adding DLC. And also, you know, what's there already took almost eight years of my life to make, and that kinda takes a lot out of you. But these additions felt like they would meaningfully improve the experience of what's already there.

Full changelog below!

v1.1 Changelog

"New content":

Additional Guidance mode can now be toggled on or off from the start of the game or via the in-game Options menu! When enabled, this will occasionally offer more direct hints on what to do next in a few specific parts of the game for more story-focused players - particularly a few puzzle segments, as well as helping you find the side content late in the game.

Ultimately, the total number of hints added across the game is low. Exploration, dungeon puzzles, and returning to previously-visited areas with new tools are core pillars of SLARPG's design, and I don't want to hold the player's hand every step of the way. But these specific bits have been parts where some players just gave up and messaged me (usually at like 3am), or posted a cry for help in the #SLARPG tag on Twitter. Which isn't optimal! So now an extra nudge in the right direction exists in-game, should you ever need it.

New area maps have been added for the Amber Woods, Sapphire Coast, and Uncanny Valley! They can be acquired from Park Ranger Taylor, the beach souvenir shop (first accessible in Act III), and Rafael, respectively.

And finally, as was originally intended, Melody now has... a pet cat in her house!! He is truly the most important part of this patch, and the most important thing that will ever be patched into the game.

Other tweaks:

Unrevealed enemies should no longer have their health bars displayed when using multi-target attacks.

The menu (and, by extension, the options menu) can now be accessed during the Prologue.

Fixed the Bestiary entries for the Loot Scooter and Helper Jelly not properly unlocking in the Sapphire Coast.

The animation for Megalith from the Geomancer Spellbook now plays for each individual enemy that's caught in its area of effect. (A compatibility issue was found with the script that made AoE attacks only play one animation, and this was the only skill in the game that needed said script.)

Originally the columns in the last "puzzle" room of the Flurry Mountains had no collision because that room is just a joke and I didn't want people to get stuck in a maze that exists purely for a gag but they now have collision so that I stop receiving bug reports about it

Added new line when entering the Fortune Teller's shop late in Act IV (or Act V) saying that he can help locate uncompleted major side quests at that point in the story. (He will now also point you in the direction of Fawna's side quest if you haven't completed it.)

A backup method of acquiring the missable Spellbook in Act III has been added late in Act IV. (You can still only get it once.)

The Crypt boss can no longer be defeated in a way that makes a certain unique status ailment remain after the battle.

There's now an additional warning at save points past the point of no return.

Other minor fixes.

Enjoy the update, everyone!

[garbinge]

The Long Game

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Day 29 these April Prompts: “Deep Breaths”

Summary: You contemplated (overthink) the news you have to tell Din as he walks you home. 

A/N: This is the start of a larger multi-chap (a theme I have LOL) not sure when I’ll get to posting more parts. I also haven’t watched s3 yet (I know I know, I’m waiting for my partner to catch up on Boba Fett so we can watch together!!!) but this is a little AU from the canon plot anyways. Also in this fic, the Mandalorian code has some stuff about marriage and love in it. Just to add some dramatic effect. First time writing for Din, I hope to get more comfortable as I write more!

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of pregnancy, anxiety/panic attack, overthinking, stress. 

Mando Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

Your nerves were starting to manifest into bile in your throat. You stared at the back of the helmet of the man you had been sleeping with for, well, years at this point, and yet you were nervous. 

“Din.” You said at a mumble, part of you hoping maybe he didn’t hear you and you could call this an attempt and try again tomorrow. 

“Yea?” He turned to look at you. Now his visor was staring directly at you, and even though his eyes weren’t visible you felt them burning into your own. 

It was a scene that was familiar to you, you'd pretty much seen it everyday, and when he was away on a bounty hunt, it was something you truthfully missed. The dark sky with bright stars, the low lighting of the town since everything had closed and the cantina was usually one of the last things to shut down every night here in Nevarro. But the vision of him standing there to walk you home was comforting, or at least, it had been before you had news to share with him. 

“Walkin’ me home?” You took a deep breath, the first of many, and stepped towards him, not letting your eyes move from where you assumed his were. 

“Of course.” His helmet rasped. You weren’t sure if the helmet altered his voice to sound like that or if that was just how he spoke since he’d never taken it off in front of you. Honoring his code despite the situation you two had. That’s when you started to spiral in your head. You never even saw this man’s face. You were lucky to have his bare hands touch you, in intimate situations as well as not. You knew his full name, but that was after months of him visiting you on Tatooine. Suddenly, the bile that had settled for a moment was rising, the thought that you might not really have known this man was eating at you and you were getting overwhelmed. Breathing was becoming hard, your chest felt like there was a bantha sitting on you. But something cut through the noise. 

“Take a deep breath, what’s going on?” 

Din was now standing in front of you, and his gloved hands were lightly touching your shoulders, in an attempt to ground you without being too forceful. It was something you never told him calmed you but just something he picked up on from knowing you. Right, knowing you. Din knew you. You knew Din. You might not have known his face but you knew him. His intentions. His life. His personality. 

You inhaled and let your shoulders rise, his hands not removing themselves as you did. 

“I’m good.” You kept your reply simple as you nodded your head forward to show you wanted to start walking.

He didn’t question any more, his hands dropped and he walked alongside of you on the path that began your journey home. Another amazing thing about Din, he didn’t push.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You looked up at the sky almost like you could envision that moment entirely right there. 

A chuckle left Din’s helmet. “Do I?” His boots crunched on the pavement as he walked. “I have a permanent scar to remember it forever.” 

“Sorry.” You smiled and looked over at him. “You're my best friend, you know?” You said after a long pause. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” Din agreed in his own way. 

It was funny, because he was right. You did know each other for a really long time. But yet, you never established any definition of the relationship you had. He visited you frequently on Tatooine when he was there for work. He brought you with him to Nevarro when your house burned down on Tatooine, he walked you home every night, you two started fooling around somewhere in the midst of all that and you never established any ground rules or titles, except you hid the intimacy from everyone. You understood the Mandalorian code, and you knew how much Din honored that. You didn’t argue it because well, it's part of what made him, him. 

In the years you’ve known Din and been sleeping with him, he’d gone away on hunts and he never questioned what you did when he was gone or vice versa. You picked up business as usual when he came back. You never did anything, although you did flirt with people at the bar, even when he was back, it was how you made a decent living and you thought he knew that but as the news you had to share with him right now mulled in your head you started to wonder if he truly did. 

Maybe he did keep warm bodies around when he was away. Maybe even more than that, and this was just what it was, friends with benefits. But could you even call it that? Friends? Benefits? Especially now? Then you remembered you just called him your best friend. Probably for the first time, or was it? Why was it such a big deal you hide whatever this was from everyone? They knew you two hung out? Oh, right, Mandalorian code, that calmed you down for a minute, but then the next thought funneled in. Well, there had to be a work around with that? He couldn’t have been the first Mandalorian to fall in love? Fall in love? Who were you kidding, you didn’t even know if calling him your best friend was appropriate and now you’re assuming he’s in love? Maybe you thought that because YOU felt that. Holy shit, were you in love with a Mandalorian? Your next thought shook you to your core. Not just a Mandalorian but YOUR Mando. Your Mando? Again the man who you couldn’t even call your best friend without going into an overthinking spiral? Your stomach turned. There it was that bile again. Making its way up your throat.

“I have to tell you something.” You blurted out, getting overwhelmed by your own thoughts. 

Din said nothing and stared at you waiting for you to say something. 

You stared at him, and for some reason, pushed all your thoughts aside. It was what you did every time you spent time with him, it was what you did to put you in this situation so it would have to work to let it out. You took one last deep breath before speaking. 

“I’m pregnant.”

[hareofhrair]

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For reference, a good fic chapter would be about 1500 to 2000 words, so about $45 to $60. A character profile or backstory might be around 300 to 500 words, or $9 to $15. For long works, such as multi chapter fics, I'll write an outline first which is paid for separately.

Work under 1000 words can generally be delivered same-day, or within the week if I'm busy, with allowance for needing to go back and forth with you discussing details. Full chapters may take a week to two weeks depending on my work schedule.

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basically anything! Ask if you're not sure!

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For examples of my work, check out my AO3! I have original works posted there as well as canon fanfic and an ongoing fanventure. Warning for nsfw content.

[identitty-dickruption]

here for questions as it was invited by your post, and thank you because this topic is important to me i want to focus this on addiction but i want to admit that as a full grown adult who went to collage for psychology, worked in special needs and nursing homes so has seen a wide array of neurodivergencies in very intimate and real ways, AND as someone who has adhd and is partners with someone who was a higher needs autistic in their school days- i feel like i dont fully understand the strict differences between terms like i want to and the grey area really dose make my head spin often but in regards to addiction and how i experience it differently because in a way i feel an almost "immunity" with how my executive dysfunction can translate to "not able to maintain a pattern regardless if it is a constructive habit or addiction" watching my father struggle with alcoholism and it really takeing its always sunny to wake up to the fact that he even was one, i really want to understand what it means to be addicted better is it defined by its sunk cost? emotional emptiness? the damage done outward to others? or is it just the pattern. the way that i experience a hyper fixation with my adhd feels distinctive enough to prove that i can differentiate the two concepts per the entire point of your post, and then there are just paradigm shifts like how the only thing ive been accused of being addicted to has been "the computer" 20 years ago when we still had dial up. but ive been a strong advocate to how web designs especially for cell phones play into addictive tendencies with the biggest being short form content with the slot machine endless scroll feature. so the dangers TRUE addiction poses a unique threat in the attention economy functions today with tec and also how easy it is to get trapped in a social bubble making traditionally understood as addictive substances form even more tight knit communities to enable people and never realize they could be helped. its a problem i want to be vigilant of in myself and always help those i love through where it comes so i hope this message wasnt too long or overbearing i just am glad to see someone who knows firsthand about it who might be willing to talk more about it for education.

okay I finished answering this only for tumblr to reload and lose my progress so sorry if this comes across as overly abrupt. I’m not upset at you but I sure am upset at tumblr!

addiction is a complicated and multi-faceted issue. it’s not just the frequency of substance use and it’s not just the impact to life, it’s a lot of different things all at once. addiction tends to be broken into three parts: physical dependency, emotional dependency, and impact on life

physical dependency is your body becoming reliant on the substance. this looks like physical withdrawal symptoms (e.g. the shakes, dizziness, fatigue, nausea, etc)

emotional dependency is the result of extended use of a substance as a coping mechanism. this means that anything the substance was helping to cope with is going to come up in full force (along with added anxiety and anger from not having access to the substance)

impact to life really depends on the person, but this is all the external influences of addiction. struggling with employment, struggling with relationships, struggling to look after yourself and others, etc

all of these things will look different for different people and different substances. I am always wary of people trying to apply an addiction framework to non-substance use addictions. evidence around behavioural addictions is sketchy at best, and just do not have many of the features of addiction that I’ve struggled with the most

out of everything, the mechanisms of addiction are most similar to OCD, but with the additional challenges of physical dependency. for those who don’t know, the obsessive compulsive cycle is:

trigger

intrusive thought

obsessive thinking

compulsive behaviour

it’s a cycle because the more you do the compulsive behaviour, the harder it becomes to cope with that initial trigger in a healthy way. and that’s kinda how addiction functions, too. it just so happens that the compulsive behaviour is substance use. and that’s just not how other behavioural addictions tend to play out

beyond that, we have to consider the ways the word “addiction” is used politically. addiction is heavily stigmatised. addict is seen as a pejorative term, rather than a descriptive one. so even if you could say that phone use is similar in some way to substance abuse….. calling someone an addict for using their phone a lot comes with a lot of baggage and a lot of implications I am deeply uncomfortable with

the terms “phone addict” or “addictive technology” are not literal phrases, they’re metaphors. technology is being compared to substances, and use of that technology is being compared to addiction. and I think everyone needs to have a deep think about why it is that those comparisons are used. until addiction stops being demonised, it is not useful or helpful to be applying an addiction framework to situations where it doesn’t 100% make sense

I hope that helps and makes sense!

[ichigo-dream]

Sick at the Heart

Fic contains: Extremely Dubious consent, strange dynamics (he's your step-"brother" but not really - it'll make sense), and NSFW content.

Don't like, don't read!

This is my first ever multi-chap fic so let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy xoxo

-Ichigo

"You don’t even know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to go, all you can think is run, run, get away, get away-"

When your mum had remarried, you hadn't minded - God knows she deserves to be happy - and honestly it hadn't impacted your life at all.

You didn't even mind how brash and vicious your step-"brother" is - he could actually be quite funny.

But then, you decide to give your mum some space.

You decide a place of your own might be what you want. Somewhere you can enjoy some time alone and grow.

Shame that that's not what Levi wants.

Suddenly, your already fragile dynamic with him shifts and neither of you are likely to recover.

You hadn’t minded when your mum had remarried. You honestly hadn’t. She deserved happiness. And if the man made her happy then by god you would suffer whatever this scenario threw at you. It wasn’t like you were a little kid anymore. You’d had a full-time job for nearly three years now, you were coming into your own, and your mum had clearly felt like she could do something for herself without it disrupting your life.

The changes hadn’t been totally impossible to deal with. Suddenly having a man around the house was easier to adjust to than you had expected. Kenny had been shockingly easy to manoeuvre around when you weren’t in the mood to entertain anyone. 

His son on the other hand… Technically his nephew, but there wasn’t much point getting bogged down in semantics was there? His son, Levi, hadn’t been a huge part of the backdrop of your home due to the fact that he had his own house. His own job. His own life. His uncle getting married bore little consequence on his life in general, but he still made an effort to come over to visit on Saturdays if he could, and always, without fail, appeared for Sunday dinner. 

He was quiet but vulgar when he spoke, scathing in a way that reminded you of your aunt, with a biting tongue and wit that had you oscillating between smirking and holding back tears when you weren’t in the mood for his humour. 

Still, you didn’t hate him. He was actually good company at times. Quite funny once you got to know him. 

Yet, he could be a real cunt when he wanted to be.

Case in point, you had felt that with your mum now being a married woman once more that she would want some space of her own. You’d thought that the conversation with your mum about moving out would be difficult but efficient. And it had been. She had of course told you that you could stay forever if you wanted, she wasn’t looking rid of you, but had understood when you had said you wanted some space of your own. 

All had been going well. Hunky dory if you dared to be optimistic. Of course, at that moment Levi had to make his unwanted opinion known. 

“Are you really sure you want to move out?” He asks, taking a sip from the cup of tea that you’d placed in front of him before you had started this conversation in that odd way that you hadn’t had the nerve to comment on before. You’d hoped he would’ve gotten the message that this was a mother-daughter talk and to leave. But he had sat on. 

“Yeah, I’m just thinking a small flat, nothing too crazy, just a wee place of my own.” You say, happy to at least be able to describe what you were thinking without sounding like an idiot, like you hadn’t researched, like you didn’t know what you were talking about. 

Levi’s brows furrow minutely, and he hums non-committedly 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a risk? Young woman living on her own?” Anyone else in the family and you would’ve thought they were just being concerned and overprotective, but Levi always managed to make his concern into an inconvenience just for the fun of it all. 

“Not at all,” you say, smiling at him, ignoring the hard look in his steely eyes, “it’s in a safe enough area, not too far either. Besides, it’s not the 19th Century. A woman can live on her own if she wants to.” The last words hold a bite to them that shocks even you, that shocks even your mum, because she took a sip from her own cup of tea, watching quietly. 

Levi stares you out. You stare back. 

“It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of practicality. You’re a young woman with a predictable work schedule, living on your own isn’t the smartest idea in the world. It would be idiotic to put your safety at risk for the sake of your pride.”

“My pride?” You say incredulously. 

“Levi’s right pet, maybe you’d be best looking for flat mates. What about your wee mates from uni? Or ones from work that travel?” Your mum interjects, always placating and defusing like the goddess she is, “Or Levi, you’ve a spare room? You could live with Levi for a while if you wanted some time away.” Your mum looks at Levi expectantly and his face remains unchanged, but he does nod. 

“Of course.”

“Ha!” You laugh, and both of them turn to look at you, Levi boring holes through you, “You were so concerned about a young woman living alone and now look at you! What will the neighbours think when they see a young man and young woman living together when they aren’t married? Or maybe,” You stop, and smirk at him, “I should leave it at a young woman and some man. The young might be pushing it.” 

Your mum chokes on a laugh, and Levi at least smirks at her when she lays a hand on his arm and tells him you’re only joking. Only when she turns away, to speak to your stepfather when he walks in, do you see the look that has fallen over Levi’s face.

Something dark and sharp and you don’t want to look too long, for fear of what you might see. 

You rise from your seat, retreating to your room, but not before telling him, 

“It was nice of you to offer, Levi, but really, I’ll be grand, you worry too much!” 

You feel his eyes burn into your back the whole way up the stairs. 

~

After the ordeal as you’re now referring to it as, you hadn’t given any more thought to Levi at all. Even at dinner, you had ignored his barbs and stony face at every moment, keeping to yourself. 

That night, you slid into bed, comfortable and secure, surrounded by the watchful eyes of cuddly toys, and storybooks that have been well loved and thumbed through over the years, and you drift into sleep peacefully.

The sensation of warm flesh over your mouth has you surging out of sleep. Bucking wildly at the heavy weight on top of you, you scream helplessly into skin, tears springing to your eyes in fear. 

A cool edge at your throat had you stilling and your breath catching in your chest. 

The weight over you settles and you feel hot breath puff over your neck and ear. A whimper leaves your throat at the feeling.

Whoever was on top of you – a man, it is a man, smells like one, sounds like one, feels like one when he grazes against your stomach.  

Your breathing is rapid, sharp little inhales that leave your nerves alight and your body shaking, 

“Shh.” He breathes into your ear, warmth making your skin raise into goosebumps and the rest of you tremble. 

In the darkness, you can see his rough outline, but nothing beyond that. God, is he going to kill you? Or worse? How did he even get in? 

You hear him inhale to speak again and you couldn’t let him get any further. 

Tossing a hand out to your bedside table, your fingers met the chilled glass of water that you had brought to bed. 

With a muffled shout you grasp it and smash it into the side of his face, showering your own in water and glass. 

The man rears back and in the sudden absence you seize the opportunity, raising a knee and sinking it into what you hope are his balls. With the way he gasps and tumbles to the side onto the bed has you thinking you have succeeded. 

Tossing yourself from the bed, you pull your legs free where they’d caught in the duvet, listening to the man grunt and do the same. 

The door is too risky, he’d catch you, and with that singular thought you run to the window, flinging it open and falling out of it. 

The fall isn’t that far. You’d done this before out of curiosity one summer years ago. But on landing, the grass beneath you is soft and slick, wet with dew and the lingering rain from earlier, and you slide forward, chest taking the brunt of your landing. 

Air forced out of you, you lie there gasping desperately, wheezing at being winded, and the chill seeping into you along with the wetness of the grass below. 

Raising yourself onto your side, you try to force yourself up, wheezing still as you turn and look back at the open window. 

Suddenly, the chill beneath you, which had leached through your thin pyjamas, wasn’t even registering against the coldness that fills you, freezing you in your place and catching your breath in your throat. 

In the open window, illuminated by the moonlight, Levi stands watching you. 

You could have believed that he had heard the commotion and come to rescue you, were it not for the blood. It drips from his nose and the side of his mouth, the streaks noticeable even in the night as he stands with his arms planted to the windowsill.

Neither of you move. 

Levi does nothing. Says nothing. He simply watches, looking down at you with those eyes of his again. 

Those tormenting eyes. 

You feel turmoil bubbling inside you. What is he playing at? Why did he do that? Why was he looking at you like that ? 

Levi feints, jerking suddenly, eyes glinting wildly in the moonlight, and the movement has you flinching back, whimpering just once. 

Once was enough, it seems, because Levi is gone. 

Shaking, you feel adrenaline course through you and you twist to haul yourself up to run, panicking when you hear the door opening behind you. 

You don’t even know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to go, all you can think is run, run, get away, get away-

Arms wrap around you and pull you back, holding you like iron as you kick and flail. 

“Get of-“ You start to shout, only for Levi’s hand to once more cover it. He hushes you again, holding fast. No matter how you fought he would not be moved. 

As you feel yourself tiring, Levi begins rocking you, hushing you as you shiver in his arms. 

“You’re freezing.” 

And whose fault is that? You want to snap at him, but you hold your tongue. This is completely unknown territory. This Levi is completely unknown to you, his attitude - or perhaps, his nonchalance - sets your nerves on edge and keeps you quiet. 

Levi sweeps you into his arms, arms securely around you and under your knees. 

You squawk in surprise, looping your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling. You want to shout at him, swear and curse till you turn blue, but again you keep quiet. You were cold, and running on adrenaline, and Levi was being weird - better to err on the side of caution. 

He carries you back into the house, somehow managing to close the door without it slamming and taking you up the stairs to your room. As he pushes open the door, you survey the damage, the pool of water and shattered glass and the drops of blood doting the pillows. 

At the sight, you cast your gaze up to his face, and this close you can see the rivulets dripping from his nose and his lip, sliding down his neck. Part of you wants to apologise. The other part wants to laugh in his face and tell him he deserves it. Again, you say nothing. 

Levi sits down onto the edge of your bed, still cradling you close to him, and he sweeps an arm across it. A moment after he reaches up and tugs the corner of the bed sheet, pulling it free and tossing it over onto the other side of the bed. 

In the bare space he places you down gently, whilst he takes the moment to lift the pillow and duvet, removing the sheet entirely. Task completed, his hands rest around your hips as he lifts you into the middle of the bed. 

You tremble in his hold, especially when he runs his thumbs up and down, making contact with an exposed slip of skin over your hipbone. 

“Your clothes are wet.” He says softly, ringing in the quiet and you exhale shakily as you nod. The moonlight provides low light so you hope that he can see it. “You need to change. You’ll catch a cold.” His words are straight to the point, clinical, the way he always is when he speaks to you but something about them makes you shake with more than the cold. It had to be the cold, just the chill, and the dew that had soaked your clothes that was making you hyper-focus on how hot his hands were.

Those hands that had been rubbing soothingly and now were wandering to grip delicate fabric. 

“Hol-hold on! Levi!” You chastise him harshly, hissing whispers, as he grips and lifts, pulling your pyjama top up. 

“Lift your arms.” It’s an order if ever you’ve heard one, and it’s only the lingering fear and adrenaline that has you doing so, slapping your hands across your bare chest as he pulls it off of your head. 

“Okay,” you say, shifting when his hands came back down to rest on your hips once more, “you’ve changed me, thanks, now can you get out? I’m too- I can’t process this shit right now.” 

In response, Levi says nothing, steely eyes staring in the moonlight. That same tormenting, wild look that you had seen in the window all more noticeable this close. 

Those hands manoeuvre you once more, and you make a noise of surprise as he pulls you down and when he presses you backwards your head sinks into your pillow. This position has you shifting and once again you say, 

“Levi, please, get ou-“ Levi reaches back and lifts the duvet, pulling it up and over him as he sinks down to his forearms over you, caging you in, claustrophobic in a way. 

When he shifts to fix it around himself, you can’t help but linger on the way his t-shirt brushes against your bare stomach. Your stomach flips when you feel a hot, hard wetness near your inner thighs, and suddenly you were uncertain of what protection your pyjama shorts and his boxers would provide you with. 

You’re tense and flighty under him, all too aware of how much he’s filling the space with his presence, face inches from yours and his body an immovable wall of heat. 

Levi hovers over you in the dark, and against your lips you can feel the hot puffs of his breath. Something hot drips from his face and lands against your cheek, chilling quickly on your skin, and for a second you wonder if he’s drooling before the image of him - feinting, bloody, and feral in your window - fills your head. That fact fills you with realisation and you open your mouth - to swear at him, to chastise him, to beg him to leave - but the second you do he descends on you. 

You should be grateful in a way, when his mouth meets yours, as it stifles the squeal that you let out. 

Levi’s mouth is scalding against you, chilled as you still are, and his tongue presses into you - possessive and devouring, and the sounds of his lips on yours fill the room. 

In your shock, you raise your arms to rest on his shoulders, pushing at his clad skin. The act does nothing to deter him, in fact, as you regrettably realise seconds after, it exposes your bare chest to him, once your arms leave their protective covering. 

It’s a fact that he realises quickly, as he presses down, his chest resting against yours and the sensation of the material against your bare skin has you squirming and thrashing. 

His hand leaves its place by your head and slides between the both of you, cupping your breast and squeezing gently. 

You squeak in surprise and indignation, turning your head away and finally separating yourself from him. You breathe heavily, shuddering and trying to catch your breath. But Levi doesn’t stop; he turns his attention to your neck, laving his tongue across your skin and kissing at your skin. 

“Levi!” You gasp as his teeth dig into the skin between your collarbone and your neck. 

“Don’t be so loud.” He rumbles into your ear, licking at the shell and shaking with laughter when you tremble, “Do you want your mum to hear you? Want her to come in and catch you like this?”

“Fuck you!” You say, gritting your teeth. “You’re the one who should be worried. If she catches you-” 

“Maybe then she’ll realise that you shouldn’t be on your own.” He says, and his words have you putting your panic on pause. 

“What?” He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling deeply before replying.

“I was able to just walk in. You didn’t lock your door, you had no escape plan, hell you didn’t even think to scream for help.”

“I di-” His fingers twist and pinch at your nipple and it makes you choke on your words.

“But that’s okay,” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek just under your eye, “because it’s just me. Not some creep. Just me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He moves away from your neck, sliding down and you feel his mouth leaving hot open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

It's so much. To feel him everywhere. It makes your breaths come short and tears spring to your eyes. 

You choke on a scream, fingers digging into his shoulders and body, when you feel his fingers slip beneath your pyjamas and press between your legs.  

The noise has him raising his head from your chest, pressing a kiss to your lips once more. 

“Easy.” he whispers into your mouth, but it only makes you whimper. His words are empty to you, especially when he continues to pet and slide his fingers along your pussy, pressing into you gently only slightly before he pulls them back again. 

Your breath hitches and you become rigid when he presses one of his fingers into you fully, sliding it in and pressing into you deeply. The sound as he pulls back, the wet, slick sound of betrayal makes you sob. 

Levi lets out a shaky breath as he continues to move his finger inside you, pressing and curling until he pushes in a second one. The stretch makes you hiss and clench your fingers into the fabric over his shoulders. 

You wish he wasn’t positioned the way he was; he had pressed his leg between your thighs whilst you’d been distracted by his fingers, and now it was preventing you from clamping your thighs shut. Preventing you from stemming the sensation, preventing you from stopping him, preventing you from silencing the sounds he was drawing from you. The wet sound of his fingers pumping into you makes your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the whines that it pulls from your throat. 

It’s obscene, and Levi knows it. He’s mouthing at your skin and inhaling your scent like he needs it to breathe, and when his thumb runs over your clit and you let out a high keen, legs clamping around his thigh, you can feel him trembling as he moans lightly into your flesh. 

“Ah-ow-Levi!” You whine when a third finger tries to press in, the burn a lot more noticeable this time. In response, he circles your clit, flicking over it and making you clench around him. You feel like you’re burning, body hot as he pumps his fingers faster, the slick sounds making you moan, and embarrassingly they make you wetter. 

Gasping, you feel the tightness building and you claw at his shoulders and one hand grips his hair as you jerk in his hold. 

“Levi, Levi, Levi-”

“I’ve got you.” He whispers shakily, his pace increasing, and you can’t help but sob and bury your face into his neck as you feel the tightness snap, arching into him as you gush around his fingers. 

Your body goes boneless and you bask in the afterglow as it washes over you. You whimper lightly as Levi pulls his fingers free, sensitive and trembling with the aftershocks. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving you barely awake and tired. Although your eyes have closed, you can still hear Levi as he pants into your ear, swearing quietly, and the slick sound of his hand on his cock. 

Levi lets out a choked whimper and you feel a wetness splatter onto your stomach. If you weren’t so tired, you would have demanded that he clean it up and get out. But in this moment, all you want to do is sleep. 

Levi must feel the same, as he swallows audibly before he lies by your side, turning you and pulling you back into his chest. He fixes the duvet around you both before he wraps his arms around you, kissing your temple before burying his face into your hair. 

And you let him. You let him breathe you in, and tangle his legs with yours. You’ll address his bullshit in the morning, but for now, you let yourself fall asleep surrounded by his scent, by his warmth, lulled over by the sound of his breaths.