#they are just a lil kid still wanting to be soothed to sleep
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pixie-felix · 22 hours ago
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DLMLU
This relationship is poisonous, but the feelings are still here~ Don’t let me love you, don’t let me love you. (DLMLU, Stray Kids)
Hey there jellybean <3 I was hoping my brain would cooperate and let me write part two of this, or possibly this. Alas, it was not to be. Instead we now have an angsty, hurt-no-comfort mini series.
Fuck The Feelings Out Of Me: Don't Let Me Love You I wasn’t sure who I was writing about at first, but then… yeah. It’s gotta be Han. His vocals in DLMLU break my heart clean in two. it’s not Han’s fault. This is toxic as shit and I just felt like hurting today.
500+ words, toxic angst smut, Han x fem!reader, mdni non idol college AU, hurt no comfort, accidentally toxic fwb, mentions of cheating, yearning and self loathing, break up sex but it’s not with him, name drop at the end
New series. Details at the end.
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Han needs to stop doing this to himself. 
Or rather, he needs to stop letting you do this to him.
You don’t do it to be cruel. He’s pretty sure you don’t even realise what it is that you’re doing.
But if he has to spend another night with you crying on his shoulder after another break up with your on again/off again cheating piece-of-shit sometimes-ex boyfriend, he just might break.
It’s his fault really. Han’s, not your boyfriend’s. Though god, the way he wants to smack the smug grin off that dickhead’s face every time he sees you on campus… 
He doesn’t even get the satisfaction of knowing your boyfriend doesn’t know Han was inside you just last night. 
Because it doesn’t matter now, not now that that prick has his arm around your shoulders again and you’re staring up at him like he’s your whole world. 
Like you weren’t in Han’s bed less than twelve hours ago, begging him to pound you harder. 
Fuck the feelings out of me Han. Please.
He’s got to stop falling for that line. They say falling in love is hard on the knees, well falling for this hurts worse. Han’s not sure what’s more bruised–his knees or his heart. All he knows is that both hurt like hell.
It is his fault though. For not being brave enough to tell you his feelings when he had the chance. For not kissing you at that party, the one where you ended up hooking up with him for the first time. For letting you use him as your emotional doormat. Or rather, your emotional mattress.
Because that’s where you always end up.
The first time it happened he thought his heart might burst. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of you like this, but he’d loved you for so long… And when you looked at him like that–tears sparkling in your lashes, lips bitten red to keep from sobbing–well.
How was he to know that when you kissed him, he wasn’t the one taking advantage.
It always ends the same way. Him waking up to an empty bed the next morning, a smiley face drawn on a post-it note on the bedside table and a fresh smoothie waiting for him in the fridge. As if a healthy breakfast is going to do anything to soothe the gaping chest wound where his heart used to be.
But that’s not even the worst part. Nor is it the way you smile at him brightly when you next see him in class, bouncing up to him and chattering away, acting like you didn’t just spit on his feelings and stomp on his heart when you left him to wake up alone this morning.
No. 
The part that hurts the most is when you’re falling asleep, curled up in Han’s bed with your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. 
For those few perfect moments, when Han can pretend everything is how it should be. You, here with him, letting him love you.
And then, every time, the illusion shatters. Every time, just as you start to slip into sleep, you mumble his name.
If he ignores that first letter, he can pretend you’re saying Han instead.
fin.
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Taglist: @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @n-kiie @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite @a-jazzy-bitch @incognitoinstigator @minhooofr @auroramirage @breakmeoff @beppybeesnuggets @skzlover24 @hansxcheesecake @velvetmoonlght Taglist is open.
m.list
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Welcome to Fuck The Feelings Out Of Me.
We have lives going in different directions, and lovers trying to fix the unfixable. We have deleted numbers and blocked instagrams, and people checking their phones while driving. We have cheaters and cowards who hurt themselves before others can. We have babying-the-maknae culture leading to bad decisions and worse consequences. We have toxic artist fuckboy montages, and breakup sex with the wrong person. We have sweet break up sex. We have sad break up sex. We have “we’ve broken up and I’m seeing someone else but I still miss you” sex.
Some are longer than others. Some are a little toxic. All contain heartbreak, most of them contain sex, and all are inspired by songs. They're not being posted in any particular order. If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know if you want to be in my main taglist or just series only.
Fuck the Feelings Out of Me: The Playlist Chan - Number One Girl - Rosé  Minho - Tell Me What To Do - SHINee  Changbin - Growing Pains - Super Junior D&E  Hyunjin - Toxic In You - Palaye Royale  Han - DLMLU - Stray Kids  Felix - Lips Of An Angel - Hinder  Seungmin - La Bachata - Manuel Turizo  Jeongin - CROOKED - G-DRAGON
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banners by @saradika-graphics
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chloesimaginationthings · 9 months ago
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Why the FNAF puppet loves the music box,,
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ervotica · 2 years ago
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fix your head
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pairing; perv!stepbro!rafe cameron x fem!stepsister!reader
warnings; stepcest, smut 18+ only, fingering, p in v sex, somnophilia, free use kink
a/n; just been having brainrot abt stepbro!rafe so here’s a lil drabble/thot abt him! (yes i am insane)
A rough palm presses to the small of your back as the covers lift, a chill twining around your suddenly exposed skin that has goosebumps raising even in slumber. You whine, brows scrunching as lax fingers loop around his wrist and you twist further into the sheets. Your eyes open and desperately try to acclimatise to the darkness of your bedroom, but all you can decipher is a looming silhouette that begins to crawl on top of your slack body.
"Shh, shh," Rafe soothes. His breath is hot against your prickling face. "'S just me. Go back to sleep. Just g'na fix your head a little."
"Mm, okay." You settle once you realise it's only your stepbrother, eyes fluttering closed once more. His touch immediately has your pert nipples hardening, the soft sheets beneath you enough stimulation to make you squirm even in your half-asleep state.
Bruising fingers curl around your hips, lifting them until your back arches and your face smushes into the pillows beneath you; he makes light work of your panties, pushing them to the side as his big palms knead the fatty flesh of your bum.
A finger sinks into your weeping hole and you gasp, pushing back into the touch as he curls it just right to rub over your g-spot. Your gummy walls contract at the newfound pleasure and an arm flies back in seek of purchase against Rafe's wrist.
"I know, I know," he coos, slipping in another digit and picking up the pace until the delicious friction has you stifling moans into the sheets. "Keep quiet for me, kid. Wouldn't want your mom finding us, would we?"
The feeling of fullness is gone as quickly as it appeared and you're still for a few moments, features crumpling in vexation.
"Don't get bratty on me now, you little shit," he chuckles, watching as your face falls once more when he lines his mushroom head up with your drooling entrance. You garble and gasp as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging him and moulding to the shape of his curved cock.
Fingers splay against the base of your neck, effectively silencing you as he starts to rock his hips; fingernails dig into the delicate flesh there and you whimper, tears tickling at your waterline as he presses you further into the pillow to keep you quiet.
"Got this pussy trained f'me, haven't I, kid? Attagirl, nice and quiet for me."
He twines an open palm into the length of your hair and tugs to reveal your blissed visage, watching with rapture as your expression changes the more he toys with you.
You squeak as he reaches down to pinch and roll your swollen clit between two fingertips, teeth baring into a growl when he clasps a merciless hand over your whining mouth.
"I told you to be fuckin' quiet, slut. Too much of a whore to take it nicely, hm? Too ungrateful?"
You shake your head vehemently, tears pooling at the base of his fingers as his thrusts pick up speed, head of his cock kissing every spot inside of you until you can't think of anything but how good he's making you feel.
He wrenches his hand free and you sag like dead weight, a punched breath of air expelling from your lungs with every cruel rut of his hips.
"There's my girl," he croons with a wicked smile, satisfied now you're fucked too dumb to do anything but drool onto the pillows beneath you. "You just, relax, kid. I'll be finished with you soon.”
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mirx-xko-offical · 8 months ago
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Here is the waited part two including LILIA! No one else as planned because this one is a little longer! Also per usual, not proofread <3
part one here!
prompt: ‘Your eyes are beautiful…’ ‘Well, your kids could always have them.
(quick info, Reader can be either a Fae or an adult that was forced to attend since I feel a lil weird with shipping Lilia with my usual reader, but again it is up to you!)
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You yawn as you walk lazily through the halls, dragging your feet around as you lazily head to your next class. You ignore the presence you feel behind you until it’s arms wrapped around you. You finally turn yourself around, finding LILIA. You simply ask him if he needed something but you never got an answer except for a cheeky smile. You simply look at him with a rather unamused expression, honesty too tired to deal with him. ‘You seem tired.’ He noticed, his head tilting to the side. ‘Why don’t I help take notes for you while you rest?’ You shake the idea off, not wanting to bother him but he continued to insist so you decided to give up and allow him. It surely wouldn’t be to bad, right?
You groaned as you walk back out of class, your posture evident that you did not have a comfortable rest at all. ‘You still seem so tired.’ He hummed, walking beside you, holding some of your belongings. ‘Probably because I couldn’t get comfortable enough to actually sleep.’ You grumble. He basically stared at you for a second before dragging you along with him. You simply sigh, too lazy to fight against him.
Your head bounced slightly as your back hit his bed. ‘Go ahead and get cozy. I’ll be right back.’ You simply nod, already dozing off in his rather warm comforter, the darkness of his room already soothing you. You just couldn’t help but to shut your eyes the second you finally get his covers on top of you.
You eventually wake up, feeling someone watching you. It wasn’t a creepy stare or anything but a stare of admiration that he held for you. You flutter your eyes open as you look up to LILIA. ‘Your eyes are beautiful, love.’ He hummed with pure fondness, kissing your forehead before rubbing your back gently, his soft touch already calming your nerves. ‘I hope that someday your… No, Our children share them.’ You mumbled, placing your lips against his as he wrapped her arms all the way around you.
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gossameres · 1 month ago
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chapter one, off record
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pairing: peter parker x f. reader
notes: back in my mcu phase and was just thinking about how sad nwh's ending was... so spoilers for that i suppose. i dont have much planned so it might just be a short lil mini series unless ppl send some ideas!
word count: 3.5k
warnings: angst, insinuation of mental illness
series masterlist! next.
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Peter Parker never truly knew silence—not the kind that fills your lungs like smoke, or brushes over your skin like snowfall. Not the kind that soothes, or settles, or forgives. No, the only silence Peter knew was the kind that echoes. That haunts.
Maybe no one ever does—not really.
But for Peter, that quiet kind of stillness became more of a memory than a feeling, a concept he kept chasing but could never hold. There had always been noise derived from grief, from responsibility, from the weight of a world he didn’t ask to carry. Always static, always the hum of loss disguised as living. The ache of everything he'd carried for too long. He hadn’t known peace since his parents died. Since Uncle Ben. Since the spider bite. Since the Avengers, the aliens, the multiverse, Aunt May, the fallout of too many battles with too little sleep in between. And then that final undoing—when the world forgot who Peter Parker was, and he let it.
It wasn’t peace. It was absence dressed in silence.
The closest thing he could recall to peace came before all of that—maybe when he was a baby, untouched by memory, too new to the world to register the ache it would one day press into him. Or maybe, later, in the warmth of shared laughter with Ned and MJ.
Michelle Jones-Watson. A name that used to mean everything.
And now? Now it was just a name.
She was the last place he ever felt at home. But that home was gone. She didn’t know him anymore and the moment he realized that, truly and fully, was the first time he saw her again. The door to Peter Pan Donut & Pastry chimed, the world stilled, and there she was—behind the counter like some kind of cruel mirage. Same dry humor curling at the corners of her mouth. Same careful, unreadable eyes.
Peter had rehearsed something to say. A script, full of delicate truths and quiet hope. But the second she looked at him like he was nobody—a stranger—every word stuck to the back of his throat.
He said his name. Like it meant anything. Like it would light something in her.
It didn’t.
That moment gutted him. He smiled too hard, talked too fast. Fidgeted like a schoolboy. Watched her too long, like some ghost begging to be remembered. She hadn’t known him, but he had remembered everything.
That was the cruelest part.
He remembered MJ. And Ned. And Aunt May. And everyone he’d ever lost. The people who made him feel like he was still just a kid from Queens, like life wasn’t always going to be this hard. But now they were gone, or they didn’t remember, or they were six feet under. What a weight for a teenager to carry.
He could’ve told them—MJ and Ned, right then and there. The truth. Everything. Hope they believe him. Try to convince them. But he didn’t because Peter had learned what happened when he put his wants above the world. He’d learned what selfishness cost.
And Spider-Man didn’t get to be selfish.
He left with a coffee he didn’t like, and a hole where her recognition should’ve been. And still, he came back. Again and again, he came back. Like the routine could stitch something back together, pike if he stayed close enough, maybe something in her would stir. Maybe some part of her would look at him and feel it—that pull, that gravity, that familiarity.
It never came.
Even then, he sat in that café with a coffee too bitter, listening to the barista call his name—“Peter Parker, black coffee, no room”—like it wasn’t a tragedy in a sentence and pretend it didn’t splinter him a little more every time.
And God, wasn’t that the definition of pathetic? Coming back. Hoping. Wanting. But he couldn’t help it because there was a semblance of comfort, even in the ache. A familiarity in the pain.
He told himself it wasn’t weird, showing up so often. He could always claim coincidence if she asked, but he knew the truth. The coffee cost more than he could afford, especially with a paycheck from a video game store and rent he barely scraped together. But it was a cost he was willing to bear and was a routine he needed to survive.
And in that routine, loneliness settled in.
Sometimes he spoke out loud, just to hear his own voice. Not to anyone—just the air. Just the walls. Just to remind himself he still existed.
Anything. “You’re okay,” he’d whisper. “You’re here. You’re still here.”
Other nights, he wasn’t so sure.
There were nights where the city became an echo chamber. Where every window flickering with life reminded Peter of how far he’d drifted from the world, normalcy, the past. The streets breathed around him—neon and noise, strangers and sirens—and yet, it all felt quiet in the wrong way.
Lonely in a way that didn’t scream, just settled.
Sometimes, he’d spot a boy with Ned’s backpack, or hear MJ’s laugh in the pitch of someone else’s voice. Once, he stopped mid-step in the middle of a crosswalk because a girl with curls looked up from her phone, and for a second, something inside him cracked like ice.
It wasn’t them.
It was never going to be them. New York City was too big to randomly run into them.
Eventually, he began writing their names down. All of the names he knew. Over and over. Just names, no details on lined pages that never got full because he wrote so small, as if looping the letters could keep them from slipping further away. The notebook lived on his nightstand like a vigil. Some nights, it was the only proof he’d ever been loved. Something about seeing the letters made him feel like they were still real, like they hadn’t been taken from him in different, horrible ways.
He didn’t cry anymore, he didn’t even feel like he could. The grief had calcified into something quieter, something heavier. What he felt was hollow, like sitting alone in a room long after the music stops, still hearing it in his bones. Ringing, ringing, and ringing and he thinks if he stands still long enough, maybe someone will hit play again.
But no one does.
No one ever does.
He missed them all—MJ, Ned, Betty, even Brad and Flash. He missed the comfort of being known. The easy and predictable disarray of high school. The way they used to fill his world with noise that didn’t hurt.
Now the silence was unbearable. Silence meant grief.
His days became mechanical—wake up in a cramped studio apartment with a mattress on the floor and one lopsided chair that threatened to collapse any minute. Eat something cheap, dry, and stale, usually whatever he could grab without thinking twice. Clock into work. Swing through the city until the wind felt like a scream. Sleep. Then do it all again. It was a rhythm as monotonous as it was necessary, a routine that kept his never-ending thoughts at bay. The only rhythm that made sense anymore was the city beneath his boots and the sky above his head. The skyline remained his—his tether, his chapel. The wind against his suit, the city’s heartbeat beneath his palms. In that altitude, he was free. For a moment, he didn’t feel erased—it was familiar. At least that hadn’t been taken away.
He swung through the lower rooftops, weaving through cracks and alleys where no one gave a second thought to a young man in a mask. He stopped muggings that barely made the news and found lost pets wandering between buildings. The small, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man things. It wasn’t glamorous—far from it—but it was his anchor. It reminded him of where he started, and why he’d made the painful, selfless choice to let everyone forget him in the first place, even if that meant carrying the weight of that loss alone.
And yet, even this fragile thread of normalcy didn’t last forever.
Manhattan wasn’t Queens, but Queens was a memory too sharp to face anymore. He couldn’t afford May’s apartment, no matter how much it hurt to erase the last evidence he’d ever belonged somewhere. Each step away felt like a slow unraveling, a quiet surrender to the weight of all he’d lost.
Summer crept in slowly—thick with humidity and the kind of golden light that made the city look deceptively soft around the edges, shimmering like illusions. People filled parks and fire escapes, music bled out of open car windows, laughter echoed through alleyways and rooftops. The whole city felt like it was moving on.
But Peter wasn’t.
Every calendar reminder felt like a bruise. MIT loomed for MJ and Ned, their futures were already waiting for them—bright, real, full of possibility. A future that glittered just far enough away from him. A world full of promise that didn’t have room for his name. 
And Peter would still be here, in the same small apartment with the same threadbare mattress and the same invisible life. A ghost in his own story.
There were nights he sat on the roof of his apartment with his knees pulled to his chest, watching the sun set in streaks of orange and rust. He tried to imagine them, a hundred miles away, unpacking boxes and laughing together, meeting new people, living their lives. Lives where he didn’t exist. They were moving forward. And he was just stuck. He didn’t resent them, but he missed them dearly.
It made him feel selfish. Pathetic, even. He’d made the choice—he knew that. He chose their safety over his presence. He chose to vanish so they could shine.
But it still hurt.
And then there were the dreams. Not nightmares—those were easier, at least they made sense. No, these dreams were tender, quiet, mundane. MJ falling asleep on his shoulder in a library. Ned showing him funny videos during a study session. May humming in the kitchen, asking if he wanted grilled cheese. Dreams so soft they felt like lullabies—until he woke up and remembered none of it was his anymore and hyper aware of feeling like his chest had been hollowed out, like the air wasn’t meant for his lungs anymore.
He’d wanted to give them everything, and now he had nothing to show for it.
But May—God, May. If she were here, she’d tell him off. Tell him he wasn’t doing anyone any good by letting the grief rot in his gut. Tell him that surviving out of guilt wasn’t the same as living. That he was allowed to want more. That there might still be a world waiting for him, too.
So he started small.
He pulled out his laptop and looked up colleges in the city—places he could get to on foot, or by web, that didn’t ask for a past he no longer had.
Empire State University wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t part of any grand plan like him, MJ, and Ned heading off to MIT together, nor was it a chance to follow in Tony’s footsteps at his alma mater. But it was open, accessible, something.
He clicked “submit” with a stomach full of nerves and a heart so tired he couldn’t even hope properly. But when the acceptance email came a few weeks later, he stared at the screen like it was in another language. Not because he didn’t understand—but because it felt like it wasn’t meant for him.
Peter Parker didn’t exist on paper anymore, but maybe Spider-Man didn’t have to be all that was left.
So he chose a major in Science, Math, and Technology—something that still felt like his. Something he was still good at and might help rebuild the pieces he had left.
And for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t about saving anyone else.
It was about saving himself.
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College wasn’t like anything Peter had known.
High school had always been chaotic—first because he was a quiet nobody, then because he was a not-so-quiet somebody in a red and blue suit. Midtown High was a blur of stacks of homework, half-eaten lunches in the library, and trying to keep his dual life from collapsing. Now, no one here knew him. No whispered rumors, no sideways glances. Professors didn’t care. Students didn’t notice. He was invisible, not in the heroic way—but in the painfully ordinary one.
He kept mental notes as he wandered campus: tucked-away corners near fountains for studying, which food trucks looked passable, which buildings had the best air conditioning. He scratched off each class from his list, one by one, until only Chemistry Lab remained.
The afternoon sun was sharp overhead when he walked into the AC building, climbed the stairs to room 228, and stepped inside.
CHEM 3201: Organic Chemistry I Lab.
Find a partner.
The words glared from the board in dry-erase marker.
He took a spot at an empty bench, dropping his bag and pulling out a scuffed-up notebook. He scribbled the course title at the top of a fresh page and began sketching out a skeleton for his notes. The room was cold, sterile—smelling faintly of ethanol and whiteboard cleaner.
Peter was adjusting the spacing on his margin when someone slid into place beside him.
“Cool if we’re lab partners?”
Peter looked up.
The guy was tall. Tousled brown hair, warm brown eyes, easy grin. Everything about him radiated a kind of calm confidence—charming, slightly disheveled, like someone who naturally landed in the center of a room without trying.
Peter shifted his papers. “Yeah, sure.”
The guy slung his bag onto the stool beside him and smiled.
“Appreciate it. I’m Harry.”
Peter offered a small smile and a hand. “Peter. Peter Parker.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker,” Harry said, shaking his hand. “Name sounds like you’re either a poet or a guy with a strict grandmother who likes alliteration.”
Peter huffed a fake laugh through his nose. “Yeah, something like that.”
Harry grinned, tilting his head as he sat down. “You’re not gonna be weird and make me do all the work, right?”
Peter looked over at the nearly full page of setup notes he’d already written. “You wish.”
Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, overachiever. Got it.” He tried to keep it light, but Peter didn’t budge—just gave a tight-lipped half smile, like he was amused but determined not to admit it. Harry chuckled and shook his head. “No need to be so serious. I’m just here to make sure you don’t do all the work.”
Peter’s smile twitched a little more. “Keep dreaming.”
Harry grinned. “Fair enough. Team effort, then.”
The classroom filled up quickly, chairs scraping, backpacks thudding. The professor entered just after the last student, gray-haired and expressionless as he shut the door behind him.
“Welcome to CHEM 3201,” he said without preamble. “You’ll be spending the semester identifying, synthesizing, and occasionally lighting things on fire. If you’re afraid of your eyebrows, drop now.”
A few scattered chuckles. The professor didn’t smile.
“Today is easy. You and your partner will test three unknown samples and identify the functional groups based on their physical properties and pH behavior. Instructions and kits are at the front. Log your process and preliminary observations. That’s it. You’ve got an hour. Begin.”
Peter and Harry stood to grab a kit and brought it back to their bench. Harry unscrewed the first sample while Peter pulled the pH strips and safety goggles from the tray.
“So,” Harry said, holding up the vial to the light, “what’s the over-under on this smelling like death?”
Peter leaned in. “High. Always is when it’s something acidic.”
He dabbed a strip, watched the color shift almost instantly, and jotted it down.
“pH’s around 2,” he said, “and it’s soluble in water. Carboxylic acid, most likely.”
Harry blinked. “Wait, you got all that already?”
Peter nodded absently, noting the next test. “It’s a classic pattern. Low pH, water soluble, strong odor. You see it enough times, it’s kind of obvious.”
Harry stared at him. “Dude… are you secretly a genius or just incredibly confident about your guesses?”
Peter paused—then laughed. Actually laughed. A full, unguarded one that caught him by surprise. It had been a long time since something came out of his mouth that wasn’t weighed down by memory.
Harry smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “So that’s a ‘yes, I’m a genius and totally Einstein’s long-lost heir,’ right?”
Peter shook his head, still smiling as he reached for the next vial. “Maybe I’ve just had a lot of practice.”
“Well,” Harry said, slipping on his goggles and grinning, “if you’re gonna carry the team, at least let me do the dramatic labeling. Deal?”
Peter passed him the sharpie. “Knock yourself out.”
Harry twirled it like a drumstick. “Oh, I will. I take labeling very seriously. This is an art form, Parker.”
He carefully scrawled “Sample A—Mystery Death Juice” on the label with dramatic flourish.
Peter blinked. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“What?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You said I could knock myself out. Artistic freedom. Creative expression, if you will.”
“You sound like someone who failed this class once already.”
Harry grinned. “Bold of you to assume I’ve ever even taken chemistry.”
Peter gave him a look, but the way Harry was measuring the next sample—holding it up like a wine critic evaluating notes of tragedy—made it impossible not to smile.
They worked through the rest of the samples in tandem, Peter scribbling data and hypotheses with the ease of someone who actually found comfort in lab work, while Harry narrated everything like they were co-hosting a late-night science show.
“And here we have Sample B,” Harry said quietly, “smells like vinegar and looks like the aftermath of my Saturday night antics.”
Peter tried not to chuckle but failed, the sound bubbling up before he could stop it.
“Man, I haven’t even been here a full day and I’m already doing your emotional labor,” Harry said, mock-exasperated. “Keeping you alive through humor? Exhausting.”
Peter smirked. “Well, someone’s gotta do it.”
They looked over their notes together once the hour wound down. Harry was surprisingly engaged despite his commentary—asking questions, pointing out patterns, actually keeping up. When they handed in their lab worksheet, the professor gave them a gruff nod without comment, which was probably a win.
As they stepped out into the sunlit hallway, a wave of warmth hit them—late summer lingering just a little longer.
“That was surprisingly painless,” Harry said, stretching his arms above his head. “Might not even drop the class.”
Peter slung his backpack over one shoulder. “You were considering it?”
“Oh, absolutely. Chemistry and I have a long, storied history of mutual hatred. But I guess if I have a brainiac lab partner and access to high-quality Sharpies, I might survive.”
Peter glanced over at him, hesitant but curious. “You, uh… you going into science?”
Harry shook his head. “Nah. Business. Technically economics, but that’s just code for ‘I want my family to pay my rent while I pretend to be productive.’”
Peter let out another soft laugh, something quieter this time but just as real.
Harry tilted his head toward him. “What about you?”
“Science, math, and tech,” Peter said. “Kind of a mix of everything. Still figuring it out, honestly. But—why organic chem? Seems a little out of place for a business major.”
Harry’s expression shifted, a flicker of something serious crossing his eyes. “My dad’s company was biotech. He passed last year. So, I guess I’m supposed to know enough science to keep the business running—or at least not mess it up.”
Peter nodded slowly, sensing there was more beneath the surface but choosing not to press. “Sorry about your dad. But yeah, that makes sense. College is weird like that—everyone expects you to have a plan, but most of the time you’re just figuring it out as you go.”
Harry gave a small, knowing smile. “Exactly. Like you’re supposed to have it all mapped out, but half the time you’re winging it.”
“Half the time?”
“Okay, more like ninety percent.”
They reached the end of the hallway where the stairs split in two directions and paused.
“I’ll see you next week, Parker,” Harry said as he turned to leave. “Try not to invent quantum tunneling or rewrite the periodic table before then. Save some genius for the rest of us.”
Peter grinned. “No promises.”
Harry flashed a grin over his shoulder and disappeared down the stairwell.
Peter stood there for a second, still holding onto the tail end of that laugh. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the dust in the air, all soft and gold and aimless. For the first time in a long while, something felt different. Lighter. Not better, not healed, but like something had shifted. Like maybe he wasn’t only a ghost anymore, which just might be enough to start with.
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bejeweledblondie · 2 years ago
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Mockingbird
Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader
Summary: Your little baby girl has started to run a fever, & only Simon can give her the comfort she needs
A/N: So a lil fun fact about me I’m actually a Mrs. Riley (no I’m not kidding) & those photos made by the incredibly talented @ave661 have made my baby fever kick in so badly especially when hearing people use “Baby Riley” & seeing all the men my husband is serving with currently put their little ones in the cutest baby gear isn’t helping it 😭
Warnings: none
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Two days. You hadn’t gotten a full nights sleep in two days. Your breasts ached from not being pumped consistently & your little one wouldn’t latch due to the croop cough that been making her feel miserable. You had contacted the pediatrician to see what you could do to help your wailing baby. Since the croop was common in babies all you could do was give her medicine & try to soothe her. Her cries were starting to make you emotional. You felt her whole body tense as she coughed. Tears started to fall as her cries echoed off of the walls of the nursery. Today Simon was coming home from a training exercise, & thankfully he was the one thing that without fail could soothe her.
You had just given her some medicine & the taste really upset her.
“I know my sweet girl,” You told her. “Let me turn on the nebulizer.” You flipped on the little machine that was shaped like a giraffe, a baby gift you were now thankful for. A steady stream of steam came out & you sat down in the rocking chair facing her towards the steam. Through her crying you hear the cough starting to break up. The sound of the door opening made you sit up more & you hear him taking off his combat boots.
“Love?” He said as he walked up the stairs.
“I’m in the babies room.” You replied. He walked in still in his combat pants, & uniform t-shirt. “She won’t stop crying baby, I don’t want to do.”
“Give her to me love, I’m in need of some daddy daughter bonding time.” He said. Your daughter immediately stopped wailing & cooing in the arms of her father. Her little arms reaching for his face. “You missed your daddy didn’t you?” He asked her. Her little hand wrapping around his index finger. “Come on love let’s let your mummy rest & let’s take a bath.”
“Thank you,” You mouthed to him & turned off the humidifier. You gave him a kiss & then walked into your shared bedroom. Your body felt instant relief as soon as you laid down. Slumber consumed you very quickly & you fell into a deep sleep.
Simon had taken your baby girl into the bathroom, & started a warm bath for her. She let out a wicked wet cough, & her whole body shook with each one she let out. He placed her in the bath & by the look in her eyes Simon could tell it was providing comfort for her. The steam from the water lingering in the air mixed with washing away the thin layer of sweat that came from the fever soothed her.
“I bet that probably feels better my love.” He said as he started to wash her sandy blonde locks. Her eyes rolled to back of her head as he massaged the baby shampoo into her scalp. He took the empty cup beside him & filled it with the water from the tub to rinse out the shampoo. Her eyes started to close & her mouth was slightly open admitting little snores. Simon smiled at his daughter, she was the most precious thing in his life (other then you of course.) He was first initially apprehensive about being a father, but after she was born he couldn’t imagine not being one. She was fully passed out in the baby bath tub by the time he went to drain the water.
He wrapped her small little body in a warm towel & brought her into the nursery. Gently he laid her down on the changing table & started to apply some lotion to her body. His large hands massage it into her skin making her smile in her sleep from the relaxing sensation. He gently tugged on her chubby legs stretching her. Simon read it once in a baby book that it was good to stretch your baby out to help with their flexibility & he’s done it every night he’s home. Usually she’s wiggly & he has to hand her the lotion bottle to stay preoccupied but she was tuckered out.
He applied some baby powder to & put a nice clean fresh diaper on her. She was started to breath heavier from the cough. Her little body started to stir & he turned on the humidifier for her. He pressed her small frame into his chest. Her little face was smushed up against his chest. A little bit of drool started to pool onto his chest. He sat down in the steam with her & her little body wasn’t trying as hard to breath. His large hand that held her to his chest started to rub small circles on her little back. Once she was fully relaxed again he placed her in the crib. He reached into the crib & placed her favorite pacifier in her mouth. She immediately took to it & he ran a finger over her flushed cheeks.
“Sleep tight my sweet girl.” He quietly said & turned on her night light. After he took a shower himself washing away all the grime & sweat from the strenuous training exercise he endured he crawled into bed with you. You felt his body eclipse you as he laid down. Slowly you turned to face him eyes still heavy. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep my love she’s all settled.” He softly whispered. You laid your head down on your pillow, & he did the same letting sleep consume the both of you.
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quimichi · 1 year ago
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Hi, I was hoping I could get a genshin and HSR match up if they're still open? I use she/her pronouns, and I have a romantic preference for men. I'm a big time introvert and not one for small talk but I always try to be polite and kind. I've been described as being too sensible by multiple people but I will also laugh at some of the dumbest stuff. My hobbies include writing, drawing and cooking, generally I like anything creative. I hope this is okay and that you have a lovely day!
A/n: I really hope you like my answer! I just thought that someone who can understand and appreciate you would fit so much more better than the opposite ♡
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FREMINET
@ awww look at those two introverts in love ♡
@ understands you all to well. You want your peace and quite? He'll leave you to yourself and lets you draw, take a nap, read or whatever.
@ greatly appreciates if you'd do the same, but only really rarely. He does enjoy your company a lot! You bring him internal peace. Just having you sit beside him while he works on a new project really gives him motivation.
@ psst, he wants to show off, just a little ;)
@ takes you diving with him! I hope you're not scared of the ocean tho- if you are, he'll guide you through it. He never lets go of your hand, even if it means that he will have a constant blush on his face and butterflys in his tummy. If you really are way, WAY to scared tho, he would obviously never force you. You two just walk by the shore collecting some seashells!
@ and if you love/like the ocean, he would shyly ask you if you wanna join him. Like everytime he would ask you. Or at least if you wanna wait for him by the shore.
@ LOVES LOVES LOVES to see your drawings, if you wanna show them that is. He can also draw yk, so someone who shares the same talent would also mean for him to share his supplies. Dw, take them without asking, it's a relationship after all.
@ and if you want you can make designs for his toy projects for the kids!
@ Is just as sensitive as you, maybe more, maybe less. But what is definitely a fact, is that he will comfort you nonetheless. Depends on how you wanna be comforted tho. Bit i think his style would be, have a cup of tea and let it aaaall out. Vent on him, he can listen well.
@ the twins think you two were meant to be-! Really supportive of you two.@ And Father is just as happy, she can't show it, but you're part of the family now sooo...you better not hurt her boy :)
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DAN HENG
@ well--if you love writing, you're prefect with dan heng cause he loves reading-
@ would understand if you don't want him to read your written pieces, but would feel very honored if you would show him. Even just a glimpse would get him to praise you.
@ if you do show him--damn he would unintentionally correct your grammar or phrasing. Not that he shits on your grammar, its just-idk how to describe it he means it really nice but in dan heng style it comes off more as cold
@ and the corrections of your phrasings are just ideas on how to change things or make it more interesting. He probably read more books than the whole astral express crew together, like easily.
@ thats why he would get it if you don't wanna show him---he's aware lol
@ BUT! what he would do 100% and nobody can stop him, is reading to you ♡
@ lay in his arms and relax. Let his soothing voice lull you to sleep~ And if you wanna read on your own, do that, he'll wait for you to turn the page.
@ would also 100% discuss what you two read afterwards lol. Like a lil bookclub
@ he can actually cook, very well too. But he always says his skills are nowhere near yours, even if you deny it, he stands his point.
@ gracefully DEVOURS your food and asks for a second plate ♡
@ oh look, someone who also hates small take, yay. You two were so awkward at the beginning of the whole relationship. The beginning of the whole meeting each other for the first time too!
@ it was definitely him who took all the first steps. Even more awkward cause....he only knows the most things form books cause he has no real life experience-
@ made the mistake of asking March-the things he went through just for you-you better be greatful (jkjk)
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cryingatwindermerepeaks · 7 months ago
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Little!April x Cg!Ben - Leaving
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just a lil ficlet of how I see the decision being made that April will go to D.C. with Ben !! My fave da and bubba at the moment (I didn’t edit this cause I’m supposed to be studying … mama ann content coming in the next few days will be much better tho)
Word count: 1204
Everything was perfect. April was on the couch with her back against Andy’s shoulder as he played the Xbox. She had her bat paci in her mouth and her stuffie in her arms. She was even wearing one of Andy’s flannels which swamped her and made her feel tiny. Andy was feeling a bit bigger than usual and was playing scary games which April thought were so cool. She was happily listening to the sounds of the games and suckling her pacifier when Ben came in. “Hey ‘Pril,” he smiled, ruffling April’s hair playfully. She groaned and squirmed away but it didn't really upset her. “Hey, can I talk to you kids?” Ben asked.
“Can I finish this level?” Andy asked without taking his eyes off the screen. April rolled her eyes, Andy was too obsessed. She leant over and turned off his game. “April!” Andy whined.
April dropped her paci onto the couch, “Da needs to talk,” she shrugged.
“Thanks April. Andy, this is only going to take a minute.” Ben sat down on the ottoman opposite the couch, clasping his hands together nervously. “I’ve taken a job in Washington running a congressional campaign, I'm going to be away for a few months.” April’s heart sank. He couldn’t leave. She needed Da. Who else would make her bottles and let her draw on their face and back her up when Andy’s being annoying? And how would she sleep if Da didn’t tuck her in?
“What’s a coressional campaign?” Andy asked. How could he care about that right now? Da was leaving. This was the worst news ever.
“Well, it’s sort of like what Leslie did on a bigger scale buddy,” Ben explained. April’s chest felt heavy and wrong. She didn’t want to cry or to have Ben know that she cared so much but her eyes were burning and her cheeks felt hot. “April, are you alright little bat?” April shook her head firmly and reached out for Ben. He pulled her into his lap, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. “What happened, what’s going on in your little head?” April just huffed, now her face was hidden away she couldn’t hold back her tears. Ben frowned, rubbing circles against April’s back.
“Pril crying?” Andy questioned, rocking back and forth nervously, the out of character emotional outburst from his wife making him feel smaller.
“She’s alright, she’s just a little bit sad right now. I think she’s gonna miss Da, hm?” He questioned gently, trying to soothe April’s tear stricken face out of hiding.
“Nooo,” she whined, rubbing at her cheeks. Another wave of sobs hit her quickly and she tightened her grip on Ben’s shirt.
Andy shuffled up to the edge of the couch so he could reach over and pat her shoulder comfortingly. “You’re allowed to miss Da, ‘Pril.” April just whined and curled closer to Ben. She knew that if she was a bit bigger she would not let herself do this but she felt so small and she needed her Da.
“You’re alright baby bat, I’m right here,” Ben soothed, gently bouncing her on his knee. He picked up her pacifier off the couch and slipped it back into her mouth. The comfort item soothed April enough to stop the sobs. She still clung to Ben. “Alright, there we go.” Ben gently coaxed April’s face away from his shoulder, cupping her face in one hand and wiping her tears away with the other. “That’s it, you got it. Change can be scary can’t it, hm? But that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
April’s face scrunched up, it was bad. “Bad bad bad,” she huffed, pressing her hands against her ears.
“No little Bat, it would just mean you could spend some more time with Leslie, or maybe Auntie Ann, doesn’t that sound nice?” April shook her head firmly, it did not sound nice. She wanted Da and she wanted everything to stay the same. Her life was nice, it was good. Everyday she came home and Da was always there to take care of her and Andy was there to play with her so, no, she didn’t think change would be nice. “Alright, that’s alright. You don’t have to like it right now.”
Andy huffed and leant back dramatically, growing bored and fidgety, “can I keep playing now?”
“No, go take a shower Bud, Leslie’s coming over for dinner.”
By the time Leslie arrived for dinner both the kids were showered and in their pajamas. April had calmed down significantly and was now wearing her favourite pyjamas - a short sleeve set with a little bat in the middle of the top and purple shorts. She stayed close to Ben, silently following him around the kitchen as he prepared calzones. “April, would you like me to brush your hair?” Leslie offered, noticing the girls wet and matted hair. April shook her head firmly, holding onto the hem of Ben’s shirt.
“April, go with Leslie darling.” April huffed and stomped her foot, frustrated tears pooling in her eyes.
Leslie frowned in confusion, unaware of April’s earlier upset. “What’s the matter April, this isn’t like you,”
Ben sighed, wrapping his arm around April. “She’s a bit upset that I’m going to D.C.” he explained. April shook her head and rubbed harshly at her eyes.
“Am not.”
Leslie sighed, “C’mere April.” April whined but reluctantly slipped onto the stool next to Leslie. “You know I’m gonna miss Ben too,” she explained as she began to brush April’s hair. “But he won’t be gone very long.” April crossed her arms, why didn’t they understand? This wasn’t ok. Everything was good how it was. Slowly Leslie began to realise the root of April’s upset. It wasn’t just that she’d miss Ben, it was that she didn’t want anything to change. “You know, Ben will need an assistant in Washington,” she suggested, glancing at Ben as she tied off the two plaits in April’s hair.
Ben realised what Leslie was suggesting quickly. “Wait, Pril, do you wanna come with Da?” April nodded eagerly.
“Please?”
“I don’t see why not,” Ben shrugged.
“Wha’ about Andy?”April asked, taking one of her plaits and chewing on the end.
“Andy,” Ben called. Andy poked his head up from behind the couch, a crayon sticking out of his mouth. “Andy.”
“Andy, crayon out please,” Leslie instructed. Andy frowned but spat it out.
“Thanks Buddy. What would you think if April came with me on that trip we talked about? Would you wanna come with us?” Andy scrunched his face up, Washington sounded fancy and grown up, plus he had to work on becoming a police officer!
“Psht no,” he laughed, “Burt Macklin has work to do!” And with that Andy disappeared back behind the couch.
“Well then ‘Pril,” Ben smiled, “what do you think of a little Da and April trip?”
April swung her legs happily. “Dada, ‘Pril.”
“Well it’s decided then, I’ll call Jenn in the morning.” He leant over and kissed the top of April’s head. Ben found the idea of having April with him in Washington comforting, knowing he wouldn’t have to worry about her all alone anymore.
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harleyquilt · 1 year ago
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Touken/Kanetou family HCs constantly on my mind:
Ichika usually wakes up before Kaneki and Touka, as most children do, and in the mornings, she will climb into her parents' bed and snuggle up between them. She'll sometimes bring a toy or two and play with them, whispering their dialogue. Half-awake, Kaneki usually pulls her into a hug, and Touka will poke and tickle her until she starts giggling. They'll sometimes groan about wanting to sleep in more, especially when she climbs over them when getting onto the bed, but they can't deny someone so cute and lovable.
Ichika tries coffee one time as a child, and it leaves her scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out, saying "ewww". It leaves Touka a lil hurt and taken aback, and Kaneki comforts her, reminding her that no child really likes coffee. She nods solemnly and tries to take the coffee back, but for some reason, this upsets Ichika and she begins to cry. There's no real solution here, that's just how kids are.
When Ichika's younger sibling is born, (a boy, I like to think), she has an unreadable expression the first time she sees him. She says she's happy, but Touka and Kaneki can't tell if she's telling the truth. Touka is more confident that she'll adjust, recalling her own experience, but Kaneki worries still. Then, a few sleepless nights later, they come across Ichika reading to her brother, who had been crying moments before. Kaneki often reads to her before she goes to sleep, and now she's doing the same for her brother, stumbling over the sentences and rubbing her brother's tummy to soothe him. It works, and Kaneki struggles not to cry.
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gretavanlace · 2 years ago
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Poppins (Epilogue)
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, impact play, etc, happy tears, idk
Thank you for sticking with Poppins and all the heartbreak that came with it. I hope we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief and acknowledge that this was the only ending that was right for our dear characters. I love you all and thank you for going along for the ride with me❤️ ps- I didn’t expect to post this until tomorrow so it’s very lightly edited, forgive me
Josh’s warmth is what wakes you. His weight carefully hovering over you; chest pressed against your back, mouth humming along with tiny, breathy sounds as his lips travel the curve of your jaw.
You nuzzle further into the pillow, which feels a little too warm under the muted sunlight filtering into the room for your liking. You’ve never been much of a morning person.
Slowly though, he and Lil are changing that. Their sunny dispositions mirror one another’s and feed off of shared glee as they happily greet each new day. It is nothing short of infectious.
It’s difficult to be grouchy in a home filled to the brim with their lovely early hour enthusiasm.
“Time to open your eyes, sleeping beauty.” His voice curls across the shell of your ear, low and slow. You know that voice all too well.
“Better slow your roll, Joshua,” You mumble, eyes closed, body still heavy with slumber, “She’ll be awake and climbing into bed any second.”
“She’s been awake, sweetheart.” His lips are kissing love into your hair, lungs breathing you in deeply. “We read outside on the swing, and shared an apple. I fixed her hair pretty and helped her get dressed, and then Grandma came and whisked her away for a birthday girl breakfast. It’s just you and me.”
A smile flashes on your sleepy lips, stealing his heart away, “All that without me?”
He drops down against you a little heavier, a delicious weighted blanket of a man. “We decided to let mama sleep in. You looked very peaceful.”
Mama, mommy, mom when she’s exasperated…every iteration makes your body flush with maternal devotion and pride.
It had been over a dinner of pasta and salad when she’d first called you mommy like it was the most natural thing in the world. Picking at her plate, fist clutched around her fork, shoving a cherry tomato around, she’d explained how uncle sammy had made her angry that afternoon.
“I told him I wanted to hold Rosie’s leash,” she’d lamented. “But he said I’m too small to hold it at the dog park because she tries to run. I’m not too small though, mommy, I’m not!”
Josh had soothed her with something you hadn’t really heard through the blissed out ringing in your ears, cleared his throat, and excused himself.. You’d found him leaning over the bathroom sink, blinking tears away.
“Josh, I didn’t…” you had stumbled stupidly over your pitiful explanation, “I didn’t ask her to call me that. I’d never do that. I’m sorry, I understand why you’re upset….”
He’d turned on you so quickly you’d taken a step back in surprise, “Upset? Are you kidding me? I’ve never been less upset in my life. I don’t think I can even remember the definition of the word right now.”
Words kept in whispers, lest she overhear, he had pulled you into his arms, chin hooked over your shoulder to keep you close as he spoke, “I’ve waited such a long time for my little girl to have that moment that she just had. To be able to talk to her mama about her day while pretending to eat her vegetables. You belong here, sweetheart…you always have.”
What always stands to you about that moment of tears and whispers in the bathroom, of all places - what you think will always make you smile the hardest when you remember that night, is the fact that he never once asked you how you felt about it. He never asked if it had made you uncomfortable. Never questioned your love for Lily, he knew. He knew.
And now here you lie, cozy under the covers with your beautiful Josh pestering you with adoration and kisses, while the incredible little human being who calls you mommy shares a birthday breakfast with her grandmother.
“All alone,” Josh hushes into your ear, breaking the spell of innocence clouding your head. “Just me,” he leans up on his elbow, making room for his hand to slip beneath the sheets. “And you.”
“Joshua Michael,” you scold lightly, parting for him when his fingers begin to walk up the inside of your thigh, “You’re an insatiable pervert, you realize…a deviant.”
His giggle, huffed and sultry, somehow parts your thighs even further. “I’m not the one spreading my legs like a whore. I’ve barely touched you. Naughty girl.”
A shiver shakes your spine, driven by his words and the fingers he’s now sweeping over your panties. He is sunshine and light, love and laughter, all wrapped up in a gorgeous package that can switch on a dime and drench you in filth.
“I also happen to love it when you middle name me…” he confesses, circling your clit just to listen to you sigh. “Makes me impossibly hard.”
As if to prove himself, he grinds his cock into the small of your back, smiling against your cheek when you whimper.
“Listen to you,” he sounds mockingly sympathetic, “you’re very whiny, and so soon. Why, baby? Are you wet? Is it all slick and hot right here?” He presses at your panties a touch harder, “Would my pretty girl like to cum?”
“Listen to you,” you turn the tables, reaching back to drag your nails against his scalp. “You’re being very dirty. I think you’re feeling whinier than I am. You just hide it better. Isn’t that right, Josh? You’re just eager to fuck me all filthy and nasty in this big empty house where no one can hear, aren’t you? You want it, don’t you?”
He’s rocking into the swell of your ass now, fingers sliding over you, pressing satin into your folds, tapping at your swollen clit, teasing teasing teasing.
“Yeah,” his breath pants over your cheek, hard and quick, “yeah I fucking want it…and so do you. Cotton candy cunt is just begging for me, soaking your sweet panties, crying for cock. For my cock.”
Cotton candy never fails to make you weak, he’d called it that the first time he’d made you see stars, pressed up against the door that now stands open because there is no one here but the two of you.
His fingers have sneaked into your mouth, and you can’t seem to repress a prayer of his name as you suck and lick at them.
“Shh,” he hushes, so cocksure and sexy, “don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Give it to me,” you pull away, longing for it to sound like a demand, but it slips off your tongue like the plea that it is as you reach back, trying to fight your panties down from your awkward position.
“Wanna taste you first,” he yanks your underwear down for you. “Want that beautiful pussy in my mouth, right in my fucking mouth,” with you bare enough for him to sink his fingers into the globe of your ass, he cracks a swift smack against it. “Tell me you want me to lick you. Tell me you want to cum pretty on my tongue.”
Your body is writhing now, twisting feverishly in a futile attempt to roll over and rip your nightshirt off all at once.
He’s having none of it, “I said fucking tell me,” he spanks you again, harder this time, groaning when you cry out, saturating the room with a needy, wailed moan.
“I want it, baby, please,” oh, how easily he can reduce you to a quaking, begging fool, not a thought in her head but Josh. “I want your mouth. I want to cum for you. Make me cry, Josh, make me fucking cry…make me cum.”
He growls out as his teeth drag over your cheek, and then your eyes are struggling to focus on the ceiling, head spinning from being flipped over without warning.
“Make you cum?” He’s taunting you now, kissing his way down to your breasts, making love to your nipples with his devious mouth. “Make you cry? Now why would I want to make my sweetheart cry?”
A soft bite arches your back away from the mattress, “Josh, baby….”
“Josh,” he whispers, tongue traveling the valley between your tits, “Josh, baby, don’t you sound meek? Like the prettiest wallflower who just wants to feel good…my sweet, sweet, sweetheart. I told you to fucking tell me…”
You know what he wants, and so you give it to him. “I want your mouth on me. I want you to lick me,” your hand fists in his hair, pulling him from your breast. “This, right here,” now you’re pinching at his plump, velvety bottom lip, fingertips pushing in to say hello to his warm, wet tongue “my pussy wants it so bad. Wrap these pretty lips around my clit until I make a mess.”
His face is buried between your legs so quickly you have to blink your way out of confusion. Just as quickly, you’re gripping and tugging at his curls, hips rocking up into his kiss while you beg him to stroke his dick while he devours your cunt.
“Yeah?” He mumbles, heavy and hot, into your aching flesh, “You want me to touch my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy?”
“Yes, yes, yes…” you fall away into nothing sounds, mewling and keening into the morning light. A grunt as he shakes his face back and forth tells you he’s given you what you’ve asked for…and the sounds that chase that grunt shove you closer to the edge.
“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum so hard,” it’s but a breath, you don’t know if he’s even heard you until his fervent nod answers back, save for the moans muffling from between your legs.
It is a warm wave that explodes over you as though you're the jagged, rocky shore. At the crest of it, you bolt upright, cradling his head against you as you pump your hips in time with your throbbing pulse, groaning like a jezebel until the walls drip with your sobs.
He doesn’t pull away until you’re pushing at his forehead and gasping for reprieve. When his breathtaking face resurfaces, it’s pink-cheeked and shining with your release.
“I’m fucking covered in you,” he crawls up, running the back of his hand across his mouth, mussing the soft hairs that perch above it. “Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?”
He’s shoving and kicking his pants away as you pull his lips to yours, savoring your cunt and his need, all over them.
“Fuck me,” you’re clawing and pulling at him, hands flying about without care or thought as he bites at your collar bone.
“Yeah?” The tip slides, swollen and warm, against you, nudging at your quivering clit. “You want this? You want me to stuff your snug little cunt all full of me? Fuck you wide open?”
Your teeth are clenched and grinding though your reply, “Yes, fuck me…I want it, Josh. Give it to me, give it to your girl.”
That lazy drag against your center continues, “Think you deserve it, sweetheart? Does my baby deserve my cock this morning? Have you been a real good girl? Pout sweet, yeah? Make me want to give it to you.”
You turn your eyes soft, wide and wet, “Don’t you want to give it to me? Haven’t I been so good for you? Came pretty on your tongue just like you asked.”
A weak sound, something akin to a whimper, ripples out of his chest as he presses into you, gentle and slow. “Maybe you deserve just a little, huh? Don’t you, baby? Maybe you deserve just the tip, hmm?”
“Yes,” you lie, “Just the tip.”
He’s a liar too, and you both know it the second he slips inside.
“So fucking warm, sweetheart,” his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck, as he continues his relentless teasing, slipping just the silky soft head in and out of you “So fucking tight. Perfect, wet pussy, pretty and pink, greedy…all mine.’
“Yours,” you nod, pulling him in with your heels dug firmly into the base of his spine until you’re deliciously filled with him and rolling against his body like a glutton.
“Oh, you think you’re just gonna take what you want?” He sounds so sure of himself, but you can feel the resolve leaching from his frame, “Squeeze my cock with that needy cunt, then, sweetheart. Show me she loves it with a filthy little hug, dirty girl.”
You clench around him with a whine you wish you could say was purposeful, for as well as it works. The second it escapes your parted lips he’s pounding into you. Pressing into your lower stomach with a flattened palm and a hitching, “You feel me right here? You feel my cock right here, baby? So deep…fuck, so deep.” Fucking your body into the mattress as you claw at his shoulders, and gnash into his chest savagely.
“That’s it,” he grits out, huffing the words out between cruel snaps of his hips, “Tear into me, sweetheart. Make it fucking hurt. Harder,”
A growl, so reminiscent of a wild animal’s call, bursts forth from your heaving chest as you bite and suck at him, and it only serves to make him fuck away at you faster, deeper.
“Come on and cum for me,” his fingers are wrapped around the nape of your neck now, shoving your mouth against him. “Bite, baby, fucking bite. Hard. Do it.”
Sinking your teeth into his alabaster skin you let go, pulling away without weakening your grip, leaving a raised, purple and pink constellation in your wake as you shudder and convulse beneath his weight…calling his name, howling and shaking as those tears you’d begged for finally streak over your temples to chase each other into your tangled hair.
He’s lost it above you completely - cursing and grabbing at you wherever his wandering hands happen to land, his beautiful cock twitching frantically as it spills inside you. Filling you up, wet and dripping, as you both search for sure footing.
You haven’t all the time in the world, and surely you waste far too much of it staring at each other with his hands cupping your face - at last, he rolls to his side, curling himself around you until you feel safe and sound.
“You’re obscene, you know that?” You smile up at the ceiling, watching the fan as it swirls lazy circles above your heads.
“Oh yes, my love, I know,” he sighs, brushing a lock of hair from your face, “I make no apologies. We should shower.”
You nod, half sad to see it end, and half elated to get a move on for Lily’s big day. “Let’s shower, then I’ll run and pick up her cake. It won’t say Elizabeth this year, I can assure you. She’ll be in therapy over that for years,
Joshua.”
“Yeah, yeah…” his grip sinks into your ribs, tickling you gently. “Can you believe she’s five today? Five! I hate it.”
“I hate it too.” You nod, solemnly. “Talk to the science department on campus, tell them we need an anti-aging device or something.”
A laugh bursts out of him, dragging one out of you alongside it, “I’ll get right on that. Jake’s gonna be here around one, I told him his job is to blow up balloons. It’ll keep him quiet.”
“I bought a helium tank.” You remind him, toying with his fingers.
“He doesn’t have to know that.” His lips peck a quick line along your cheekbone. “I think he really might like this one. It’s getting kinda serious…well, as serious as Jake is capable of.”
“The girl he met in Lansing?” The jealousy that once might have lived inside your question is nonexistent. “Is he bringing her?”
“No,” his fingers tangle back around yours, “said today was Lil’s day and he wouldn’t draw focus from that. You know how he is.”
“He loves her so much,” now you’re choking up, but it’s because of Lily, not because of some errant territorial claim. Jake isn’t yours, and he never really was.
“That he does,” Josh nods and then tugs at you as he rolls off the bed and onto his feet. “C’mon now, sweetheart, shower time before the two most discerning women in our lives come back and discover us in a compromising situation.”
You follow after him, leaving the twisted sheets behind you, asking if he’ll wash your hair.
He turns around, eyebrow hooked like you should know better as he adjusts the water temperature. “Of course I’ll wash your hair, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’m always going to take care of you.”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake
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sierrathelilypad · 4 months ago
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HELLO. HERE FOR THE ASK GAME BECAUSE CERTAIN BSD CHARACTERS NEED MORE CONTENT
Ango 🍼🪁🐾?
HII omg i'm so late to this SORRY (^∧^) I'm surviving my exam week ( ・3・)
But let's see, Angoo my beloved sleep deprive lil guy
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🍼 -> his favorite of gear?... Good question! I don't think Ango likes colorfull stuff. When he's big, he prefers colors like brown, beige, deep green... like the ones you'd find in a pretty cafeteria! When he's little, he finds unsaturated ones soothing! Saturated ones are too harsh and overstimulating for his little mind (not to mention that his eyes must constantly be sore from looking at his computer all day...). I think chew toys like those necklace ones (those sticks or prism looking ones!) are his favorites. You can accidentaly drop them and they're not gonna hit the ground, and little!Ango loves to bite his knuckles, but that can hurt! So, chew toy it is (。uωu)♪
🪁 -> how does he play? I'm gonna be serioues right now and say that i don't think Ango plays when he regresses. The kid just wants to sleep and relax... even watching TV can be tough for him (again because of his eyes... (ノω・、) ). I think he'd love to watch nature, like seeing and hearing the waves breaking! (Yokohama is a coastal city, isn't it?)
🐾 -> i had to think a lot about this one hahaha (* ̄∇ ̄*) i'm not very familiar with petre still, so i don't know how to write it very well. Nevertheless, for Ango, i can't think of him regressing to any animal unless it's an otter. I dunno! I just think it fits him so well and otters are so cute (* >ω<)
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ireallyliketalldarksultrymen · 10 months ago
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WRITING MASTERPOST
i saw a couple of these and decided to make this with my fics! (updates whenever i post one onto ao3)
SPIES ARE FOREVER
the room, it echoes clear (with words we choose not to hear - tatiana-centric angst
MCYT
get soaked in the rain and smile through the pain - mumpearl slow dancing
when you look at me, it’s if the rest of the world doesn’t matter - martyn-centric angst, contains treebark, zombiewood, and majorwood; multi-chapter (3/8)
take me by the hand (place it on your heart) - wild life creakblings (scott + bigb)
for the heart of it - secret life shadowmoon
dripping in gold - zombiewood fluff
rose-gold painted nails - lizzie painting mumbos nails
oh, cassiopeia, let your stars collide - redstone snap stargazing
that warmth an evening brings - zombiedogwood fluff
wait, you can see me? (ah, so it talks!) - dapper duo halloween fic; mumbo accidentally summons a spirit in a graveyard
i’ve got two left feet, so i just smile politely - mumpearl slow dancing
i’ve got kisses to soothe your soul - scottpulse fluff
i will ruin you (i’ve sworn by it) - post desert duo cacti ring, grian beating up scars corpse, set in third life
worth it - impdarity fluff, them spending the weekend hiking together
kiss them, you fool - lil drabble of treebarkb in a d&d au, martyn-centric
the sound of your own thoughts are what keep you up at night - zombiesymmetry hurt/comfort. cleo-centric, set during hermitcraft 10
steady, steady, you know when you’re ready - skizzscottpulse ice skating together, sorta modern au
‘cause all i’ve ever wanted is here - poly mounders eating breakfast together, set during secret life
slow dance under stormy skies - empires flower husbands slow dance in the rain
you take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me - treebark hadestown au (ft ethubs and scar)
the last thing i want is to look like a fool - scottpulse hurt/comfort, set in secret life
sometimes all you can do is say goodnight (and tuck your demons into bed) - multi-chapter; set in limited life, pearl getting nightmares about the end of double life (ft. watcher lore)
among the wildflowers and the lilies sleeping by the way - third life flower husbands angst, scott missing his days with jimmy before he became a red life 
in the darkness and the howling, i’ve caused his drowning - an in-depth version of the treebark decapitation scene 
i love it when you look my way - flower husbands fluff, jimmy making a flower crown for scott in third life 
he wants me (to be loved) - ethubs hanahaki, set in last life; bdubs-centric
why don’t you sit right down and stay and make me smile? - gempearl on a picnic date 
it’s daunting to explore, but i want more - false joining last life 
we creep up on extinction - cleo-centric, hurt/comfort, set in secret life
kiss your fingers forevermore - femslash treebark fluff, set in third life 
meet the kids - martyn + clockers family dinner, zombiewood, set in limited life 
DOCTOR WHO
they’re right outside the door (and they don’t know) - tenrose + donna in a weeping angels situation, rose-centric
THE GLASS SCIENTISTS/J&H
“Oh, captain, let’s make a deal!” - jekyon mer au, multi-chapter
Suddenly Uncontrolled (Something is Taking Hold) - transformation scene for the jekyll and hyde musical, verryyyy old)
MY OCS
‘cause i’m six feet under nearly (and i don’t have anyone) - zombie apocalypse au
all these years without you (and your voice is still a symphony) - a crackfic filled with angst about sentient instruments that fall in love sometimes 
Adieu, My First and Last Love(s) - a songfic with its plot told by mitski songs, multi-chapter
SWEENEY TODD
Macabre - Swenett (one-sided, sweeney and mrs lovette sharing a dance after the former discovering the identity of the beggar woman; VERY old)
MISCELLANEOUS
It’s Like Slang…From England - crackship with some many fandoms that ive lost count of (fem johnlock helping regina george solve a murder mystery)
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musky-potato · 6 months ago
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Brain rotting about my Ignatius!Roksoo ><
Tw: it's just rants so ofc there'd be grammar mistakes
Like let's make his chara so on brand and not that different from how he acts in lcf. Like for example, instead of threatening harm to Ignatius!Roksoo, this universe's Claude was just stressing on how to keep him alive since he was a baby (or toddler age) cuz the kid keeps coughing up bl*od for some bizarre reasons!!
That, and adding to the fact that his mana circuit is messed up too! Like one could even say that the fact that Claude manage to keep him alive until he's 14 y.o (my fic's present timeline) is a miracle itself....
Every punishment given would definitely include Ignatius!Roksoo going out somewhere (where Claude is aware of or could see, obv) cuz him being grounded to stay in his palace would definitely not work. It'd only result in the opposite of what Claude wanted, cuz Ignatius!Roksoo would definitely LOVE love that punishment and doesn't think of repenting!
Hell, if they let him go his way, he'd spend the whole punishment period SLEEPING or ol' plain laze around with only cookies and tea to keep him going before going back to sleep/lying down again...
Then he'd fall sick... Which resulting in Claude to be stressed out even MORE!
At times, Claude would ask Ignatius!Roksoo to sit at his office as he works on his paperwork while Ignatius!Roksoo reads his book aloud (read: a little above whispering, but not that small. Just enough.) (also, he'd never admit it to anyone but Claude found his voice soothing, that, and he just wants to piss Ignatius!Roksoo off with making the prince to exceed the amount of words he'd say in a day since he wasn't really a chatterbox to begin with).
Another thing Claude would do to piss him off was to lie his head down on Ignatius!Roksoo's lap even though he clearly knew it'd annoy him (Ignatius thought that he's heavy! And he can't move freely this way!) At first he did that when Ignatius!Roksoo was quietly sulking and doesn't want to talk to him (but still polite enough to heed to his summon. This happened when at least Claude never showed a hostile side to him anymore) so Claude was like, fine, have it your way, before nonchalantly walked to his seat, surprising Ignatius, before lying down on there. His head placed on the little prince's lap. All while the prince was like >:O mentally ofc, cuz his outward look was just painfully blank and indifferent.
How does Claude know he succeed on pissing him off if we are to base it on that indifferent mask the Lil prince worn you ask? It comes with the experience. You'll never know until you've experienced it yourself.
Anyways, any other day where Ignatius feel a lil s*icidal, he'd have instantly shove the emperor off, but then again, being alive is the best so at the time, the best thing he can do is to sigh in exasperation before gently patting the head before later distracted with the thought of the children from his life as a Henituse. Letting the emperor to his lil nap as Ignatius!Roksoo fiddle with the locks of his hair.
Meanwhile Claude is just there, pretending to sleep with his eyes closed, surprised cuz he doesn't expect the baby prince to be this gentle disrespectful cuz how dare he touch the emperor's head! But hey! It kinda feels good?? And somehow nostalgic?? Cuz it reminds him of Diana and like, wait, now he's melancholic cuz wow, it's true that the lil prince also inherited some part of his mother's personality.. something that he's not aware of since everyone including him thought that Ignatius looks and acts so much like the emperor in the past when he was a child, albeit maybe quieter and indifferent. And none of them really find a resemblance of Diana within him, so know that he knows, he's feeling conflicted.
AAAANNNDD now I'm sad... I'm not supposed to be sad... WHERE'S THAT HAPPY VIBE HAS GONE TO😭
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askchildhoodwonders · 10 months ago
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Naptime by @creamytwistedbeauty // @askwillyswonderland
✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚
Willy had been in a bad mood since this morning and he wasn’t feeling like his usual, playful self. He had been throwing tantrums, foot stomping and fussing, the crew were trying their best to figure out what was upsetting him, either he was still regressing or he was overwhelmed.
✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚
“Willy, dear… I’m unsure where this behavior came from, but you need to calm down.. you’ve been like this since this morning..” Arty was holding Willy’s paws gently, trying to get him to calm down as he gave him head scratches with his free hand since they would normally do the trick when it came to getting Willy to calm down. “My, I’ll admit you’re adorable when you’re fussy, but not when you’re throwing tantrums or acting like… that…” The regressed weasel just huffed and looked up at Arty, he was whining softly and he didn’t even have his soothers of choice to calm him down. “No..!!” Willy was whining and pouting, refusing to talk about what was making him upset or what got him all frustrated since he was quite sensitive when regressed. “Creo que puedo intentar ayudarlo si tu mecanismo normal de afrontamiento no funciona. // I think I can try helping him out if your normal coping mechanism isn’t working..” Tito slowly and quietly helped Willy out of Arty’s arms, trying to think of his own way to calm his best friend after all, he would also regress with him and would even help take care of him. “¿Quieres dibujar en un libro para colorear o alto así? // Do you want to draw in a coloring book or something?” Willy gave a slight nod, coloring was one of his favorite activities when regressing. “Yes…. Sibby…” Sibby was the name Willy would call Tito since, he would age regress alongside with him. “Well then, have fun you two..” Arty gave Willy a box of color pencils and coloring books, specifically the ones that were for babies or toddlers, since Willy was very specific about what coloring books he liked best and would throw a fit of either screaming and/or crying if anyone got it wrong or if he was given coloring books for “big kids”, even if it was unintentional. After a few minutes of coloring (which was basically just Willy scribbling on the pages outside the lines and whining about his least favorite coloring pages), Tito noticed that Willy was sleeping and using the coloring book as a makeshift blanket with his thumb in his mouth with a little drool coming out. “¿Willy..? Parece que solo tenías sueño… // Willy..? It’s that you were just sleepy…” Tito caressed Willy, gently though tightly, making sure not to wake him up, knowing that the lil weasel would throw a tantrum that consisted of crying and kicking if he was awoken abruptly or if he was awoken at the wrong time. Tito helped Willy out of his overalls, and put him into his lil jammies, and gave him in a blanket along with a random stuffie and helped a pacifier into his mouth after wiping the spit off his face before putting him in a comfy little bed, specifically the ones made for toddlers since he would just curl up. Surprisingly, Willy didn’t wake up throughout being changed, albeit did make little fussy noises or whines, Tito was glad the weasel didn’t wake up or throw a tantrum about that. “Buenas noches, pequeña comadreta...//Goodnight, little weasel…” It seemed that Willy was just sleepy, when regressed he didn’t use his words and just pouted or whined about it. “Is he okay, Tito?” Cammy gently brushed her hand against Willy’s fur, something that soothed him even when he was napping. “Está bien, solo estaba cansado.//He’s okay, he was just tired..” That was until the inevitable happened, Willy squirmed awake, stuffy in his grasp, he was a lil tired as the pacifier dropped out of his mouth and onto the bed. “Mama..? Lonely..“ Cammy gently shushed him and held Willy close to her chest as a mother would a child, he snuggled up into her warm, loving embrace, feeling soothed before Cammy got into bed with him, allowing him to snuggle with her..
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trickstarbrave · 2 years ago
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Honestly in the second vivi au (where Steren ends up in vivi’s universe early on in his journey) I think it’s even. Worse for Nerevar and Voryn.
In the first one they meet him and they’re like “????” Concerned about him but trying to awkwardly bond before they get their memories.
In the second one Azura is like “hortator. You and your husband had a child in another world. He had to fulfill the prophecy. He was trying to kill himself so I brought him here.” And they’re a normal level of concerned like “we had a kid???? He wanted to die???? Where is he????” And Azura said she tried to bring him somewhere closer but there was some strange interference and so he’s still on Tamriel just further and to give her time to find him but in the mean time Steren’s parents’ souls will enter them and they’ll gain their memories.
And at first it’s anxiety inducing wondering what he’s like and if he’ll be okay. Telling the guards and people across Morrowind his general features to look for. They’re worried but functional.
And then the memories start flooding back and this is no longer a hypothetical.
Voryn remembers first and he’s inconsolable. His baby—he tried to kill his baby! Their baby! His baby that now wanted to end his own life just to be loved by them but now he’s lost and alone in the world again. What if he tries to kill himself this time?! What if he’s hurt?! Voryn can’t even hold him and know his little star is finally back in his arms and safe because his baby is MISSING
And Nerevar is trying to comfort Voryn and reassure him as he goes through the grief of missing out on their son’s life when he starts to remember too. Little things at first. A slightly different body he had in that world. The night Steren was conceived. How badly he wanted a family of his own—a family with the man he loved. How anxious he was while pregnant and how much he cried knowing he couldn’t keep his little baby. How he couldn’t even name Steren without knowing he’d need to bring him back with him and knowing that if he did Steren wouldn’t be safe there. Remembering sleepless nights not coping well post-partum because all he wants to do is see his son and bond with him and kiss his lil head. Showing up to Kogoruhn in the dead of night just to lay in Voryn’s bed beside Steren’s cradle finally getting to sleep knowing he was right by his son.
And then dying at red mountain. Haunting him. Watching him grow up alienated and alone. Not knowing who his parents were. Not knowing he was Nerevar’s and how much Nerevar loved him. Seeing him get married but still chafing his past and dying from it. Seeing Steren born again and knowing at his core this was his son again, his baby, and not getting to hold him and comfort him. When he cried as an infant not being able to rock him and soothe him or feed him. Not being able to change him or teach him to read or have him ride on his shoulders again.
Having to watch him be arrested and shipped off to Morrowind. Fearing for him. Now memories of this reality and the other one blur as with dread he realizes Steren is stuck fulfilling the prophecy. Getting corprus. Uniting the great houses. Only getting to talk to him once he gets the ring and being unsure if he should tell him everything. Finally confessing as Steren gets his own memories back but not even getting to hold his crying son properly.
Nerevar’s come slower in bits and pieces, a lot while he’s asleep, some while he’s trying to work and quickly he becomes non-functional. There’s too much. Too much grief. Voryn can barely keep it together trying to suppress the grief but Nerevar has lifetimes worth of it and things in that world were so similar yet so different. Sometimes his body feels wrong and he has to bite that instinct back. Sometimes he tries to work and remembers watching helplessly as Steren died in his son’s first lifetime and breaking down sobbing. Voryn had to start using his powers to make him rest or he won’t sleep at all.
When Azura tells them in a panic that vivec has him in Morrowind they are RUNNING. Furiously preparing to depart. Skyrim and the empire try to deny them entry when Nerevar sends word and he tells him “my son is there and if you try to keep me from finding him I will show you just how I drove the Nords out of Resdayn”
They’re so relieved Azura found him. So distraught that he might not be safe. Sometimes they’re both too anxious to sleep. They’re both angry and in grief no one else around them can really understand. Luckily they have each other but they want Steren. They want to see their little boy happy and safe again
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edgeworthsdumbpinkpajamas · 2 years ago
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The Izzy Hands Is Autistic PowerPoint Essay
(this is the essay i submitted to the above all else zine (@izzyhandszines ), the exclusivity period of which just ended. enjoy!!)
Hello!!
I would like to start off by saying I’m absolutely fucking terrified to write this essay for a variety of reasons. But I want to express my love of Izzy Hands and how important he is to me, and the best way I’ve found to do so is to express the weird ways I relate to him as an autistic person. I’ve joked in a couple friend circles that I was going to make a PowerPoint presentation about why Izzy’s autistic (hence the title) but I decided to write an essay instead.
Disclaimer: I’m not diagnosing anyone, nor do I want this essay to be used as a diagnostic paper. This is by no means an academic paper, it cites exactly one (1) study, it’s based on my own experiences, light research, and the experiences of my fellow autistic friends. I’m just a dumbass who likes imprinting themselves onto the characters they hyperfixate on.
Reason one why I think Izzy is autistic: because I’m autistic and I said so. *cue end credits*
I’m kidding.
The real first reason comes from Izzy’s interactions with Stede FUKIN’ Bonnet. For one, Stede hates Izzy almost the second he meets him. Now, you could argue that it was because Izzy “stole” his hostages but we’ll set that aside for a sec. It’s been proven that people inherently don’t like autistic people if they don’t realize they’re autistic (Neurotypical Peers are Less Willing to Interact with Those with Autism Based on Thin Slice Judgements by Noah J. Sasson (2017)). Traits that are often put towards “untrustworthy” or “creepy” people tend to describe autistics too. It’s entirely possible Stede caught a vibe and hated Izzy because of it. Stede is kind of an asshole after all (and we still love him for it). Another reason is Stede’s entire existence throws a wrench in Izzy’s routines as a First Mate. He whisks Edward away to do pirate-y things while Izzy is left to deal with a crew who frankly want nothing to do with him because he’s introducing structure on a ship that didn’t have any to begin with. Sure Izzy came off as an asshole (emotional regulation is a bitch) but he’s just a lil guy trying to follow his routines so nobody dies. He has the worst case of sense of justice. He’ll complain that an ambush is “unprofessional”, he’ll play fair in a duel even if it’s to his detriment, he’ll chase Edward around asking for a plan because Bad Things happen without a plan, the list goes on.
I’d like to dedicate this section to his stimming/eye contact/other little habits that make me think he’s autistic. Izzy has a tendency to touch his face when he’s stressed. Not just that, he’ll wrap an arm around himself and rest his hand on his chin so he can fidget with his beard, as if to self soothe. When he’s talking to people, unless he’s threatening them or yelling at them, he doesn’t look them in the eye. Often he’s not even facing them. When he is facing them, he often looks down at their lips, as if he’s struggling with eye contact. He walks around with his hand resting on his sword either because he’s short and the sword will touch the ground if he doesn’t or because it’s more comfortable for him to have his arm up near his chest. This is often referred to as T-rex arms and a lot of us find it more comfortable than letting our arms rest at our sides. He’s a little pyromaniac, he seems to use candle fire to soothe himself. He’s done it at least twice, once while he was lying to Edward about Stede’s response to meeting Blackbeard and once while talking to Spanish Jackie about Stede in her bar. He sleeps in his underwear like a WHORE (affectionate) which could be argued is temperature regulation because a lot of autistics (myself included) H A T E being overheated. Then there’s the ooh daddy scene. From my little list I made prior to this essay, “ooh daddy scene (thank u conbert), yes i have an explainiation for this. a weird ass intimidation tactic? sure. however what if he can’t read social queues and doesn’t fully realize how fucking weird it was to do that”.
Then there’s his glove. I could dedicate an entire essay on speculation on that fucking glove. Is it hiding something? Is it just to look cool? Is it a sensory thing where he doesn’t like the texture of his sword so he wears the glove to make sword fighting easier? We may never know. Or we might in s2 who knows. Speaking of sword fighting it could be argued by me that because Izzy is supposed to be the best swordsman in the world, sword fighting could be his special interest. He probably spent hours perfecting every move until he got to the level of carving his name into a man’s shirt without leaving a single scratch on him.
We’ve seen Izzy have at least one meltdown re: the duel. He’s losing the duel, the crew are jeering at him, Stede isn’t helping, he finally screams at him before his sword breaks. We’ve also seen him have a shutdown where after Edward goes below deck after realizing his plan against the Spanish isn’t going to work because it’s a leap year, Izzy is in the foreground of Frenchie and Lucius staring off into space. It’s possible that after everything he went through that day and the realization that he’s going to die made him completely shut down.
I have no proof of this since we never really see izzy by himself but I don’t believe in the entire time Izzy has been subjected to the constant torture of being alive and autistic in the late 1600 early 1700s he has unmasked even once. When living in such close quarters with other people and being First Mate to the physical embodiment of ADHD he probably doesn’t get a lot of time to himself. Therefore he has to cope with his existence in other ways, as mentioned above. And the crew of The Revenge have ruined almost every way he uses to cope and manage his autism. We’ll have to wait and see what other horrors unfold for this poor little autistic man, but for now all we can do is pick him apart and see what’s under the hood.
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