#this is what 2 years of hyperfixation will do to a person

[kami-kun1003]

TWST fic writers stop reducing Silver’s entire personality to just “sleepy boy who falls asleep all the time and is sooooo sleepy and tired and did i mention he sleeps a lot and also he loves his dad” challenge (impossible) (gone wrong)

[obstinaterixatrix]

air was like ‘if someone I hated looked like a character I’d like I’d just stop liking the character’ & I was like ‘if someone I hated looked like a character I like I would shave their head. I have so little in this world. they’re not taking that from me.’ & air was like ‘well you’re always talking about how you just stop caring about things’ & I’m like. this is different. I Know What I’m About.

[maeflower]

once every few months my brain will throw an imaginary dart at the roulette wheel of my past hyperfixations and i'll have no choice but to be obsessed again with whatever got chosen for the next few weeks. this time, it's one piece :(

[pollyanna-nana]

Louie isn’t evil.

Or: what Pikmin 4 tells us about his character.

BIG WARNING FOR PIKMIN 4 SPOILERS! (and the rest of the series)

———

I want to preface this by saying that I am in no way trying to be the end-all, be-all of character interpretations, but Pikmin 4 to me, at least, confirms the suspicions I’ve had since playing Pikmin 2 and 3 all those years ago that Louie ISN’T secretly evil, or possessed, or whatever else. He’s just… Louie. And I think that’s interesting in and of itself.

1. Olimar himself vouches for him, and clearly doesn’t think he’s a bad person.

Say what you will, but I’m inclined to think Olimar is a decent judge of character. Clearly he’s worked with Louie for enough time to see that while he’s not very good at his job, he’s not intentionally so— at least not in a malevolent way (will get more into this later). He also wants you to forgive him for Olimar’s sake, which can be read as self-sacrificing (as Olimar is known to be) but I also think hints at the soft spot he has for Louie.

It's also worth noting that he states during a end-of-day conversation that he told Louie that, since he's a new employee, he should do everything Olimar does... including throw castaways into the onion. Interesting that Louie took this so literally, but it does provide an explanation for why he kidnapped the Koppaites beyond "he's evil and crazy".

2. He really, REALLY loves his grandma.

Like, wow. He talks about her SO MUCH both in his Piklopedia entries and also elsewhere in the game. It's interesting. Worth noting is that he never mentions any other family members- unlike Olimar, who talks about his wife and each of his children independently. I've said this before, but the content of a lot of these entries implies to me that Louie was mainly raised by his grandma, likely since birth. And given some of her emails in Pikmin 2, assuming they're also canon to Pikmin 4's timeline... Well, Louie certainly had an interesting upbringing. But he clearly loves her all the same.

3. He has a mischievous streak and tends to do things on impulse.

This was already fairly obvious from the previous games, but I think it's worth noting that this game confirms that he's... would immature be the right word? In any regard, he doesn't seem to see himself as a "grown-up"- when in all likelihood he is. Personally, as a 22-year-old, I find that pretty relatable as I often think of myself as younger when in reality I am by all definitions an adult. This, along with his grandma still being around, makes it pretty much certain that Louie is a lot younger than Olimar and the president, likely in his early to mid twenties. Being a bit of a goofball isn't really out of the ordinary, all things considered.

THAT BEING SAID, he's clearly capable of practicing self-restraint when he wants to. What he says here about the red Pikmin is pretty significant, since we know he's willing to eat just about anything- but clearly he has some reservations about creatures that are friendly and helpful. Which leads to...

4. He loves dogs and fluffy things.

Same. But he doesn't even consider eating Moss, Oatchi or the Ancient Sirehound, showing that his creature-eating habits stop at things he recognizes as useful. He clearly also holds affection for things that are soft and fuzzy, and says as much.

5. He is so autism.

He plays with fidget toys. He loves certain textures and sounds. This guy is stimming all over PNF-404!!! I think this also lends some explanation for why his behavior is what it is- things like taking Olimar's suggestion to do as he does super literally even after crashing on an alien planet, his hyperfixation on cooking and tendency not to communicate and incorrectly interpret situations (thinking the Koppaites are kidnappers in 3, running away from you in 4). He could even be low or no empathy as well, explaining why it takes a hot minute to get him to understand why people are upset with him about something.

Interestingly this game also makes it clear that Louie wants to live on the planet, or at least thought he did while you were chasing him down, which makes a lot of sense when you consider that he doesn't really seem to fit in back on Hocotate. I, too, wish to run away to an alien world with all of the things that I like and no other people, so I get you, Louie.

6. He hates his boss and his job, and the golden pikpik carrot incident was likely premeditated.

This probably looks bad, but honestly? As a fellow work-hating anti-capitalist schmuck I get it. The president is for all intents and purposes a huge asshole, from sending Olimar straight back to the planet after selling his ship to not caring that Louie got left behind, just wanting to find the rest of the treasures. I doubt he is very kind to his employees, and doesn't seem very good at running the business. Definitely a funny character, but if he were my boss I would absolutely want to punt him into the sun.

From some other entries he clearly wants to sell certain things to accrue money, but it's for things like getting better kitchen tools and following his dream to have his own cooking show. Clearly being a freight driver isn't what Louie actually wants to do with his life, and he could not give less of a shit about what happens to the company. Very short-sighted on his part, but also again, yeah I get you Louie.

7. He... doesn't like the color red for some reason.

Honestly, I'm not even really sure what to make of this. Is it because it reminds him of the Hocotate ship? Or does he just not like the color? Would be very interesting considering that it's Olimar's signature color. Perhaps that's at least part of why he attacks you in Pikmin 2- though that's speculation for another day.

Also funny to me is his comments on the black-colored treasures. We know blue is his favorite color, but I guess he's also a bit of a goth at heart. Lol.

In conclusion.

I think Louie isn't written or intended to be evil, and Pikmin 4's portrayal of him was intentionally written to confirm this. He's just, as some have said, an agent of chaos, but that doesn't make him a bad person. Just an autistic 20-something working a shitty job he doesn't care about, who loves his grandma and has a mischievous streak and a hyperfixation on food. At least from what I can interpret, ymmv!

[meowufff]

This is my first actual post on Tumblr ever so pls bear with me. Also, English is not my first language so pls excuse any mistakes I make :)

So, this whole thing here started just as a joke bc I was curious if anyone else was feeling constantly tired all day no matter how long I sleep. But it all somehow escalated a bit and I may have started hyperfixating on it so well, now it actually became a little survey.

I also wanted to mention that I only asked the artist in my little Tumblr bubble, which is mostly tmnt content, so my results are mostly referring to tmnt artists.

In total, I asked 143 people if they could remember the last time they woke up and just felt actually rested for more than half of the day.

I probably could have been more specific with my question but again, I did not actually planned to let it become so big. Personally, for me being rested means, having a clear head, no headache or foggy mind without consuming any caffeine.

So out of 143 people, 100 answered me and I tried my best to sort all of the answers after the criteria “good-sleep-schedule” and “bad-sleep-schedule” and also noted when exactly they last felt actually rested into either the last days, weeks, months, years or “???” when they couldn’t remember or didn’t mention anything specific.

And let’s just say… it does not really look good. Out of 100 people, only 18 have an actual good sleep schedule. Out of these 18 people, 13 felt really rested in the last days, 2 in the last weeks, only one person in the last months and 2 in the last years.

Out of the 82 of people who have a bad sleep schedule, 10% lastly felt rested in the last days, 11% in the last weeks, 11% in the last months, 30% in the last years, and 38% couldn’t remember or didn’t specify it.

While reading all your answers I came to realize being sleep deprived is not just bc any of them thought “Oh it would be really neat to stay up till 4 am!” or smth like that.

A lot of the artists who answered me mentioned that they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep due to stuff like insomnia, chronic pain, other issues, or children (yeah, ok, there was just one who had a child but still).

While analyzing I mostly referred the situations to my own experience with going to sleep or rather not going to sleep...

I usually don’t have problems falling asleep but trouble actually putting my stuff away and going to bed bc I don’t want to end the day or just don’t want to go to sleep (don’t ask why, I have no idea why I am like this). While having these “episodes” I often doodle smth, binge reading some fanfics, or watch whatever I can find on the internet until I’m just falling asleep or can convince myself that it is 3 am and I really should go to bed now.

So, my personal theory about why sleep deprivation is so common among Tumblr artists is not bc they do art all night. My theory is that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep due to insomnia, pain, or other issues are filling the time until they hopefully fall asleep with their art, doodles, writings, or whatever their creative minds can bring up, to help the time pass.

In total that would mean that not all artists are sleep deprived but more that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep do a lot of art or creative stuff in general.

Something I could also imagine is, that if they start doing art while waiting for sleep, they start to concentrate a lot on creating more and start procrastinating sleep even if they actually get tired bc they wanna do art and fuck up their non-existing sleep schedule even more but that could also just be me projecting here.

I know that is probably no kind of big revelation but for me it was kind of surprising to see how many people here are as sleep deprived as me and due to what reasons.

I’m not going to preach to any of you to get that problem solved or smth, I have no right to tell you what to do and would be a major hypocrite so instead I really which everyone to get some kind of good sleep schedule one day and the joy of waking up and feeling completely rested at least thrice per week.

I absolutely love all your art and thank you a thousand times for helping me with this spontaneous survey!

I would love to hear your opinions on my theory and conclusion so pls don’t be shy and feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made or tell me your own theories :D

Also, if my question is still sitting in your inbox, feel free to answer! I’m gonna keep ma big ass excel table so I can edit all the results anytime. And maybe, one day, I'm gonna continue this survey and go into more detail but for now I need to leave it like this.

Ok, that's all I got

BYE!

Thanks to all participants

@abbeyofcyn @angelpuns @beannary @bulbabutt @camilieroart @cementgeek @cheesyescapade @cokowiii @easterartist @frosteaart @gemini-forest @happyfoxx-art @heckitall @hellishgayliath @holy-sweetsour-milk @icepopcider @idiot-mushroom @iscreamkitty @kovalitics @laseralligator @lieutenantbiscute @matchstique @mightyanxiety @miiukkaa @mr-doodles @pezhead @probably-not-a-rutabaga @pumpkster @sad-leon @sassatello @sewercrocodileart @sheep-turtles-and-pizza @signanothername @spectra-bear @stephuart @tangledinink @tapakah0 @tasenwiththerobots @tblsomedoodles @thegunnsara @triona-tribblescore @turrondeluxe @valen-timez @vangh17a @wraenata @zinovi768 @debb987 @dianagj-art @goatedgreen @indieyuugure

[hansoeii]

Several things: -LOVE your art, it’s amazing! Especially the one with Crowley and Aziraphale under the umbrella - which software do you use? Your art always look SO gorgeous (cheeky quote from GO right there lol) - how did you get so good at drawing?And thank you for encouraging other people to keep drawing and being so kind as I sometimes can’t help but compare my sketches to others and feel silly, but I guess it’s just a learning curve… Thank you so much for bringing your art to the world!😊

Thank you so much!!

I use Clip Studio Paint for drawing and Photoshop for small adjustments!

2. Haha thanks! Honestly...it's the hyperfixations. I managed to improve a lot in just a year because I've been drawing SO much cos there's so many shows and movies I became obsessed with that I wanted to create art for. So by drawing a lot I just naturally improved. For example these two Illustrations are just a year apart:

I actually didn't actively try to improve, it's been a while since I did proper studies (I just don't really have the time for it between freelancing and art school), it just happened.

But I can absoluetly recommend going on YouTube and look for some art tutorials if you actively want to start improving! There's some channels that helped me so much back then:

moderndayjames

Incredible shape language and super insightful tutorials on all kinds of topics! I learned so much from him.

Ahmed Aldoori

So many awesome tutorials on so many different areas of art. Love it.

Marco Bucci

Incredible tutorials on color theory and understanding how color works in general! Learned SO much from him!

Sinix Design

The OG tutorials I began learning from. I watched his videos religiously as a teen. I adore his painterly style and adopted it in some way, haha.

Ethan Becker

This dude sometimes drops these tiny art tips that just completely blow my mind and that I adopt immedietly. He's super entertaining but also such a great teacher.

And I can also recommend checking out this book by James Gurney if you want to get better at colors!

And for anatomy I highly recommend the Morpho books!

But improvement doesn't only come from drawing a lot. A lot of the time I don't draw for a while and just study the world and artists around me and suddenly I improved when I get back to drawing. Don't ever overwork yourself to the point that you don't enjoy what you do anymore. Take breaks and listen to your body!

I learned to try and not compare myself to other artists, which helped a lot. Through conventions and social media I made so many lovely artist friends and realized how we're all struggling in a very similar way. A lot of us don't even really know what we're doing most of the time, haha. But we help each other out, it's such a wonderful community. I think when you're not actively part of the community it tends to feel like other, more successful artists are some kind of art gods that have perfected the craft and never struggle. But believe me, all the artists you admire go through rough times all. the. time. Sometimes what they do feels easy and natural, other times (more often than not) it feels like you have to try and learn how to walk all over again and you start to doubt your abilities. I personally go through that so many times.

So what I'm trying to say is that instead of comparing yourself to the artists you admire, learn from them instead. Ask questions, befriend fellow artists, study the artists you enjoy and just have fun with it!

And finally I thought it would be fun to share some of my horrendous Johnlock fanart from a decade ago for some motivation:

I hope my answer didn't overwhelm you, but I thoight it would be nice to give a more detailed answer!

Have a wonderful day and keep drawing! :)

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I’ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

[softgreengrass]

Sun to Me

Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: Wednesday isn't a great girlfriend.

Words: 2.0k

Warnings: none, implied f!reader, reader referred to as girlfriend

Author's Note: angst sorry not sorry. inspired by sun to me by zach bryan,, first fic i've published so any feedback is appreciated!

Pt. 2

When you first met Wednesday, you were absolutely terrified of her. But she had taken an interest in you, from the very beginning, and soon you found yourself laughing at her morbid jokes and thinking about her every night before you fell asleep.

Wednesday would never admit it, but when she couldn’t sleep, her mind would wander to far-off places. She saw your smile, your hand in hers, and she saw a love like her parents had. 

Now, half a year later, you feel like you know more about Wednesday than you ever wanted to. You know every last quirk, every microexpression she lets grace her face. You know exactly the way she lights up when she sees you, even if to others it looks like a regular glare. Wednesday lets you sleep in her bed; she lets you braid her hair; she lets you lounge about during her writing time. It’s normal stuff, but it isn’t, because it’s Wednesday. Hell, seeing her smile is rarer than Halley’s Comet, let alone getting into her personal space.

Wednesday doesn’t know why she’s so enthralled by you, but she is. You’re patient with her, even when you probably shouldn’t be, and you jump at the chance to take care of her. It feels good.

“Thank god that’s over,” you say, flopping face-down onto her bed. Thing jumps out from under the covers, scurrying away.

The history exam you’ve just completed was the last one on your schedule — you’re free. For a week of break, anyways. Wednesday had helped you study for it (you flipped through a textbook while she rattled off every piece of evidence she had collected for her newest investigation).

“How did it go?” she asks, standing up from her chair and popping a piece of black licorice into her mouth.

“Bad,” you say, voice muffled. “But it’s over.”

She hums.

“How were yours?” You roll over, watching as she walks over to the bulletin board pinned full of documents and sticky notes.

“Unchallenging.”

That was Wednesday. Always too smart for her own good. “What do you want to do tonight? No homework,” you grin.

“I need to go to Jericho High School,” she says plainly, staring at the board.

Your face falls, even though at this point it shouldn’t. It’s a common occurrence: Wednesday too caught up in her hyperfixation to make time for you or your feelings. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore. You swallow, making sure your voice stays level. “What are you gonna find there?”

She looks over her shoulder, eyes flashing annoyance. “I don’t know. That’s the point of going.”

Right.

The thing is, you can’t blame her. She told you, again and again, that you shouldn’t devote your time or energy to her. For the first few weeks of your relationship, she was a broken record: “this is a bad idea,” “you shouldn’t care about me,” “you’d be better off alone.” You, enamored with her jet-black hair and the dusting of freckles across her nose, had taken it as a challenge.

More and more, you found yourself regretting that.

Then Wednesday says your name, tentatively, and your gaze snaps to her.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, the words unnatural in her stony voice. “Was that insensitive?”

You shake your head, putting on a smile. You’re still Wednesday Addams’ girlfriend. You get her heart, at the end of the day. “It’s okay.”

“I’m hoping to find something that points me to the culprit.”

You nod, wishing for her to just drop it. You’d rather move on, figure out plans with one of your friends instead.

“Would you like to do something tomorrow?” Her eyes are hesitant, but genuine, and just like that your heart melts again.

“There’s an art gallery opening a couple towns over,” you blurt, too excited to let this opportunity pass. “We could… drive over and see it?”

She’s turned back to the board. “How long would that take?”

You ignore the slight sting in your heart. “I don’t know, it depends on how long we spend there. We could make a whole day out of it.”

“I told Eugene I’d help him prepare the hives for the next harvest,” she says blankly. “That won’t work.”

It kills you that she can’t concentrate on you for more than a few seconds at a time. Especially since you know that if you were to ignore her in the same way, even just for an hour, she would shut down and close herself off. “Can you at least look at me?”

There’s emotion bubbling up inside of you, emotion that you don’t want to express right now, but she’s facing you.

“I’m working on being more delicate, you know that,” Wednesday says, her voice tight. You know her defenses are up.

“It’s not that,” you scoff, blinking back stubborn tears. “You never try. Do you know how many things I’ve compromised on for you?”

Her eyes flick around the room, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“The movies, for one,” you say, shuddering at the thought of the true-crime documentaries you’re plagued to watch nearly every night. “The no-touching. The no-compliments. The not-telling-anyone-about-us?”

“You agreed to all of that.”

“Exactly!” you cry. “That’s my point! What have you agreed to?”

Wednesday hates the feeling creeping up her chest. The burning feeling in her throat, the cold dread in the pit of her stomach. That she’s hurting someone she cares about without even realizing it. Again. She wants desperately to make it right, to understand exactly what you want her to do, but the moment you raise your voice, her reflexes kick in. 

“I agreed to being your girlfriend!” she says, louder than she meant to.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. She isn’t even trying to understand. “That was that big of a sacrifice for you, huh?”

Wednesday licks her lips nervously, hating the look in your eyes, hating how hurt you are and how angry she is. Now, the thought of a relationship like her parents’ is distant and sickening. She can’t imagine having the patience to communicate with someone for so many years — all she can think about is how much easier it would be to do it all alone.

But then her eyes find yours, desperate and heartbroken and filled with tears, and she wants to tear her hair out.

“I’m not enough for you, I know that,” you say quietly, and Wednesday’s heart twists in a way it never has before. “But I… I just thought you would try.”

She calls your name, reaches out a hand, but you’ve already left her dorm. You rush down the hallway, hoping she leaves you alone and chases after you all at once. The tears are hot down your cheeks, and the lump in your throat just won’t leave. You had trusted Wednesday with your heart. You had given it to her, even though your mom knew and your best friend knew and you knew that you shouldn’t have.

Find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of you, your mom would say, whenever you asked her questions about love far too big for a six-year-old. She would tell you that your heart was a treasure, and that someday you’d find someone who bettered you in every single way.

You had known, you had always known that that wasn’t Wednesday. But she kissed you, she opened up to you, she looked at you in ways that said you were the most special person in the world. And for a while, you were. You were the only one who got to know Wednesday Addams. But you had invested too much, and she never changed: the same inexplicable mystery that had drawn you to her was now pulling you apart from the inside out. She wasn’t built for the kind of relationship that you needed, even if she could make your day just by meeting your eyes.

You find your way to your room through tear-blurred vision, thanking the stars above that your roommate had left early to spend break with her parents.

You collapse onto your bed, sobbing. You feel silly, stupid, used, thinking about every sacrifice you’ve made for her and how little she’s done in return. How unfair it is: she’s trying, you know she’s trying, but trying to Wednesday is the bare minimum to you, and you can’t change what you need.

You cry until your head pounds and your throat is raw, and even then you can’t stop picturing her dark eyes and scarce, golden smiles. You hear your mother’s voice in your head. Your heart clenches.

Eventually, you fall into a restless sleep, thoughts racing and palms sweating. You want more than anything to go to Wednesday’s room to rant about all of your emotions, knowing she’s only half-listening, and to persuade her to cuddle with you in bed, to hold her tight.

Nausea comes and goes in waves.

You don’t want to answer the knock at your door, except it comes from low down on the ground, and you’d never turn Thing away.

He’s holding an envelope between his second and third fingers.

An envelope, with your name scrawled across it in messy cursive. Thing drops it and takes a small bow, hurrying down the hall. You pick it up and shut the door with a sniff, wiping your nose. You’ve never been so grateful for deserted hallways.

You rip it open on your bed, entirely unprepared for the rush of emotion that hits you when you smell Wednesday’s typewriter ink.

I can’t say things to your face, but you need to know them, so I’ve decided to write them.  If I am a black dahlia, you are a sunflower. You are the sweetest of the sunflowers; you are the sun to me. I loathe myself for every moment I have spent upsetting you. I know that I am selfish, and that you are selfless, and that I hurt you even when I’m not trying to. Sorry isn’t enough of a word.

For my entire life, I believed love was nothing but a weakness to be exploited. I thought people like you, who love and give endlessly into this world, were oblivious to the reality of the world. But then I met you, and you cared for someone who least deserved it. The time of day was more than I deserved, and you gave me so much more than that. You have parted the clouds, you have brought sunlight into my life, you have brought me more joy and peace than I care to admit. And to repay you, I hurt you.

You are the sweetest of the sunflowers, and I will never again let myself forget it. I vow to do my utmost to provide you with everything you desire, if you allow me. I’m sorry, my love.

Wednesday nearly jumps when Thing returns, asking him how you looked and if you took the letter. She waits, bouncing her leg, tapping her fingers, thinking about why time travel hasn’t been invented yet. Her mouth is dry, her heart hammering against her ribs. She’s never been so anxious before.

 She barely remembers to smooth out her hair before answering the knock that eventually comes at her door.

“Hi,” you mumble, holding the letter in your hands.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“Do I get another chance?” she asks in a rush. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her this forward.

“I’m out of patience,” you say, and she nods quickly, blinking red-rimmed eyes.

A younger version of you would be reeling at the sight of such blatant emotion on her face.

“Can I hug you?”

Her eyebrows lift, eyes widening ever so slightly.

You can’t stand being mad at her.

Her arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close, her face buried into the crook of your neck. You take a deep breath.

[copingwithobsessions]

Billy is autistic ♾

Just me rambling about an headcanon I take wayyyy too seriously :)

Hyperfixation : horror movies (obviously)

He just keeps talking about it. All the time.

Like

Also him using his hands while talking in this scene

(There's also something to be said about him mentioning the queer actors and not the 'straight' characters but that will be for another post-)

Also in the phone call where we're sure it's him :

(If he was the one calling Casey then there's even more-)

Also him just constantly talking with movie-related things : "It was edited for TV- all the good stuff was cut out", "nice solid R rating, on our way to a NC-17", "lately we're just sort of edited for television", "Maybe your movie-freaked mind lost it's reality button","It's all a movie, it's all...one great big movie.Only you can't pick your genre","I think she wants a motive","I don't really believe in motive, Sid.", "See it's a lot scarier when there's no motive Sid", "Is that motive enough for you ?", "How's that for a motive ?", "Just pretend it's all a scary movie Sid...How do you think it's gonna end ?", "Perfect ending.", "Now Sid, don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos, movies make psychos more creative !" and basing his killing spree on horror movie tropes : phone calls, masked killer, virgins being the final girls (literally having sex with Sidney to fulfill the trope), 'no motive' etc...

2. Abnormal posture

3. Staring (last 2 photos, both scenes in Sidney's room, police station scene...basically when there's Sid) or excessive blinking (doorway scene, kitchen scene...(basically when there's Stu)

4. Plans and changements

Billy (and Stu) planned their entire killing spree (from the dates it would be on : surrounding the one year anniversary of Maureen's death, to the person they would frame and his supposed motive as well as Casey and Steve's murders with the phone call, the attack at Sidney's house, Billy's incarceration, Stu's phone call following it, Billy's fake death, kidnapping Neil before his flight and using his phone, hiding his car, using a voice changer, stabbing each other to seem like victims, the party etc...)

When Billy's (and Stu's) plans get changed (Dewey, Gale and Kenny being present, Sid escaping the kitchen with her dad and Stu losing too much blood), Billy panics and goes into what could be defined as a meldown : throwing out insults, walking in circles, never going to check on the first floor, destroying Stu's living room and just panicking all around-

(When he fails getting Sidney to trust him and makes her escape to the toilets, he punches himself in frustation)

5. Insociability

Basically doesn't talk in the fountain scene

Awkward and Unsettling while talking, even to his friends

Doesn't pay attention to girls being interested in him

Doesn't seem at ease with the number of people leaving the party

(Even fidgeting though that may be just be him checking that the people are leaving for real)

6. Overdramatic

7. Favorite person/people

Okay this one's not that common in autistics but for Billy, he definitely has a special person, two in fact :

He literally started killing because his mom "moved out and abandoned" him.

For Stu, I will be vague cause I'll talk about it in detail in the other post 👀but basically he's not really himself unless Stu's there and planned a killing spree where only they would survive (+ trusted him to stab him).

Bonus : If Billy is the one who called Casey

"I only eat popcorn at the movies" Well I'm getting ready to watch a video "Really what ?" Oh, just some scary movie "You like scary movies ?" Huhuh "What's your favorite scary movie ?" Hum- I don't know... "You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind ?" Hum...Halloween ! You know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters. "Yeah." What's yours ? "Guess." Hum- Nightmare on Elm Street ! "Isn't that the one where the guy had knives for fingers ?" Yeah, Freddy Krueger. "Freddy, that's right. I liked that movie.It was scary." Well the first one was but the rest sucked."

"It's an easy category : movie trivia"

"Come on, it's your favorite scary movie, remember ? He had a white mask, he stalked the babysitters"

"Then you should know Jason's mother, Mrs Vorhees, was the original killer ! Jason didn't show up until the sequel."

And that's it ! A complete analysis of what could be considered autistic traits from Billy that got way too long-

[stillfrownyclownlol]

@moonbiine got me with the Aiden bug

I thought a lot about how to start this and none of them were good so, here's this;

Frowny's Thesis on Aiden Clark having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) based on the DSM-5 criteria, living with people with BPD (hi dad!), being...me!, and general vibes.

What is BPD?

Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by a prolonged disturbance of function marked by depth and variability of mood, pattern of unstable personal relationships, unstable self-image, marked impulsivity, and other symptoms. They can manifest in very different ways (the way it appears between my dad and my grandma for example is not the same), but generally includes this.

1. Fear of Abandonment

Nobody wants to be left behind, that's a given, but for people with BPD this fear can spiral into a paranoid phobia that impacts all their personal relationships. Because BPD is influenced by environmental factors, this often stems from children being abandoned in their youth (ex. My father was the child of a teen pregnancy and his parents couldn't care for him for the first few years of his life, letting him be raised by his grandparents. I also grew up alternatively without my mom and withouty my dad, and once for a time with neither of them)

It's been shown to us before that Aiden's parents are often absent from the house, for even months at a time. He seems very used to this and it's likely he grew up very isolated or passed around between different relatives. And I do think this shows in his attachment style; he is a very clingy and sort of "decides" to hyperfixate on a certain person (Ash *coughs*) in the hopes that they'll become friends, and he does this very quickly. Already so scared of losing Ash on that roof even tho he's only known her for like 3 months at this point. He really can't bear the thought of her not being with him.

On the subject of Ash he's idolized her sooooo bad she's so screwed. Pls the Angelic lighting filter he puts on her?? SHE CANT SAVE YOU AIDEN. YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF. (But i get it its hard) Ties back into how people with BPD see the world in strict black and white, he can't see Ash's flaws and that's how he defends her so much, she's literally like a savior to him and here comes the disciple complex.

He's been forced to move so many times, he's probably made friends who just couldn't keep up the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship and ghosted him, or even him doing the opposite, pushing people away just to avoid the sting of abandonment again. They can't hurt you if you hurt them first.

2. Unstable self-image.

He bleaches his hair end of story /j

No but really, tell me Aiden doesn't put up a persona- he's gone through the phases from quiet gifted kid to an impulsive extroverted mischievous mess. Don't you just look at him and feel the self-hatred coming off in waves?? Dyeing his hair, getting contacts, the ever present grin that must be painful at this point, it's like he can't...look at himself. Like he doesn't want to look at himself.

He can't even face his own problems; he literally paints a clown face on himself after dying cuz he doesn't want to process his feelings about it lol 🫠

Like genuinely, how exactly does Aiden want to be perceived? What is the point of this facade? For himself? For other people? I think he's just trying to shut away his past and start fresh without having to confront it, but...when the root is rotten, nothing healthy can grow, so he needs to get to the source of his issues.

3. Anger regulation problems

Unpopular opinion probably but he seems so angry to me. It's definitely WAY more present in the early chapters like when he goes tf off on Tyler, he was barely controlling himself there asdfghjkl- but I think it manifests more in him attacking the phantoms, it's obviously an adrenaline thing for him but I think he's taking out a lot of anger at the same time too. Even if some of this anger is coming from a righteous place; the desire to protect his loved ones (which ties into the abandonment too, you are still abandoned even when it wasn't their choice), because peope with BPD see the world as smth very...dangerous, I guess is the word? Even if maybe that doesn't apply to themselves

(Fastpass spoilers)

He's also not above taking his anger out on humans either considering he was about to take Alex's eyes out with that paintbrush and was gonna choke the life outta them-

(Done.)

4. Consistent feelings of sadness/worthlessness.

5. Self-injury, suicidal behaviour, suicidal ideation.

Aiden do be a sadboi even with all the smiley faces on his clothes. I think this is probably smth that was way worse when he was younger that led to that depression where he was locked in his room eating junk food and disassociating, and while he's probably coping with it differently it's still smth he struggles with. I mean shiiiiiit, because of his impulsiveness he does kinda cause problems but God he feels SOOOO goddamn bad about it lahdlsj, he was so guilty about the Ash situation, he probably beat himself up so much about that-

Emotions are very extreme, it's 'similar' to bipolar disorder with manic and depressive episodes, except they happen at a much quicker scale (in the same day for ex.) which seems to me how Aiden only lets himself experience positive emotions even tho he's in a deeply stressful situation (even tho there's good parts too like his friends) because he just can't handle having to fully experience those negative emotions.

Check, check, check! Aiden has zero self preservation instincts, he throws himself off walls, gets up close and personal with phantoms that could easily kill him, actually didn't give a fuck about dying?? Actually ENJOYED IT? But didn't wanna do it again because his Favourite person was worried about him and the absolute high of that feeling completely beat out anything else?? Okay man, we get it, you're living for somebody else at this point-

People with BPD suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness and pain is the best kind of distraction for Aiden (cue: him slamming his forehead on the table because he's bored)

6. Impulsive behaviors (aka a bunch of shit which can be summed up as addictions)

Well, for starters, he's an absolute adrenaline junkie, because he feels so constantly empty Aiden wants something to make him feel alive. And adrenaline is the flawless, biological, factual answer to this. Ergo all his octane hobbies and impulsive behaviors. Ties back into his obsessiveness, which, don't get me wrong this doesn't make him a bad guy or anything, we all get a little obsessed with things sometimes, that's just things humans do- but when you have bpd, it's very...difficult to just STAY happy, like an addiction, when the high wears off, they're empty again.

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but considering all the Ramen packets in his room when he was younger I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of ED or binge eats (Same bestie.)

Also for sure a reckless driver I'm 99% sure he crashed all those go-karts he drived before.

---

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's hard to live with somebody who has BPD, it's hard to live with it yourself, it's hard to see other people go through it even when it's hurting yourself. I hate pushing people away, but you get so caught up in your own thoughts, and it just...happens...and when it's done...you really regret it, but it's too late...and you just wonder if things are better like this, being alone and not hurting anybody anymore, cuz they're certainly happy on their own

I don't think anybody who has bpd is automatically a bad person, they just have things harder than normal. People with BPD....they can be amazing artists, or good with animals, or really very kind. They have very big hearts, thats why they feel so deeply. And I think Aiden is a good person, because he has so much love to give, but has never been given an outlet to express that properly, but you can see him making great strides in learning how, with the help of his friends 🧡

Might edit this later when I get my thoughts more clear it's midnight here lol

[smashwolfen]

HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERASRY LEGENDS ARCEUS!!!!

This year I decided to do an older WIP idea i had stored away! I always liked how the game mechanic of the ride pokemon just had them appear in sparkily light, and I've mostly seen some folks in the writing community and others have the noble they call sort of walk in like a normal person would, which is fair!

I had always imagined that, since the ride pokemon were descendants of those who were blessed by Arceus themself, what if that blessing allowed them the power to actually let them travel instantaneously to where the call was made? And they travel as the same light that envelops Arceus to appear before their warden, or heros very eyes. Why have such a sparkily appearance if it wasn't because of blessed power?

So then came this idea! :D

This game and its story still live in my head rent free even at the second year since release, and it won't ever leave i think! In the past 2 years, many artists and writers have made some of my most favourite things that have fueled this obsession, and many continue to give their all and best to further the community with their creations simply out of fun and enjoyment. Heres to another year of PLA hyperfixations and hopefully many more to come!!

[pinkcrocss]

On Andre...

So, I've been picking up on a lot of negative feelings towards Andre within the fandom (some warranted, some unwarranted in my opinion). And I think it comes down to two things:

-Andre is probably one of the least developed of the core group in terms of writing.

-Andre's actor (Chance Perdomo) has some problematic views irl.

I want to focus on the first point however, cuz I'm interested in the character not the actor (Patrick Schwarzeneggar and Claudia Dumit also support Isreal, so I'm choosing to focus my feelings on characters, not the actors if I want to enjoy this show at all).

When I first watched Gen V (before the hyper fixation had kicked in), Chance's performance had been one of my least favourites. I didn't like the weird voice he was doing (turns out he was Brit doing a pretty decent attempt at an "American Jock" type accent) and I thought the actor kept doing a lot of awkward stammers and tics that didn't feel in line with the character (I assumed, that's just how the actor was irl). That is until I watched a cast interview and I learned 2 things:

He is a Brit.

He's actually a very smooth and clear speaker. Which means those mannerisms were an intentional choice by the actor.

Later, once the hyperfixation had truly set in, I was watching a boatload of cast interviews, when I caught a comment underneath one of those videos that totally changed my view of that character and performance during my 4th (maybe 5th) rewatch.

You know how each of the core group's abilities hurts them in some way and thus works as an allegory for some form of personal issue that they are overcoming? i.e.

Marie -> Cutting/Self Harm

Emma -> Eating Disorders

Cate -> Consent

Jordan -> Gender Identity/dysphoria

For a while, I don't really see how Andre's abilities could serve as an allegory for anything. like, yes later on we learn that his powers will cause him damage over time, but that kind of seemed ham-fisted at the last minute, and not really connected to his ability to bend metal.

But back to that one Youtube comment. I can't remember word for word the comment, but to paraphrase, essentially:

The commentor spoke about how they connected to Andre's character a lot because when they were in college, they had developed an auto-immune disease that essentially made them chronically ill.

They talked about being unable to keep up with their peers, while they were supposed to be in their prime physical years, and how much that taxed on their mental health. Constantly feeling left out, constantly self-medicating, and the chronic pain that they just had to grin and bear.

And as soon as I read that, everything I didn't quite understand/connect with in Andre's character suddenly made sense.

What is one of Andre's core personality traits in the group? He's the stoner.

From episode one, there's a scene of him doing drugs in every episode. Cate is constantly asking him if he's high... he's self medicating.

The slow way he talks, the constant blinking and squeezing his face (note the scene when he's yelling at Tek Knight, or after he takes that first hit from Sam, or after he stops the helicopter)... he's in pain.

So many tics and nuances in his behaviour that I initially wrote off, was actually a much more nuanced performance from Chance Perdomo.

And it all coalesces in that final scene when Andre is at Vought tower and learns of his dad's diagnosis. His powers are slowly killing him, making him weaker (like an auto-immune disease. the body attacking itself).

And the doctor asks him if he ever feels light-headed? has he noticed any uncontrollable tics? Andre is hesitant, almost like he's in denial. But you look back at his actions/behaviour throughout the show, and he's been showcasing both those things.

Finally, the scene with the helicopter. Where it's more or less confirmed that Andre's powers are doing to him, exactly what his dad's powers did. I've seen people very critical of that scene. Saying things like, Oh! He's all of a sudden being affected by the use of his powers, but we hadn't seen that previously (which I disagree) and how it seemed "too convenient".

But keep in mind, stopping a decelerating helicopter is the biggest feat of Andre's abilities we'd seen so far in the show. Of course it's going to take a bigger toll on him than all the other times (not to mention he was in pretty big emotional distress. His dad, Cate's betrayal, an attack on the school...). Stress exacerbates illnesses.

The other critique I've seen is, why are Andre's abilities having this affect now? He's supposed to be in his 20s, but his dad made it all the way to his 40s/50s before it was detected... and that's a fair question. I have some theories:

Like certain genetic illnesses, this issue is hereditary. It's not Impossible, that Andre just inherited a stronger ability than his father, and thus stronger blowback on himself.

Andre's chronic drug use might be a chicken or egg situation. Where maybe his chronic drug use exacerbated the damage his abilities were causing him, and as a result he started self-medicating with more drugs, causing a continues cycle of him increasing the damage to himself.

His dad has been shown to have a very stubborn personality (note how he refused to acknowledge when Andre revealed to him the damage their powers were causing them). Perhaps, he had started feeling the symptoms around the same age Andre had, but just kept ignoring it and pushing through up until he reached his limit in his 40s/50s.

Some other reason that writer's haven't revealed yet. The show has been renewed for a second season, and it's obvious these characters have been set up to be integral to the overarching storyline of the boys as a whole. It's entirely possible that there is more potential development for Andre's character in the future, and I think it's fair to give the writers leeway to explore that.

All in all, I just wanted to get my thoughts out about this, and maybe see how everyone else views Andre's character. He seems to be one of the least discussed in the core group, and I feel like his character has a lot of room for more development in the future if the writers approach it correctly.

[bloodplague]

I love every Headcanon you make of the characters 🛐✨. And I wanted to ask you a while ago if you could say some Bloody Painter Headcanons pleaseeeeeee 🤧🤧🛐🛐✨✨✨. I'm just humble hungry for Bloody Painter GFHHHCJVH 🛐🛐✨✨🤧🤧. And I hope you have a fabulous day, week, month and year DGFYCJG virtual hug for you 🫂✨🤍🖤

Bloody Painter Headcanons

YESS OF COURSE!! Bloody Painter is an interesting character, how could I not HDASHAS OKAY:

He has the schizoid personality disorder & autism.

Sometimes, he draws what he sees when he looks out of the window, or small animals, then splashes blood over the painting.

He loves chocolate milk and those eye-shaped gummy bears.

Helen loves the winter so much, the noises that the snow makes when he steps on it with his boots satisfies him.

Helen is also asexual, but not in a way that makes him not want sex or anything related to that: He simply feels uncomfortable after having sex.

The only alcohol he drinks is baileys.

He gets along with Kate, Jane, Cody, Tim, Brian Eyeless Jack, Dina, Rouge and Wilson. The others don't really capture his attention.

Something he also loves is just gazing out of the window and staring at the stars for hours straight. The thought of him being so small compared to the whole universe drowns him in his own thoughts, causing him to zoon out a lot.

Becuase of his schizoid personality disorder, he also has maladaptive daydreaming.

No matter where he goes, he draws tiny smileys every where. With blood, of course.

The only time he cries is when he feels this emptiness lurking up on him.

Braiding Dina's hair makes him feel more real and less dissociated.

Comes off like someone who has OCD, but doesn't have it.

The texture of jelly makes him uncomfortable & gag.

When someone talks to him, he might change the topic of the conversation to one of his hyperfixations without realizing it.

Helen loves animals, specially crows and foxes. He feels very connected to them.

He's a very distrustful person who doesn't like others seeing his vulnerable side, nor does he really show his emotions which is why he comes off as flat or boring to others.

Has a small bone collection. He likes to adjust the bone pieces to his drawings to make them look 3D.

Drawing people is a sign of appreciation, in his case.

He's not good with words sometimes, just stuttering or awkwardly trying to think of a matching word when forming sentences. It frustrates Helen a LOT.

The scent of rain makes him also feel more secure.

Helen's desk is either extremely organized or the biggest mess: Either way, he will know where what is within 2 seconds or less.

He's a little night owl.

He tried ecstacy once but didn't enjoy or like it. Never again.

When it comes to killing, he's quiet and does what he needs to do quick & skilled, not leaving any trails behind.

He digs his hand into his victims wounds to feel their organs caress his hand.

ALSO I imagine his room looking like this:

<3

[wannaeatramyeon]

uhm could you possibly do jealous lookism character headcanons? (._.)

Thanks for the ask anon! This has been a wild 2 weeks of hyperfixating for me and I'm starting to dry up so this has come as a good time (altho I've got lots of drafts sitting around lol)

This has been super interesting. Some characters obv have a jealous personality, but I've never thought about those who don't. This will def become a multi-parter!

Most jealous here!

Lookism jealous headcanons: least jealous

Let's start with these guys first (Jake, Vasco, Gun, Daniel, Eli): hc for being jealous themselves, and hc for you trying to make them jealous

Jake Kim

To be with Mr. Butt, you would have developed a pretty good relationship anyway to move into the romantic terrority. He knows you are loyal and trusts you implicitly.

Any naturally occuring feelings of jealousy are for him to deal with on his own. Will take a bit of poking and prodding before he talks to you about it.

But if you're trying to provoke him? Why are you even trying to make him jealous? Two can play at this game if you're trying to be a pain in the ass. He'll try and talk things through with you first, to see if he's pissed you off. But if you carry on? Expect him in full silly mode: kneeling down before you, shouting his apologies, announcing his feelings, literally begging you to stop flirting with this ugly nobody.

Vasco Tabasco

Rarely, if ever, gets jealous. He's just so happy to be with you. It's one thing if you're in trouble, but if he notices someone is being overly friendly but you're nonplussed? He just looks at you with heart eyes: "Ahhh look at Y/N. They're so cute and pretty! I can't believe they're with me!!"

If you're provoking Vasco then good luck. He wouldn't really understand your actions but will be upset about how he is feeling. "Do you like them more than me, Y/N? :(((" The sad face is enough to guilt you into stopping. Really, it's like kicking a puppy. Why would you do that.

Gun Park

Feeling jealous of his own accord? Guess being with you proves he is human afterall. He's arrogant, confident but aware of his own limitations. Jealousy isn't an emotion he's well acquaintained with. Will result in him brooding or being extra cold until he can put his finger on it and figure out the next steps.

Lucky for you, Gun is pretty forthright. He'll tell you what has been making him jealous so you can both work through it.

Trying to make him jealous? Also good luck. Gun will see right through your attempts. Depends what mood he is in. At times he's amused but generally he will ignore you and your childishness.

Daniel Park

Yes, he's had a glow up in his first body and yes, he gets lots of attention in his second but that doesn't erase years and years of bullying and hating himself. The feelings of inadequacy will overwhelm and cause him to shrink back into himself.

He'll need a lot of reassurance that you love him for him. It's better if you don't focus too much on his appearance. "What happens if one day I put on weight again? or when I get old? Will you still like me then? :("

Provoking him? Please don't be so mean to Daniel. Especially if you know about his insecurities. This is more of a reflection on you and your issues if you're purposely making him jealous. Shame on you.

Eli Jang

Tends to get jealous if he thinks someone else is a better provider for you: physically, romantically, mentally, financially etc. Being the Big Daddy for Eli means he should be able to do it all, and then some. He will get in his head if he thinks someone else is better suited to you.

For Eli, actions speak louder than words - show him how much you love him and he has nothing to worry about.

Cannot imagine him being with a partner that would try and make him jealous. There's enough on his hands with Hostel and Yenna. He wants a mature and stable presence in their lives, he doesn't want nor have the time to play these games.

[tigertales9]

Necessary Roughness II

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This is part 2 of Necessary Roughness (Valentine's Day blindfold action that occurs after the Super Bowl loss to the Rams)

Date/Location: 2/14/22 - Cincinnati, Ohio

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

You pull your car into the garage and pop the trunk, making a couple of trips to bring in your luggage and the groceries you stopped to pick up on the way home from the airport. You shiver as you put the groceries away before hurrying to bump the thermostat up a few notches. It was a little jarring to go from balmy temps. in LA to below freezing in Cincinnati.

Your flight left LA about 2.5 hours before the team charter, so you have plenty of time to get ready before Joe gets home. You grab your luggage and head upstairs, deciding that a hot shower is the first item to knock off of your to-do list.

40 minutes later you walk back downstairs, freshly washed, moisturized and perfumed, your long hair cascading down your back in partially dry waves that'll be totally dry by the time Joe gets home. You head to the kitchen to prep dinner while thinking back on the conversations you had with Joe over the last several hours, both in person and on the phone. It had taken a while before he decided what he wanted for dinner. The final convo went something like this:

"No really, Joe, you need to tell me what you want. And don't say a damn blindfold!"

"Okay," he'd sighed. "Maybe something Cajun."

"Something Cajun? Can you be more specific?"

"I don't care. Something spicy and Cajun."

"Cool," you'd chirped. "Guess we'll be having spicy fried alligator."

"Not alligator," he'd laughed. "How about salmon?"

Y'all had finally settled on blackened salmon, dirty rice, roasted broccoli, garlic bread plus bananas Foster for dessert. You'd asked if he wanted an appetizer and he'd said:

"No. Let's get straight to dinner so we can hurry up and get to dessert."

"Really looking forward to that bananas Foster, huh?" you'd teased.

"I'm not talking about the bananas Foster."

You shake your head when you think about the sexual innuendo in that last line. He'd been like a dog with a bone ever since you casually mentioned a blindfold after your tryst in the jet-black storage room during the Super Bowl after-party. He'd mentioned the damn blindfold so many times over the ensuing hours that you were almost certain he was hyperfixating on it as a way to ignore the horrible disappointment of losing the big game.

You finish dinner prep and wash your hands before rummaging through a closet where you keep holiday and party decorations, looking for one of the feathers from a Mardi Gras party y'all had thrown last year. You smile as you encounter a plush purple feather. "Perfect," you mutter, flicking the feather a few times before heading upstairs.

Regardless of his protestations, you knew Joe was going to be way too tired for a full scene tonight, but you still wanted to give him a little something before he crashed. You stash the feather in the top drawer of your bedside table and go looking for a few more props. You consider just using a scarf for a blindfold before you remember that black sleep mask that's way too big for you. "Bingo," you purr, pulling the mask out of a drawer in your lingerie chest, stretching the elastic to test it. "This should fit his big head," you chuckle, grabbing a gauzy red scarf before heading back into the bedroom; you place the scarf and mask in the bedside drawer before folding the comforter and top sheet down to the foot of the bed.

"What else?" you whisper to yourself. "Oh yeah," you mutter, grabbing a bottle of perfume that drives Joe crazy; you spritz the heady elixir on your clean sheets, smiling as the sensual aroma wafts up toward you. "He's gonna love that," you sigh, feeling a little tingle between your thighs thinking about the night to come before you give yourself a reality check. "Girl please," you laugh. "You'll be lucky to get him fed and give him head before his ass passes smooth out."

You head back downstairs, thinking about another conversation you had with Joe earlier in the day; he'd let you know he did not want to talk about the Super Bowl loss. To basically pretend it didn't happen. You shake your head thinking about it. "Probably for the best," you mutter to yourself. "He'll work that shit out in his own sweet time. No rushing it."

You walk to the living room to get the fire going. Joe had stacked logs in the fireplace before he left for Cali, anticipating that y'all would have a romantic Valentine's Day when you got home. You feel a pang of sadness as you light the fire, wondering if he's even going to want it now. You glance at the small bistro table and two dining chairs that he'd helped you set in front of the fireplace before he left. Y'all almost always had date night dinners in front of a roaring fire when it was cold outside, but you're not sure what he's gonna want tonight. "Just roll with it," you whisper, jumping a bit when the doorbell rings.

You grab your phone to check the ring camera, smiling when you see a lady holding a ridiculously large flower bouquet with all of your favorite flowers. You hurry to the door and sling it open. "Oh my gosh!" you exclaim, smiling ear to ear as she hands you the gigantic arrangement. "Let me grab you a tip," you say, leaning your head around the massive bouquet to make eye contact with her. "It's been taken care of," she trills, giving you a wave as she heads back to her van. You close the door and carry the bouquet into the kitchen, setting it on the bar. "Holy shit!" you laugh, stepping back to take in the impressive display. Your eyes land on an envelope nestled within the blooms; you grab it and pull the card out.

Happy Valentine's Day, Gorgeous! Can't wait to see you tonight. Love, Joe

You take a few pics of the OTT flowers. "Can't use this as a centerpiece on the table," you giggle to yourself. "We wouldn't be able to see each other." An idea hits you and you carefully pluck three coral pink peonies out of the huge bouquet, rearranging it just a bit so you can't tell anything is missing. You grab a small glass vase out of a cabinet and add a little water before arranging the frilly flowers in it. You set it on the bistro table in front of the fire and add a candle on either side, smiling at the result. "Simple but perfect," you sigh.

Your phone rings and you hurry to grab it. "Hey babe. How was your flight?"

"It was fine," Joe mutters. "I'll be home in about 30 minutes, longer if traffic is bad."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I will. I can't wait to see you."

He delivers that last line in a way that sets off butterflies in your stomach. "I feel the same," you whisper, biting your bottom lip before a thought hits you. "Thank you for the flowers," you blurt out. "They're absolutely beautiful! All of my favs."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"I love them and I love you."

"Love you too, baby. See you soon."

You hurry upstairs to change clothes, stripping out of your yoga pants and oversized t-shirt before shimmying into a slinky 3/4 sleeve black wrap minidress, no bra or panties. You sit down at your vanity table and deftly apply a quick smoky eye plus a dark red lipstain, smiling at your sultry reflection in the mirror while fluffing your hair. You slide your feet into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers and grab a pair of candy apple red patent stilettos before heading downstairs.

You check the clock and quickly get the dirty rice started since it takes the longest to finish. You pull plates and silverware out, the butterflies in your stomach taking flight when you hear the garage door open. You hurry down the hall to meet Joe at the garage entrance. The door opens and Joe walks in followed by a frosty swirl of air. "Brrrr," you shiver, giving him a dazzling smile as he shuts the door and turns to face you. Your heart breaks a little at the dark circles under his eyes, no doubt the result of a lot of disappointment, a few tears and a mostly sleepless night. He reaches for you and pulls you into a tight hug, nestling his nose in your hair and breathing you in. "It's so good to be home," he whispers. "Good to have you home," you sigh, melting into his embrace as he runs his hands up and down your back. He drops a kiss on your forehead and cheek before capturing your lips, sliding his tongue in your mouth to slowly tangle with yours in a way that sets off a throb of arousal deep inside you. You lean into him as he deepens the kiss, both of you laughing several seconds later when his stomach growls loudly. "Better get some dinner in you," you giggle against his slick lips.

"I guess so," he grumbles, whistling as he steps back to take in your slinky minidress. "Damn, you look amazing," he continues, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs and cleavage before finally re-capturing your gaze. "Thanks," you grin. "I have some killer heels to go with this outfit, but I got so excited when I heard the garage door that I forgot to put them on." You point at your fuzzy pink slippers. "Guess these kind of ruin the sexy effect."

"You don't need heels to be sexy, baby girl," he states, kissing your neck before stepping back to strip off his coat. You take it from him and hang it on the coat rack before grabbing his hand. "Come check out this gorgeous bouquet of flowers," you say, leading him into the kitchen. "Damn," he chuckles. "I said I wanted it to be big and they didn't disappoint."

"It's so big," you giggle.

He gives you a dirty wink. "That's not the only big thing you're getting tonight."

You give him a cheeky look before walking to the stove to stir the dirty rice.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower then I have something to give you," he says, laughing when you throw him a look over your shoulder.

"I know exactly what you want to give me, but I'm going to get a nice hot meal in your belly first, so just slow your roll."

"What?" he chuckles. "I wasn't talking about that, you horndog. I have an actual gift for you."

You spin around and hit him with a 'boy please' look. "You've been talking about blindfolds and sex for several hours straight, but I'm the horndog?"

"Obvs."

You pick up a dish towel and throw it at him, shaking your head when he easily side steps it. "Sheisty ass," you grumble. "Go get your shower."

"Yes, ma'am," he mutters, chuckling as he heads upstairs.

He comes down about 15 minutes later in slinky black trackpants and a blue t-shirt the same color as his eyes; he places a red Cartier gift bag on the bar, giving you a deep-throated laugh when you reach into a cabinet and pull the exact same Cartier gift bag out and set it next to his. "Uh-oh," he chuckles. "Hope we didn't get each other the same thing."

"Before we open gifts, can you open the Champagne?" you ask, grabbing the bottle out of the fridge. "Sure," he says, taking the bottle from you as you pull Champagne flutes out of a cabinet. You were perfectly capable of opening the bubbly, but it was much more fun to let him do it so you could watch his ridiculously sexy hands gripping and twisting the bottle, easing the cork out with effortless finesse.

The cork leaves the bottle with an audible 'pop' and he lets it breathe for a bit before pouring. He hands you a glass of effervescent bubbles before picking up his own. "Happy Valentine's Day," he purrs, holding his glass up. "Happy Valentine's Day," you echo, kissing your glass against his before taking a sip.

"Ladies first," he says, sliding your gift bag toward you. You take another sip before reaching into the bag and pulling out a rectangular gift box. Bracelet, you think to yourself, smiling in delight as you flip the box open and lay eyes on the Cartier interlocking Love bracelet in rose gold. "It's gorgeous," you sigh. "I love it!" You pluck the delicate chain out of the gift box and hand it to Joe. "Put it on me please," you ask, watching as his agile fingers easily work the tiny clasp. "It looks perfect," he says. "Classy and beautiful just like you."

"Thank you, daddy," you tease, smiling when his eyebrows shoot upward. "Your turn," you continue, pushing his gift bag toward him. "I'm just supposed to ignore the whole 'daddy' thing?" he grumps, his hot gaze raking up and down your curvy frame as you give him an innocent smile. "Yes," you giggle. "Dinner's almost ready."

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before reaching a hand inside his gift bag, pulling out a tiger-striped thong. "My fav," he purrs, eyes lighting up.

"I know you told me to order 50 more," you shrug, "but that seemed excessive so I ordered 20. They'll be here in a few days."

"20 is a good start," he mutters, his eyes glued to the lacy panties. You shake your head and hold a hand out. "If you want me to wear those tonight I'm gonna need 'em. That's the only pair I have right now since you shredded my other ones last night." He flicks his gaze down to your crotch before meeting your eyes. "What are you wearing now?" You give him a grin. "Nothing, but if you want me to wear those . . ."

"Hell no," he interrupts, tossing the thong to the side while licking his lips. You nod at his gift bag. "There's something else in there." He continues to eye you like a starving man eyeing a juicy steak, so you clear your throat and try again. "Babe, I need you to focus," you state, smiling when he finally manages to pull his eyes off of your crotchal region. "Huh?" he mutters. You tap a finger against the bag. "There's something else in there," you repeat.

"Oh," he mumbles, reaching in and pulling out a rectangular box, grinning when he flips it open. "New shades! Thanks, baby, I love 'em." He slides them on, turning his head side to side. "How do they look?"

"Uh-oh," you mutter, tilting your head to the side as you grimace.

"Do they look bad?"

"Badass," you giggle.

"Then why'd you make a face?"

"I'm just afraid you might cause trouble wearing them."

"What kind of trouble?"

You shrug. "You look so damn hot, I'm afraid your fangirls might spontaneously ovulate at the sight of you."

"Shut up," he chuckles.

"No seriously," you sigh, giving him a solemn look. "The tidal wave of estrogen could be catastrophic."

He slides the glasses off and shakes his head at you. "You're trippin'," he mumbles, trying and failing to keep the smug grin off his face.

The oven timer goes off and you spring into action, pulling pans out of the oven while giving orders. "Babe, take the napkins and silverware to the table, plus top off our Champagne flutes and take those too."

"Got it," he says, doing your bidding, stopping long enough to throw another log on the fire and light the candles before heading back to the kitchen. You're just finishing up plating the food when he walks back in. "That smells delicious," he moans, taking both dinner plates from you as you grab the plate of garlic bread. "I'm fucking starving," he continues, setting the plates on the table before pulling your chair out for you. You give him a smile and hand him the garlic bread. "Be right back," you chirp, hurrying back into the kitchen before reappearing several seconds later wearing the candy apple red fuck-me pumps. You put a little extra swish in your hips as you walk toward him, smiling at the look on his face. "Goddamn," he breathes, watching you intently as you get settled in your chair. "You like 'em?" you ask, making a show of crossing your legs. "Love 'em," he mutters, tilting his head to the side, his gaze sliding from your feet to your crotch. "You trying to get an upskirt, Burrow?" you tease. "Damn right," he chuckles, making a disappointed face when you place your napkin on your lap.

He eventually drops into his chair and starts eating his dinner, making appreciative noises in between small talk, his eyes instinctively drawn time and time again to the deep 'v' of your cleavage and your bare legs shimmering in the flickering firelight. He pats his belly as he polishes off his last bite of garlic bread. "That was so good, babe, but I'm too full for the bananas Foster. Can we have it tomorrow?"

You nod your head. "Sure. What time is your MRI scheduled for your knee?"

"Not until 2:00 p.m."

"Good. We can sleep in then I'll make us a nice brunch with bananas Foster for dessert. Does that sound okay?"

"Sounds great. Let's go to bed." He closes the fire screen then helps you carry everything to the kitchen.

"Let me handle this," you say, shooing him toward the stairs. "I want you booty butt naked in the bed when I get up there in 10 minutes."

"Bossy ass," he chuckles, as he heads for the stairs.

"Damn right," you giggle. "I'm calling the shots tonight."

He mumbles something under his breath as he heads upstairs. "What was that?" you holler. "Nothing," he answers.

You shake your head as you finish loading the dishwasher. You wipe down the counters and wash your hands before grabbing your half-full glass of Champagne; you finally head upstairs, expecting Joe to be sound asleep. Instead he's deliciously naked sitting on the side of the bed.

"Hey," you mutter, turning off the overhead light as you walk in the room. "Hey," he responds," his voice thick with carnal promise as you walk toward him and flick on the bedside lamp. You set your glass down on the bedside table and pull the drawer out just far enough to slide your hand in, not wanting him to see the contents. You pull the red scarf out and drape it over the lamp. "Sexy," he murmurs, sliding a big foot forward to press his toes against your porny red heels. "Mood lighting," you whisper, reaching back in the drawer to pull out the mask. You step between his thighs to place the mask on him. "Hold on," he protests. "Take your dress off first." You raise an eyebrow at his bossy tone. "Please," he adds, "I wanna see you before you blindfold me."

You untie the strings holding your dress in place and allow it to fall open, watching as Joe's gaze takes in your breasts and crotch, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "Maybe the blindfold isn't such a good idea," he admits. "Oh hell no," you laugh, shrugging off your dress. "I've heard the word 'blindfold' several hundred times since midnight last night. Best believe we're doing this." You step forward and place the mask on him. "Lay down," you order, smiling when he does your bidding. You look at his pretty pink nipples and quickly realize you forgot the damn whipped cream. "Be right back," you chirp, "forgot the Champagne."

You hustle downstairs and grab the mostly-empty Champagne bottle and the can of dairy-free whipped cream from the fridge, slightly out of breath as you hurry back into the bedroom. He pulls his mask up to peek at you and you wiggle the Champagne bottle at him while hiding the whipped cream behind your back. "Got it," you purr. "Quit peeking," you continue, waiting for him to lower his mask before setting the bottle on the table while sliding the whipped cream under the covers at the end of the bed. You take a sip of bubbly and crawl on the bed beside him, leaning down and letting the cool, fizzy liquid dribble into his belly button before slurping it out. "What's that?" he gasps, as you do it again. "Battery acid," you mutter, rolling your eyes as he pulls his mask up to look at you. "It's Champagne, goober," you giggle, giving him another splash and slurp while he watches. "Quit peeking!" you snap, waiting for him to lower the mask before crawling in between his thighs; you reach down and grab the can of whipped cream, giving it a vigorous shake before anointing his hard nipples with two creamy puffs. "What the hell is that?" he croaks, groaning as you lick and suck the sweet foam off of his sensitive nubs. You give him a second helping, shaking your head when he lifts the mask to peek at you. "Boy, you are too damn nosy," you laugh, waiting for him to lower the mask before licking his nipples clean.

This is the goofiest scene ever, you think to yourself, your eyes flicking down to his raging hard-on. Guess he's enjoying it, you shrug, leaning forward to grab the feather out of your bedside drawer. "Put your hands over your head," you order, waiting until he obeys before sliding the gossamer feather down the length of that prominent vein on the underside of his right arm; he hisses as you tickle his exposed armpit before heading farther south, grazing his hard nipples before slowly sliding down the length of his torso. You smile when his well-defined ab muscles jump and twitch under your sensual onslaught.

You shift the feather to your left hand and gently drag it over his erection, biting your lip when his cock flexes up into the caress. He hisses in pleasure as you repeat the motion while stealthily reaching your right hand out to grab the whipped cream; you give the can a quick shake then adorn his balls with a decadent swirl.

"Oh my God," he whispers, moaning as you lick a stripe through the cream. He rips the mask off and throws it across the room, watching as you lick and suck the frothy, sweet foam off of him, taking your time as he squirms beneath you. "You like that?" you tease, looking up at him through your long lashes. "Love it," he grits out, fisting both hands in the slinky sheets. You finish cleaning off his balls then flatten your tongue against the base of his cock and slowly drag it up, lapping up the precum on his tip before taking him deep.

"Shit baby, hold on!" he croaks. "I don't wanna cum yet." You pull off and go back to teasing him with delicate licks. "Let me know what you need," you breathe. "I just need a minute," he mutters. "Let me calm down a bit."

You sit back on your heels and give him a thorough up-and-down look, your eyes coming to rest on his thick thighs. "I think I'll have some fun while you reset," you purr, straddling one muscular thigh and grinding down. You both groan at the feel of your slick heat sliding against him. He flexes his quad as you roll your hips and you moan at the added friction. "So juicy for me," he murmurs, reaching a hand down to tease your clit as you ride his thigh. You gasp when he pinches the sensitive nub causing a gush of wetness. "Mmmm," he moans, trailing his fingers through your essence before raising them to his mouth and sucking them clean.

"Come here," he urges, curling two long fingers to beckon you forward. "I want it straight from the source," he teases, slowly sliding his long tongue across his bottom lip while giving you an absolutely filthy grin. You know exactly what that tongue is capable of; you feel a throb of anticipation deep inside as you crawl forward to do his bidding, biting your lip as you straddle his face. He turns his head side to side, pressing wet kisses against your inner thighs before lining his mouth up with your core. "Lower," he demands, making a guttural noise in his throat when you spread your thighs wider, dropping down until you can feel his hot breath on your most sensitive flesh.

You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue against your slit, squeezing your eyes closed as you wait for more, the anticipation making you a little lightheaded. After several seconds you look down and notice he's looking directly at your crotch. You're almost shy in that moment since you're basically doing the splits on his face, but your shyness vanishes when you feel his deep voice vibrating against you, lavishing praise for how you look and taste in a way that sends a sizzle of pleasure up your spine. "Such a pretty pink pussy," he groans, using his thumbs to spread your lips before giving you a long, slow lick from ass to clit. "Taste so good, baby," he breathes, continuing to tease you with his fingers and tongue.

You grab the top of the headboard to steady yourself as he works you in all the ways he knows you love, switching between delicate and aggressive, keeping you off balance with shallow licks followed by the hot, velvety length of his tongue pushed deep inside you. "So good," you whimper, feeling a coil of pleasure tighten in your belly. You lift one hand off the headboard and reach down, threading your fingers in his unruly curls as you shamelessly grind your pussy against him. He moans as you pull his hair, the added sensation causing your core to clench around his tongue.

"I'm close!" you whine, your breath catching in your throat as he slides his tongue up to your clit and gives it a loud suck while shoving two fingers inside you, nothing delicate anymore just relentlessly fucking his thick fingers into you as he devours your clit. Several heartbeats later your climax hits hard and you throw your head back, his name on your lips as your core squeezes his fingers.

You moan as his fingers continue to tease you, wringing every bit of pleasure out of you as you gasp for breath. "Oh my God," you gasp, pulling off of his fingers and sliding down a bit, trying to get your trembling legs to cooperate as you maneuver your way down until your core is hovering over his erection. "Now let me take care of you," you whisper shakily, taking several deep breaths while you reach down and guide his thick cock between your slick folds. "Take it slow," he urges, his eyes sliding shut as you inch down until he's buried to the hilt. You're just starting to slide back up when he grabs your waist. "Don't move," he orders, and you go completely still, biting your lip as you feel the aftershocks of your climax fluttering around his cock. "No need to rush this," he states as he wraps his big hands around your thighs and gives a squeeze. "Your legs are still shaking."

"Everything is still shaking." You give a breathless laugh. "That climax was insane; I'm a little lightheaded, but I'm good. I can handle business."

"Let me take over," he demands.

"Thought I was calling the shots tonight," you pout.

"I've got a better idea," he points at his mouth. "I want your lips right here."

You lean forward slowly, hitting a hard Kegel just as you press your lips against his, catching his groan in your mouth. "That's what you get for being bossy," you giggle.

He bites your plump bottom lip hard enough to get your attention. "Babe, I need you to focus."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna flip you over then I'm gonna fuck you senseless. You okay with that?"

His husky voice sends a shiver up your spine. "Yes, sir," you whisper against his lips, your breath catching in your throat as he wraps his arms around you and flips you over, his cock still buried deep inside you once you're on your back; you wrap your legs around him and arch up into his thrusts as he snaps his hips forward. You run your hands over his back, shoulders and arms, breathless at the feel of his muscles flexing and bulging under your fingertips.

He shifts his upper-body weight onto his left arm to free his right arm to play with you. You relish the feel of his big body pressing you into the mattress, his fingers on your nipples and his hot mouth on your neck. He licks a trail up to your sensitive ear. "You feel so good, baby. So tight," he groans, his deep voice mixed with soft grunts as he fucks you hard sending jolts of pleasure to all the right places. He wraps his free hand around your slender throat, his eyes icy-hot with arousal as he squeezes just hard enough for the edges of your vision to go a little hazy. You gasp for air as he eases up, his gaze pinning you in place as he squeezes a little harder, leaning down to catch your whimpers in his mouth as your core clenches around his thrusting cock. "Fuck," he growls, the raw lust in his voice sizzling across every nerve ending in your body.

You're drunk on the sound of him, the smell and the feel of him as he pulls back and locks eyes with you. "Can you cum for me again?" he asks, sliding a hand down to tease your super sensitive clit. "Yes, daddy," you whisper, watching in fascination as his baby blue eyes go completely black, pupils blown wide from arousal. He continues to play with your swollen clit while pounding into you, giving you every. single. inch. of his big cock in a way that straddles the line between pleasure and pain, drawing whimpers from your throat in a steady stream. He presses his lips against your ear. "Cum for me, baby," he growls, while pinching your clit. Your vision immediately goes hazy then fades to black as your climax hits; he follows you seconds later, burying his cock to the hilt and rocking into you as your pulsating core milks him dry.

He eventually rolls onto his back and pulls you on top of his sweat-slick chest, running a hand up and down your back as you catch your breath; you breathe in his scent as you listen to his racing heartbeat gradually slow back down to a normal pace.

After several minutes, you take one more deep breath and speak up. "So much for me doing most of the work and calling most of the shots," you grumble playfully.

"Sorry," he groans. "Guess I'm never beating the bossy allegations."

"Never!" you chirp. "I mean that blindfold didn't last long before you hucked it across the room."

"I wanted to see you," he pouts. "Can't blame me for that."

"I guess so," you mumble, sighing in contentment as he continues to stroke a big hand up and down your back.

Several minutes pass before his deep voice stirs you out of your post-climax bliss. "You awake?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Listen," he states. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Win or lose, I know you'll always be there for me. Can't even explain how much that means to me." He heaves a sigh before continuing. "I just wish I could've gotten it done. Wish I could've made everybody proud."

"Baby, everybody is proud." You sit up and lock eyes with him. "You carried this team all the way to the fucking Super Bowl in your first full season, coming off a horrible knee injury and behind an asstastic o-line that tried to get you killed every week." He laughs softly as you continue. "You put the entire league on notice. They know you're a couple decent o-linemen away from total domination."

He gives you a tired smile. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better," he sighs, cupping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you down for a kiss. "I love you," he whispers against your lips. "Love you, too," you murmur, melting into the languid kiss for a minute before snuggling into his warm embrace.

Just before you nod off, your leg touches something cool and you turn your head to see what it is. Oh yeah, the whipped cream, you think to yourself. Better put it back in the fridge. You slide out of bed, giving Joe a smile as he reaches a hand out for you.

"Where are you going?" he pouts.

You shake the can at him. "Be right back. Just gotta put this in the fridge." You take two steps before his voice stops you.

"We will definitely need that tomorrow."

You spin around and give him a smile. "Yep, the bananas Foster wouldn't be as good without it."

He gives you a grin that's half sleepy half naughty. "I wasn't talking about the bananas Foster."

You raise one eyebrow at the look on his face. "We just had sex and you're already thinking about it again?"

"Obvs," he says, yawning while giving you a wink.

"Go to sleep, horndog," you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully as you head to the kitchen.

[writermai05]

Arsonist's Lullabye

Chapter 2: Wasteland, Baby!

Summary: Y/n makes new friends, and Zuko….tries. 

Pairing: Zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated) 

A/N: Not “this is me trying” starting to play as I was writing Zuko’s pov…Anyways, this is a long chapter, which is why it took me so long to write. I was struggling a bit, but I think it came out good! I would love any feedback / constructive criticism to help me improve on the story. 

Word Count: 1,897

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. Lots of divergence from the canon story lol. 

Warnings !: Zuko is insecure, Mentions of bullying, I think that’s it? 

Y/n was excited to start classes. After all, she was a social butterfly, floating around from person to person like flowers in a garden.  Her morning sociology class was pretty small for a lecture, but it was full of interesting new people. 

But there was one person who stood out to her most. A girl with jet black hair, held in a bun at the top of her head with a gold pin, and golden eyes with an intensity enough to make even the most powerful cower. She wore a bright red long sleeved top under a black tank top, with matching black pants and black leather boots. She stood strongly, and with perfect posture. But Y/n noticed how she stood off to the side of the room, all by herself. Maybe the girl was intentionally avoiding people? Y/n thought. Or maybe, the mere aura of this girl was strong enough to deter people away from her. Either way, Y/n was intrigued. 

As their classmates mingle about, asking the same two questions over and over again, Y/n quietly snuck next to the girl. She took notice of her height. If the girl’s hair was down, the two of them would be about the same height. Y/n quietly took in her presence in an attempt to learn more about her.

“Who are you?” The girl snapped, looking Y/n up and down, sizing her up. 

Y/n brushed off the hostile advance as if it were nothing.  “I’m Y/n. I’m a second year psychology major. And you?” 

The girl appeared a little surprised. Perhaps she was used to people being scared, or intimidated by her. 

“...Azula.” The girl replied. 

Y/n nodded. “Well Azula, what is your year and major?” 

“I’m a first year business administration major…”  Azula responded, clearly uninterested in the rest of the conversion. Y/n wasn’t an idiot. She could tell when people were not in the mood to converse. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Azula. If you actually feel like talking, I’ll be over there.” And with that, Y/n left, fluttering away to a brand new person on the other side of the lecture hall, leaving Azula thoroughly confused, and kind of impressed. 

~

When Katara and Y/n had lunch last friday, the younger girl had insisted that Y/n had lunch with her, Sokka, and their friends. To which Y/n happily accepted, of course. 

The dining hall buzzed with high spirits as students lined up to get their lunch. Looking out amongst the crowd, she spotted the group of friends, their laughter and their energetic conversations added to the noise within the room. 

Sokka was the first to spot her, “Y/n!” He said, bringing the girl to the group's attention. There were 5 of them at the table, an air-nomad boy sat next to Katara, and next to him sat a short girl in green, then Sokka, and another girl next to him. 

“You guys this is Y/n, my mentor for the scholarship program Sokka and I are a part of!” Katara took hold of Y/n’s arm, leading her to sit in between her and the taller girl. The girl in question smiled at y/n. 

“Nice to meet you y/n! I’m Suki-”

“My girlfriend!” Sokka cut her off in an excited tone. Suki narrowed her eyes at Sokka, making the boy reel it back a little. 

“Yes. I am indeed Sokka’s girlfriend. That’s Toph and Aang, Katara’s boyfriend.” Suki pointed at the short girl and the air-nomad boy. Aang smiled while Toph gave a little nod of her head. 

“It’s so nice to meet you guys. Katara and Sokka talk about you a lot.” Y/n said with a smile. 

“So Y/n, what do you like to do?” Toph asked curiously, her unseeing eyes trailing around the area where y/n sat. 

“Well, I’m a psych major, and I minor in Water Tribe studies. I practice water-bending sometimes too..” Y/n trailed off. 

“You’re a water-bender? Why didn’t you mention it before?” asked Katara. 

Y/n Shrugged. “I’m not very good. Plus my parents are kinda…disconnected from that part of our culture.” 

The group nodded in sympathy. The rapid urbanization of their nations left no room for things like the practice of bending. Nowadays, only the rich, as well as some members of the Water Tribe, continue to teach their children bending. It was almost more common for people to not know bending than to know it.  

Amidst the clinking of utensils and the hum of conversation, the group of friends savored their lunch, grateful for the simple things. They rattled on about going to Toph’s Power Disc game next week, and watching Suki in the Kyoshi color guard. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw a certain cashier. She turned her head to look at him completely, which grabbed the attention of Katara. 

“Ugh. Zuko.” She said with a roll of her eyes. 

Y/n perked at the mention of his name. “You guys know him?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Why do you ask? ” Katara stabbed into her food, causing Aang to put a hand on her shoulder, calming her down. 

“I met him at the Jasmine Dragon.” Y/n explained vaguely. Based on the reactions around the table, she knew she probably should not have asked about him.

“We went to high school together…He wasn’t the nicest back then.” Aang explained. 

Sokka scoffed at Aang’s passivity.

“He burnt Toph’s feet. He literally shoved you into a locker! That’s like, some shit you’d see in a mover!” Sokka exclaimed in an over the top fashion. 

Toph shrugged, “That was an accident. We were sparring in PE-”

“Toph, you’re a 5 foot tall blind girl-”

“Hey! I’m 5’1!” 

Aang tried his best to get his friends to settle down. 

“Okay that’s enough. Sokka, weren’t you and Zuko in the same class last year? He wasn’t mean to you then right?”

“Maybe because he was embarrassed from completely bombing his first year of classes-”

Aang’s eyes widened, “Katara!” 

“What? It’s true.” She said matter of factly. 

Suki was the one to get the group to settle down. 

“That’s enough you guys.” 

Now was probably an awful time for Y/n to mention Zuko was very nice when they had met the previous week. Instead, she opted to sit quietly, pondering all the information she had just learned. 

~

Zuko was mortified. 

Of course Y/n was friends with the people he tormented. Of course they had mattered to shoot down any chances of friendship between him and Y/n. Of course, he would never get a chance to finally make amends with Aang and his friends. He knew for a fact he had done this to himself, and yet he couldn’t help but immediately blame the circumstances that had followed him up until this point. 

As he walked into his next class, Zuko began to feel an unprompted sense of dread overwhelm him. 

Oh. That’s why. 

Low and behold, sitting right in front of him was the girl he had served at the boba shop mere days ago. The girl that had literally just listened to Aang and his friends completely dragged him about his past behavior. 

Y/n made eye contact with him, her eyes filling with warm recognition. She smiled at him, giving a small wave. Zuko quickly averted contact, sitting as far away as he could with the limited seats left in class. He tried his best to avoid catching her gaze, but it was useless, because she was staring at him now. Each time their eyes met each other's, Zuko's would dart to the floor, in an attempt to not feel the heavy weight of his past transgressions on his conscience.  

It worked for about 15 minutes, before the professor grouped everyone in the class up to talk. Of course, it was just his luck that his stupid professor would group Y/n and him as a pair. 

“Just talk with your partner a little about yourselves. I really encourage you to get to know one another, as you will be with these people for the rest of the year.” Their professor had said. 

Yeah, thanks. 

The tension between the two was palpable. Zuko refused to make conversation, simply nodding at everything that Y/n would tell him. He assumed it would be better if they kept the conversation minimal, maybe then she didn’t have to pretend to want to know more about him. 

However, Y/n was starting to get annoyed. What was going on? This is literally what she had wanted, and yet Zuko sat there, pretending to care about what she was saying. 

“What is your deal?” She asked bluntly, shocking Zuko, and even herself a little, with the brash tone she had taken up. 

“What is my deal? What is your deal?” he fired back, as if he were a child retorting to a schoolyard taunt. 

“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying? If you don't want to talk, you should just say something. You don’t have to go the extra mile to ignore me for virtually no reason?’

“Why are you talking to me?” he spat back at her. 

Y/n looked at him with dismay. “Because I can? Do I need a reason?” 

“Well after the conversation you and your friends had at the dining hall, I figured there was no reason you’d want to.” Y/n noticed the way Zuko pulled back after he said that. He once again looked everywhere else but at her. 

“I’m sorry.” said Zuko. 

He knew this was a mistake. He should have never tried in the first place. Silence overtook the two of them for a minute. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between all of you. But this is all new to me, and I don’t know how exactly to navigate this. I forgive you for being an asshole just now.” Y/n was being honest, but she couldn’t quite tell whether or not Zuko had understood. 

“Time’s up! Back to your seats.” Their professor proclaimed as the timer chirped a loud, annoying, song. 

Feeling like a kicked puppy, Zuko began to gather his things and return to his seat. But not before Y/n reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

“How about we sit next to each other on wednesday? We’ll talk more then?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly. 

Zuko was confused. Had she not realized just how fucked up of a person he is? Why isn’t she giving up?

“Okay…” he responded with a curt nod. 

She gave a gentle smile, nodding her own head. “Okay.” 

With that, she let go of his hand, letting Zuko walk away. He stared at the wrist that she had held onto. Her grasp was gentle, but unyielding and it had felt like a jolt of lightning against his scarred skin. 

Y/n had felt the roughness of his scarred skin underneath her fingertips, her eyes trailing Zuko as he walked away. She found herself even more curious about him than before. 

Within the wasteland of his mind, Zuko picked up the pieces of all his hopes and dreams, for maybe a secret oasis could finally be found in Y/n’s kindness. Maybe, his luck was beginning to change.