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charliemwrites · 3 days

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Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison.

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades and persephone inspired #soulmates #john soap mactavish #captain john mactavish #kate laswell

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hqbaby · 1 day

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seven — i have a secret

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2k content. profanity, FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELINGS

You met Satoru by chance. Or at least that was what you thought until he confessed three months into your relationship that he’d devised the whole thing.

“You’re not serious,” you said, gaping at your boyfriend. “You couldn’t have planned that.”

The two of you were sitting in his car, seats reclined backwards as you shared a bag of fries and passed a milkshake between one another. The speakers were blaring a hodgepodge playlist the two of you had made, one you’d both added all your favorite songs to with no rhyme or reason that resulted in an eccentric mix of ‘90s rock, rap, and—courtesy of Satoru—Britney Spears’ entire discography.

Things were so much simpler then. Better.

“I planned it all!” he told you, laughing as you continued to stare at him in bewilderment. “I had a massive crush on you, what else was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno,” you gestured frantically, “maybe talk to me like a normal person?”

He snorted. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“You wouldn’t have given me the time of day!”

You gasped in faux shock. “I totally would’ve!”

He pointed the fry he was holding at you in wild accusation. “You turned down everyone who asked you out,” he said, all matter-of-factly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, princess.”

You shook your head, grinning now as your boyfriend stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth. He’s such a boy, you thought.

“Let me get this straight,” you said as you sat up, placing your hands on your lap. “You took a class that isn’t even in your curriculum, purposely bumped into me after a game, proceeded to tutor me for a whole month just to ask me out?”

He shrugged, beaming proudly at his apparent job well-done. “What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”

You tossed a fry at him as you laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I believe ‘amazing’ is the right term,” he said, sitting up now too. He leaned in towards you and brushed a strand of hair from your eye. Quietly, he added, “And you were totally worth it.”

His lips met yours and you swore that if you died right then and there, you’d have died happy.

What a shame it all had to end.

Your neighborhood is safe. Well, that’s what you tell yourself when you go rogue—against all of Maki and Nobara’s insistence and all your empty promises—and decide to go on a run in the dead of night.

You don’t usually take this kind of risk, resorting to early morning jogs before class or training, but you couldn’t sleep anyway and the tournament is coming up soon. You’ve never been one to half-ass anything, so you have no intentions of half-assing this. Safety be damned. You’ll run if you want to run.

The streets are still as you make your way around the block. You circle the park, the cluster of houses, the apartment buildings. There’s a convenience store that’s still open—you wonder what it’s like to work there, to tend to an empty shop. Maybe it isn’t so bad a life. Maybe you wouldn’t mind winding down in your old age and owning a 24/7 convenience store. Maybe you’ll have grandchildren by then, but that would require children and you don’t necessarily want to think about that just yet.

You distract yourself with the different sights, the mindless thoughts, the grocery list of things you need to buy the next day—anything to not think about the fact that you’re absolutely exhausted and could pass out at any point in your run.

You haven’t slept much since that brief reprieve afforded by Sukuna’s company a few days ago. You’ve gone to classes, dutifully attended meetings for your organizations, religiously beat your body into perfection in training. At this point, you’re just running on auto-pilot.

You wonder when this will ever end.

You circle back to the convenience store and your foot—so tired, so susceptible to minor inconveniences now—catches on a stone on the ground. At least you have enough foresight to land your ass.

It’s then that everything crashes down on you. You can do nothing now but sit on the ground and wearily massage your legs as you wait for the last bit of strength to return to you, just enough to make you get up and walk home. You just sit there, on the pavement of a dark street, fully aware that it’s probably not a good idea but also fully aware that you don’t have it in yourself to care.

You pull your phone out of your pocket. There’s a text from Maki asking if you placed the orders for the shirts you’re selling at the children’s rights fundraiser. Right. You forgot to do that. There’s a text from Kento asking if you have notes from that one class the two of you share. An email from Yuki with the details of the tournament. A meme from Sukuna, an image of a clown with the accompanying message “u.”

Then there’s the text you’ve been avoiding.

satoru <3 : can we talk sometime?

You should really change his contact name.

And it’s like the universe hears you. You don’t know if you’ve ever fully bought into the whole “the universe is listening” thing, but you might just become a full-fledged believer, because as soon as you look up from your phone, you find a figure walking through the shadows towards you.

A random straggler maybe? A murder with an axe? One of those zombies that keep chasing you in your dreams?

You know who it is as soon as the first bit of light from the dying street lamp hits his hair.

Satoru.

He’s walking with his hands in his pockets, head hung low like he’s tired or thinking or both. It takes him a while to even register your presence. It’s only after you put your phone away that he looks up, alerted by the slight movement.

His eyes meet yours. Blue piercing straight into you, like he can see your thoughts. Like he can read your mind. You always suspected he could.

“Hi,” he says.

He’s standing a few feet away from you, close enough to take in your weakened form but far enough to run away if you decide to lunge forward and strangle him for whatever reason.

You lift your hand, a tiny wave. “Hey.”

His eyes scan your body, already checking to see what’s happened. He notices your legs spread out on the pavement, the bags under your eyes. You look okay, though, he thinks. Not in any immediate distress.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is unsure, afraid of entering the realm of familiarity, uncertain if you want him there.

You shrug, “Oh, you know. Just seeing the sights.”

He nods. “Right.”

“You wanna sit with me?”

The question isn’t so much said as it just flies out of you. A natural thing, to pose this question. Akin to asking about the weather, akin to how you used to tell him you loved him. Exactly what was expected, exactly what it should have been.

His answer is just as expected too. “Sure.”

Satoru steps closer and crouches down to sit in front of you. He sits cross-legged, placing his hands on his knees as he looks around hesitantly.

“It’s really late,” he says.

“I know.”

“It gets dodgy here at night.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”

You crack a smile at that. “I’m not alone now, am I?”

Satoru looks at you incredulously before smiling too. “Maki is so gonna kill you if she hears about this.”

“Then don’t fucking snitch,” you warn him. Your words are harsh, but your tone is light. Easy. “I’m already in hot water with her.”

“What did you do?” he asks. He relaxes a little, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. “Did you lose her sweater again?”

You roll your eyes. “That was one time.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “I remember at least four times you came to me all panicked because you didn’t know where it was.”

“To be fair, half of those times I was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

He raises a brow. “You’re kidding.”

“Not,” you tell him. “You’re not the only one who made shit up to talk to their crush.”

The two of you laugh, remembering that horrifying period of time before you got together and routinely embarrassed yourselves for one another.

You know this whole thing, laughing on the street with the boy you broke up with less than a month ago, should feel wrong, at the very least awkward. But it doesn’t. When you look at Satoru, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, you can’t help but remember just how much he meant to you. Maybe just how much he’ll always mean to you.

Satoru shuffles closer and says in a low conspiratorial tone, “I have a secret.”

You pretend to look around, check to see if anyone is listening. Then, you ask him, “What?”

He moves closer until his face is just inches away from yours. And he says the words you already knew he was going to say.

“I miss you.”

You let out a breath.

“I miss you too.”

You both lean forward, close enough to feel his breath on your lips, but not enough to touch his. His hand reaches for yours and squeezes it, holds it to his chest. There’s comfort to his touch, a familiar warmth. One that you’ve loved for a while now.

“‘Toru,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding through your chest. You suspect that you can hear his.

“We can’t do this.”

His eyes flicker to your lips. You can almost read his mind. Why can’t we?

But he pulls back and so do you. He lets go of your hand, nodding as he takes his warmth away with him. There’s disappointment in his expression, but also a deep understanding. A deep knowledge that this isn’t right. You can’t do this.

You wring your hands and turn your gaze to a receipt on the ground. It lists a very specific assortment of things: a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of water, some lube, and a teddy bear. It must be Valentine’s Day somewhere.

“You’re good, right?” you find yourself asking. “With… Kimi.”

Satoru hums. He’s avoiding your eyes too, lost his footing in this whole interaction just like you. “Yeah, we’re good,” he says, words leaving a pit in your stomach that you try to ignore. “And you’re good with him?”

There’s a venom in the way he says the last word. As if he means to say, you’re good with him—him of all people. The scourge of the earth, that’s probably all Satoru can think about when he even considers the idea of Sukuna.

You nod. “We’re good too.”

Satoru’s eyes search yours and you do your best to hide the fact that you’re lying. You already know what he wants to see. He wants to see that you’re miserable without him.

That you made a mistake.

He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he just clears his throat, looks away, and says, “Good.”

You pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. Suddenly, this whole thing feels like the kind of wrong it always was.

“You should go,” you say.

Satoru shakes his head, standing up and dragging you up with him. “I’m taking you home.”

“Satoru, it’s fine—”

But he won’t hear it. He’s already holding your hand and pulling you in the direction of your apartment building. As much as you want to, you don’t necessarily have the strength to argue with him, so you let him lead the way, one painful step after another.

When you get to the front of the building, Satoru drops your hand and motions for you to head inside. “Get some sleep.”

You turn to the door, then you hesitate, looking back at him. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, like he’s worried it might scare you away.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

His eyes widen just a bit as he tilts his head. “For what?”

You swallow. “For everything.”

You don’t expect him to smile, but he does. It’s all gentle and sweet. It’s exactly the way he’s always looked at you. The way he probably always will.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he says. “It’s just the way things are.”

notes. if there’s one thing i know about me when i’m writing my love triangle fics, it’s that i refuse to let either side go down without a fight 😌

ALSO FINAL REMINDER THAT THIS SERIES HAS SMUT, so minors sincerely fuck off please, i'm not responsible for what you consume online.

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 days

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AITA for intentionally giving someone bedbugs?

So, a few years ago, I (17 at the time) got bedbugs. I'm still not sure where from because it was only me who had them. Maybe from visiting a friend's house, maybe from the hotel I went to for a convention, or maybe I was just unlucky and picked them up off someone in public. Regardless, I had bedbugs and was the only one in my house that did. Because of my relationship with my parents and a very intense fear of getting in trouble, I was convinced I'd be scolded for having them/seen as gross, so I didn't tell anyone I had them. I just killed them on sight and every other day used the vacuum on every side of my mattress.

Now, while this was happening, my parents were arranging for a family friend's daughter "K" (15 at the time) to move in with us. Her and I really didn't get along. She was generally rude to me, shittalked my little sister constantly. My friend had told her about something that happened between me and a family member where I was abused, something that I didn't tell the rest of our family, and K was threatening to tell them about it. The issue is this would cause a LOT of unrest and stress on my family that I thought would be worse than keeping the event a secret, so I told her not to. She said she wouldn't, and then went back on that and told my parents anyways. I barely managed to convince them she got it mixed up with something else that happened, and everything was mostly fine.

Anyways, point is, I REALLY did not like K. She was moving in with us because her parents are, frankly, terrible people and don't really take proper care of her. So, my parents wanted to give her a better environment for a little while. I wanted to give her a chance because I knew she didn't have the best background or anything, even if I didn't like her.

She got here and didn't have a bed get (we set up an air mattress and the plan was to get a new bed for me and give my old one to her since it was still a really good bed, but I was due for a new one because of growing). I was trying to figure out how to come clean about the bedbugs before the switch.

That is, until she started being a jerk while at our house. She was stealing from the fridge and then blaming it on me. She was lying to my parents and sneaking out. She was lying ABOUT me and my parents to hers, telling them and her friends that we were abusing and neglecting her. She cut the screen of the guest room window to sneak a boy into our house in the middle of the night. She refused to help me and my sister with chores, which got ALL of us into trouble when they didn't get done.

I don't know if it was just the cumulative stress of the situation, school, and the bedbugs or if I just really felt like being terrible, but I didn't tell anyone about the bedbugs.

Then, we put my old bed in the guest room, and I got a new bed after a while. She started getting bug bites and after maybe two weeks my parents found out about the bed bugs. We deep-cleaned the house and had to get rid of the whole bed set.

To this day, my family believes K brought the bedbugs because of her home situation. I have only told a few of my friends about this. In hindsight, I feel bad because bedbugs are terrible and I made it seem like she'd brought them herself. I'm conflicted because I generally feel guilty over lying about it, but I also feel a little justified for my little bit of revenge. AITA??

#aita #am i the asshole

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temilyrights · 2 days

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revelation

Summary: Emily Prentiss x GN!Reader. Spencer helps you come to the realisation that maybe you've been looking in the wrong place for happy ever after all this time, and the person of your dreams is right in front of your eyes.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: References to drinking alcohol, slight sexuality panic.

A/N: hi it's been a year and a half since i posted anything but i read a half finished fic and suddenly got inspiration?! anyway i've missed you all and i hope you enjoy <3 (my one emily gif because i've lost all my gifs :D i want to cry!!)

How were you meant to know? Sure, you’d watched the movies and heard the songs just like everyone else, but no one had explained to you what it felt like.

Plus, it wasn’t as if the movies were great demonstrations. They were always so dramatic, with tears and rain and running through airports.

Spencer was the one, out of everyone, to point it out in the end.

The whole team was gathered in JJ’s garden, a family event to mark the beginning of summer. Will and Hotch were grilling food on the BBQ, while JJ handed out alcohol that Rossi consumed generously, the kids were playing on Henry’s swing set, and Penelope, Derek, and Emily all spoke boisterously, their voices and laughter filling the garden.

You stood to the side with Spencer, watching in bemusement. You had no idea what they were saying as they shouted excitedly at each other, but Emily was grinning, her cheeks flushed, and looking more carefree than you had seen her in a long time. She was wearing a gorgeous blue vest top and jeans. You loved the top on her, it made her glow, complementing her skin and hair in a way that you couldn’t put accurately into words.

Your heart stuttered, something that had been happening with increasing frequency recently, but you hadn’t given it much thought.

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer said abruptly as his fingers drummed against the side of the cider bottle in his hand.

You turned slightly to look at him, your brows furrowed at his thoughtful expression. You nodded, “Of course.”

“Why—" He hesitates. You smile reassuringly at him and he takes a breath before continuing, “It’s not really my business, but I’ve watched the two of you and I guess I'm just confused as to why you’re not dating.”

Your eyes widen in surprise but he continues.

“I thought maybe you two were just keeping it a secret from the team, but it’s been years and neither of you have said anything, plus Emily gets this sad look in her eyes sometimes and I think if you were together she wouldn’t, and—”

“Me and Emily?” You stammer, “Why would you think…Emily and I-”

Spencer’s brows shoot up.

“She’s one of my closest friends. I don’t…I’m not…”

Your heart beat speeds up and you tug on the collar of your shirt to cool yourself down.

You didn’t understand, Emily was your best friend. You knew she was a lesbian but you weren’t. You liked men.

“But you don’t look at the rest of us the way you look at Emily.” Spencer says softly. “You look at her like she’s the sun. Like the world turns because of her.”

You shake your head.

No.

“You love her.”

No. No. No.

You didn’t. You’d know if you were in love, and okay, so maybe you’d never been in love before but loving a woman had never once crossed your mind. It’s not like you were against it, you'd just never thought about it. Why would you? You dated men.

…you dated men and felt very little. Your relationships have always been short, and when the men would finally leave you’d feel nothing but relief as if the relationships were draining the happiness out of you.

But you’d know if you’d like women, surely? Sure, Emily made your heart clench and your stomach swirl. Sure, every time you saw her you’d smile wider and maybe you thought about her often but that’s what friendship was, right?

You gulp.

Spencer and Penelope were also your close friends, and you did think of them often and enjoy their company but it was different.

You’d set Penelope up on a date with your friend just like week, but last month there’d been a detective flirting with Emily and you’d been in a terrible mood the entire time. The team had smirked and you hadn’t understood, only thought how unprofessional the detective was being and oh, oh.

oh.

You loved her.

You didn’t know.

You really didn’t know.

No one had told you that this is what it felt like. You hadn’t known.

A hand on your arm jolts you, and brings Emily’s concerned face into focus. “Hey, are you okay?” She asks, brows drawn together.

A couple of tears had made their way down your cheeks without your permission. Embarrassment burns through you and all that comes out of your mouth is an urgent, “I didn’t know.”

Her frown only depends, rightfully confused, and you don’t know what to say. Too many thoughts rushing through your brain all at once.

Spencer and Derek stand together a few steps away, whispering hurriedly to each other. You catch your name and Spencer’s worried, “I didn’t think this would be the reaction.” Emily is only focused on you, and doesn’t seem to notice their conversation.

“What do you need?” She asks, hand still touching your arm and it’s all too much.

You shake your head, stepping away from the hand that burns your skin. “I just need a minute.” You say, already walking away and into the house where the world is a little bit quieter and there are no watchful eyes.

You wipe away the tears and take deep steadying breaths as your heart beat slows down.

You find a glass and fill it with water with shaky hands. You had no idea what happened to your cider.

You lift the glass to your lips and take a couple of sips, feeling yourself steady even more as you focus on simple actions. You sense when Emily enters the room, able to pinpoint the tread of her boots against the others with ease, and really how had this ever come as a surprise to you?

How had you failed to notice something so glaringly obvious? Emily Prentiss. How many years have you wasted failing to notice her? Going on dates with meaningless men, running yourself in circles and feeling guilty for not feeling enough when that woman makes you feel everything.

And you weren’t going to waste another minute.

Your shoulders set as you come to your decision and you place the empty glass of water down on the counter. Emily, equally as tuned to you, notices the change in your stance and from the other side of the room asks, “Ready to talk about what happened outside?”

You turn around to face her, and your breath catches in your throat slightly. Wow.

The sun shining in through the window is lighting up half her face, making her dark eyes sparkle more than normal, and bringing out the silver tones in her raven hair.

“Y/N?” She prompts, brows drawing back together in concern as she approaches you.

You shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. “We can talk about what happened outside another time. I actually have something else I need to ask you.”

Emily’s head tilts slightly, confusion masking her expression. “Okay?”

You blow out a breath, and gathering all your confidence, ask, “How would you like to go out to dinner with me Friday night?”

“Oh,” Emily smiles, shrugging, clearly still confused. “Yeah, of course, did you want to finally try that new sushi place?”

You sigh, “No Emily. For a date.”

Her eyes widen, “Oh, oh, uh.” There’s silence for a moment and then “Yes,” As a massive smile spreads across her face and a laugh ripples from her mouth. “What? Are you serious?”

You can’t help but laugh too, your cheeks warming. “Yes. I’d love to take you out for dinner, if you’re agreeable.”

Her eyes turn soft as her hand reaches out and squeezes your arm, causing butterflies in your stomach. “I would love that more than anything.”

“It’s a date then.” You smile, eyes dropping down briefly to her lips.

“It’s a date.” She agrees.

It may be only five days away but god you would do anything to bend time and move it closer. You’ve waited years, what’s another five days…

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @dalexandriag16 @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @alexblakeswife @quinnharkness @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu @strongsassysexysloane (i have you all listed as being on my taglist but i know its been over a year so if you wanna be removed pls just message me/fill out the form linked on my masterlist and i can take you off <3)

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminal minds #gn!reader #no pronouns used #kt writes #fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #light angst #revelation #spencer reid #criminal minds evolution

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grimm-writings · 2 days

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HI IT'S EAVESDROP ANON YOU GAVE ME AN IDEA what if izutsumi and reader faced the succubi together, and izu sees that one of reader's succubi looks like chilchuck !! maybe she promises to keep it a secret, but also talks to reader about it? bonus points if izu and reader have a sort of unspoken mother/daughter relationship :')

to the grave

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader, izutsumi & reader

…tags! headcanon format, slight suggestive points, motherly reader

…wc! 623

…notes! give it up for One Whole Request Complete omfg. sorry for how short it is eavesdrop anon it’s been a rough few weeks for me 🫶 this is absolutely not my best work, but i did what i could!

“Come on… I know you always thought about how I’d look underneath you.”

Hearing the words come from his mouth renders you still. It’s his face, his voice, yet completely wrong.

You had thought he had somehow recovered and came back to help you, but of course it isn’t as easy as it appeared.

You’re lucky to have Izutsumi with you. If it weren’t for her pushing you out of the way to claw at the succubus, you probably would have dropped all pretence and leaned down to where you had Chilchuck – or the succubus, rather – pinned to the floor to kiss.

Still, you can’t miss the look of absolute disbelief she gives you.

Silence fills the air as the succubus is reduced to nothing more than slob on the floor. You refuse to look at what, to you, is eerily similar to Chilchuck’s visage. Disturbingly so. For just a second, you consider reaching out to it (him?) again. However, Izutsumi is quick to swat you away. “Hey, we have a mob incoming,” she tells you. You are about to retort, interrogating if she even felt remorse for hurting someone that looks like your ally, but Izutsumi’s quick to interrupt. “We’ll discuss this later.” She leaves your side. Preparing your weapon with a deep breath, you prepare to fight off the waves of succubi ahead.

It’s only when you and Izutsumi assemble all the bodies of your allies does she finally speak up.

She really isn’t interested in the ‘hot gossip’ like Marcille would be. In her own rough way, Izutsumi is more just expressing worry for you.

She doesn’t overall react to the fact it’s Chilchuck that you saw. It was just sort of an “Oh!” before she remembered that this succubus will steal your life force.

“So, you just wanted to protect me?” At your conclusion, Izutsumi growls. She faces away from you as she drags over a succubus to drain into Senshi’s pot. “When you put it like that,” she grumbles, “it makes it sound all virtuous and sappy.” You laugh, reaching over to pat Izutsumi’s head. “I appreciate it very much, thank you Izutsumi.” Maybe it’s the fact she just had to confront this ‘mother’ the succubi took the form of, but the cat girl feels at ease when you show affection to her. She sighs, giving up on the argument quicker than she normally would.

That is to say… she wouldn’t not tease you.

She’d hand you some of the milk, poured into a bowl. “Here, for Chilchuck.”

Your face contorts in confusion. “Why me?”

“So you can get all close and intimate and stuff.”

“Izutsumi.”

She wants to support you both! She just… doesn’t really care.

The party has woken up, and by now Marcille has spoken up, “what were your succubi like? Laios? Oh, what about yours?” She turns to you, her green eyes glimmering with curiosity. Cheeks and tip of her ears flushed, it’s hard to miss what exactly she’s on about. You sheepishly laugh anyway, your mind recalling the lowered eyelids, the words spoken to you by the succubus. “I don’t know if I…” “Hey, don’t pressure her to say things like that.” Chilchuck’s voice cuts through the air, and makes you jump. He’s at your side, shooing Marcille away. “That stuff’s usually private for a reason. If she wants to say, she will.” It doesn’t go unnoticed how Chilchuck doesn’t say a word when Marcille instead asks Laios for details on his succubus, though. Though you should be glad Izutsumi isn’t awake to see this. If she was, she’d be rolling her eyes and bemoaning how nauseating the pining was to herself. So, maybe taking things to the grave is for the better.

#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #izutsumi #izutsumi imagines #this is so crap i'm sorry folks </3

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ladykailitha · 2 days

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Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 8

Hello! It does look like there is only one more chapter to write on Paper Hearts so yay!!! I'm not sure how much longer Sweet Home Indiana is but it's nearing it's end too.

Steve is never going to go to another party after this, Eddie gets book two of the Boy with a Bat, and they have a frank discussion about how Eddie gets paid for his less than legal side gig.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

trigger warning: homophobic language by an OC.

****

At least the swim team knew to how to throw a party. Lyle was hosting and even though his family wasn’t well off, not like Steve’s parents, there was still enough room for the whole team and a few of their friends to have a good time.

Granted there wasn’t any booze, not openly anyway, but there were ice chest after ice chest of canned sodas. And all kinds, too. Steve was on his third Coke and had already sussed out the dude with the beer and was working his way over.

Going right up to the guy was asking for trouble that neither of them wanted.

The music wasn’t too loud, but you could dance to it in the main part of the house. People were actually laughing and having fun.

Which really should have been Steve’s cue. The universe was out to get him and wouldn’t let him have a moment’s peace.

He had almost reached the guy with the beer when Ezra blocked his path.

“Hey, Steve,” he greeted syrupy sweet. “I’m so glad you made it out. I wasn’t sure if you would come without Eddie Munson.”

Steve frowned and tried to move around his co-captain. “I go lots of places without Eddie. I went to nationals without him, didn’t I?”

Ezra put his hand on Steve’s chest to stop him. “Sure you did, but we didn’t win nationals now, did we?”

Steve looked down at the hand on his chest. “We swam our hearts man, the other teams were just better. Hell, that team from Georgia was on fire.”

Ezra snorted and rolled his eyes. “They only got where they were because they were black. They didn’t have any real talent. Not like us. Not like you and me, Steve.”

“Are you saying Lyle and Nick held us back?” he asked with his brow furrowing deeper in his confusion.

“We’ve always known that Lyle is a strong swimmer and not a fast one,” Ezra moaned waving the drink in his other hand around. “But he’s all this shit town has on offer.”

Steve gently pushed Ezra off of him. “Hey, how about not talking shit about the actual host, man.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he huffed. “That’s not even why I’m over here. I’m here to warn you about Munson.”

And there it was. Everyone in his life had felt the need at some point in the last six months to warn him off the super senior.

The other boy leaned in close, his lips a snarl. “He’s a queer, a little faggot boy,” he hissed, the spit landing on Steve’s face. “It’s the town’s worst kept secret.”

Ice slid down Steve’s spine. Oh shit. Of all the places he thought the other co-captain was going to go, that was not it. Drugs. DND. The ranting on table tops. All that slid away to sheer terror.

“And you better not bend over in the showers,” Ezra continued, “a pretty thing like you would just be his type.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that if you can’t pay for your weed,” Ezra sneered, “that he’s willing to take a blowjob as payment instead.” He leaned further into Steve’s space, so that they were almost touching, the stench of weed radiating off the other boy in waves. “I saw Harry Masters sucking him off for a gram of the good stuff.”

Steve stomach lurched and swooped, bile rising up in his throat. Harry Masters was on the baseball team. He was tall, good looking, with that devil may care charm of Rob Lowe. Looked like him, too.

“What he does or doesn’t do doesn’t effect me, man,” he said, trying to aim for nonchalant and missing by a mile.

Ezra laughed in his face.

“Dude,” he cackled, “if you didn’t want people to think you’re down bad for ‘the Freak’ maybe rein in the eye fucking. I’ve seen the way you look at him and it makes me sick.”

That was when Steve got it. He had been wondering what the hell this conversation was.

“Oh my god!” he laughed. “Fuck, man, you were scaring me for a second there. You’re just jealous I don’t have the hots for you.”

Ezra pushed him. “The fuck I do, Harrington!”

“No, no!” Steve crowed. “I’ve got it all figured it out. All the times I caught you staring at me, all the times I felt someone watching me, all the times you’d try to keep me late after practice. You wanted me all to yourself.”

His co-captain turned purple with rage and swung at Steve, but before he could even flinch, there was someone at his side, holding Ezra’s wrist to keep the hit from even going anywhere near Steve’s face.

“Eddie!” Steve breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie smiled at him with that soft dimpled grin Steve loved. “Hey ya, Stevie. I was just plying my wares when I heard the commotion and came over to make sure you were all right.”

“So you are my good luck charm,” Steve said brightly.

Ezra wrenched his arm out of Eddie’s hand. “This doesn’t concern you, Freak!”

Eddie leaned in close and cocked his head to the side. “It does, because you were talking shit about me and Stevie, here. And as Stevie’s good friend, I’mma gonna come to his rescue. Now, you’re going to skedaddle on home and sleep all this off.”

Ezra spat in his face. “Or what?”

The older teen just smiled menacingly. “Or else that gram you smoked will be the last you ever smoke, because I’ll report to you for doping for matches.”

Ezra paled and he gulped. “You can’t do that! I’ve never done anything but weed.”

“That’s true,” Eddie admitted. “But they’d have to do this big investigation and your name would be dragged through the mud. Or you could toddle off and go to college and leave this town in your rearview mirror.”

Ezra turned on his heel and ran out of the house as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Steve shook his head. “You do know this is where all the allegations about you being a devil worshiping cult leader come from, right?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “They can think all they want.”

Eddie and Steve talked about what Ezra had said about how people make payments for their weed.

“I won’t deny that people have offer to blow me or even have sex with me in exchange for drugs,” Eddie said as they lay curled up on his bed. “But I’ve never taken anybody up on that.”

Steve twisted his head to look up at his boyfriend. “I can’t say I’m not pleased to hear that, but is there a reason why?”

“Several,” he admitted pulling Steve in closer. “One is that there is an actual fucking pandemic going on regarding gay men, and I wouldn’t trust those assholes even with a condoms. Another is that if I say yes to one, then I’ve got to say yes to next guy. And as my supplier wants actual cash for his product, blow jobs aren’t currency in any country I know of. And despite what Ezra said, most of the people offering aren’t men.”

Steve hummed as he snuggled under Eddie’s chin. “I can see that. Any other reasons why you won’t?”

“Does having a super hot boyfriend count?” he chuckled.

Steve kissed the underside of his jaw. “That’s a very good reason.” His hand slipped down his boyfriend’s side and to his belt. “A super hot boyfriend who is very grateful for the rescue.”

Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers ghosted over his zipper. “Yeah and how are you going to show that gratitude?”

Steve slid down Eddie body and undid his belt. “I was thinking it was such a shame you didn’t get those blow jobs when your cock is so delectable.”

Eddie gasped and threw back his head as his super hot boyfriend’s breath felt hot on the front of his boxers. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

And Steve spent their evening doing just that.

Steve fidgeted nervously at Eddie’s locker after school. He had finished the most recent comic with only a week of school to spare. He had made sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t staying after school for any reason so they didn’t see him make the hand off. He knew he should have just done it at the trailer, but with him cutting it so fine before the end of the year, he didn’t want to make Jeff and the others wait for it.

Eddie loped over to his boyfriend and looked around. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He thrust the comic at Eddie, his eyes downcast. “It’s the most recent comic. There’s an explanation like before. But please don’t let people see that part.”

Eddie cradled the comic to his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m guessing this means you aren’t coming over tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas wants to go see the latest Bond film, but his friends don’t want to go with him...”

“So you offered to take him,” Eddie finished. “That’s sweet of you.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “His parents think I’m taking him to ‘Meet the Littles’ or some shit like that.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that’s more like the Steve Harrington I know and love.”

“I’ll call when I get home, though...” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Eddie murmured. “Well talk then.”

This time Eddie went straight to the back page to read the explanation first.

“Hey, Eds,

Again there are parts in between this, parts that don’t include me, that I’ll some day tell you all about. But I’m focusing on the parts I was part of. This time it all started with what the kids thought was a new species of lizard and turned out to be the beginning stages of an Upside Down monster. One they they dubbed the demodog.

I can just picture you frowning as you try to remember where you heard that from and the answer is you heard it from me. You asked me what it was and I told you it from one of their game thingies, but that’s only part of it. These demodogs have flower faces and run on four legs. They are part of a hive mind that allows them to communicate with each other.

Dustin had taken one of these things home and it ate his cat. His cat. You can be disgusted, I know I was. He had originally gone to Nancy’s for help but she had gone off with Jonathan about something related to Barb Holland. This was right after our fight at the Halloween party.

I was on my way with roses to apologize to her, when he intercepted me. And the rest is as they say is history. I would do anything for that kid now.

The other players are Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I don’t know if you need to know that, but I feel like you have to understand that for the rest of it to make sense.

I have so many tales to tell you but I can’t because it could get you hurt and that is the last thing I want to do.

Also, (blurred words) show you all the times I was brave, that I did the (more blurred words) when it came (blurred words) because I love you so much and (blurred words again) less of me.

Love,

Your Stevie”

Eddie hated how easy Steve had pegged him for frowning at the name like he said he would or how he knew he would be disgusted at the poor cat. He stared at the blurred words for a moment before his own eyes welled up.

Steve had tried writing over the parts with what were clearly tear drops but all it had done was make it worse. Why he didn’t just write again, Eddie didn’t know.

But Eddie could now make out the words, “Also, I wanted to show you all the times I was brave, that I did the right thing when it came to it, because I love you so much and I didn’t want you thinking less of me.”

He flipped back to the beginning and started reading. It was thrilling and exciting. That was if you didn’t know it really happened. And happened to the sweetest boy he had the privilege of knowing.

He wiped away his tears and made a promise to whatever it took to protect this boy with every fiber of his being. Because by god, someone had to.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

@messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce

@acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras @ravenfrog

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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physalian · 2 days

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How to Make Clean Romance Entertaining

@bananasugarwarrior ask and you shall receive

As an ace/arospec, I approach writing romance very differently than many authors and this is kind of my wish-fulfillment list more than anything.

Biggest detractor of implying anything in scenes you didn’t write: You don’t have those scenes to explore character development. I touched on this in What No One Tells You About Writing #6 and the problem I ran into a few times when writing ENNS and other works is that if you fade to black, you can’t continue important conversation or an exploration of boundaries, or fluffy new emotions, if they’d otherwise be in those missing scenes. Sex scenes are, unfortunately, prime real estate for some rich character development.

So you have to work all that rich character development around it. It’s up to you where you want to draw the line of “use your imagination” but everything up to the missing smut, and after, remains more prime real estate. You have loads of other options to explore clean intimacy and some I borrowed from this list that I reblogged about ways to show non-sexual intimacy between characters.

There’s more to a relationship to explore between your characters than just how good each other is in the bedroom. Here’s a few suggestions:

Tragic Backstory stuff and emotional boundaries

One teaching the other a niche or important skill to succeed/survive

A common physical threat, like monetary problems, job insecurity, sickness, or an actual challenge/quest/adventure/mission

A common emotional threat, like a lack of communication, or exercising an anxiety or phobia, or issues over speaking their minds

A common goal: Marriage, children, a new car or home, competing for joint acceptance into a team/group/club/prize competition

There’s also plenty for your love interests to think about their significant others aside from how sexy they are and how badly they want to get in their pants.

Introvert A can love how much B is an extrovert, or vice versa

A loves that B is good with animals, or children, the elderly, etc

A can love B’s skill and passion for their hobbies or a movement they believe in, or their stances on morality and the actions they take to back it up

A can love B’s skill as a teacher, their patience, kindness, and understanding

A can love B’s relationships with their friends and family, their maturity (or lack thereof), their work ethic

A can love B’s quirks and tics, like how they organize things or if they sing in the shower or how they dance when they’re listening to headphones

Point being:

And take this with a grain of biased salt because I’m ace and think sex is superfluous anyway: If you can’t write your characters in love with each other without sex, I won’t believe they’re in love with sex. Fiction, for me, that takes the narrative shortcut of “these two are the main couple of course they’re going to get together, I don’t have to do any work on writing why they’re in love you just came here for sex” annoy me, and quite a lot of other people, too, if the amount of gay ships that ignore the canon hetero couple are anything to go by.

The arc of their relationship doesn’t have to culminate in sex. Their arc should be specific to what these two characters want to achieve out of a romantic relationship. For a lot of people, that’s sex, but for others, maybe it’s just someone to cuddle on the couch with and watch movies, or someone they can finally trust and let in and be emotionally vulnerable with. Someone they can explore the town with, or travel, or take to dinner. Someone who doesn’t belittle them or laugh at them or disregard their interests.

Substitute relationship climaxes other than sex:

A finally trusts B with a secret they’ve been hiding for fear of ridicule, and B accepts them wholeheartedly (not Liar Revealed)

A and B finally perfect some routine they’ve been slaving over for months (like a dance or if they’re combat partners, a difficult maneuver)

A has been in love, but in doubt, and finally understands that B is The One when B is the only one to show up for A’s big speech/recital/presentation/gallery that no one else cares about

A has never let themselves be in love and it’s something wholly unspectacular that completely bowls them over with an epiphany

A is touch-averse and their biggest leap into physical intimacy is a huge hug, and B can’t be prouder of them

A and B narrowly survive some dangerous situation and have a serious realignment of priorities and newfound mad respect for each other

Actually, circling back to the whole “gay ships that ignore the canon hetero couple” thing:

This has been said before but if you’re looking for how to write a romantic relationship without sex, look no further than the male leads of many mainstream pieces of pop culture. Here, the presumption of romance isn’t built in, thus the writer has to actually put in effort to make these two characters like and respect each other, and give them things to talk about that isn’t just flirting. That’s what makes them feel more believable than the main man’s relationship with the cardboard lady lead.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing a book #writing tools #writing #writeblr #character development #writing romance #aro/ace

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