#also i might finish this later if i feel like it
Text
scorch & magic
you're a little embarrassed about one of your interests, but Eddie puts your mind at ease.
Contains: Eddie x Reader, fluff, Beanie Babies, reader collects stuffed animals and is a little embarrassed about it, but of course Eddie doesn't care. No description of reader's appearance, no use of y/n, pet names but no specific pronouns.
Warnings: None! Pure, absolutely SFW fluff.
Word Count: ~2,100
NEVERMIND ME I AM BEING SILLY AND SELF-INDULGENT AGAIN! here's the beanie baby fic no one asked for. this one goes out to all my fellow adult plushie collectors. inspired by this post and this post. and also this post.
“That’s cute.”
Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up from the jewelry box sitting on your dresser, fingers halting in the middle of their search for your missing earring.
Eddie’s eyes are trained on the faded armchair tucked away in the corner of your room. It’s an old thing, a relic from your parents’ house, the style a tad dated for your taste — not to mention that the earth-toned plaid doesn’t really match anything else in your bedroom, and if you had money to spare on some re-upholstery work, you would. But it’s not the ugliness of the furniture that causes the squirm of embarrassment in your belly.
It’s the giant pile of stuffed animals that are stacked precariously on the cushion that makes you feel just the tiniest bit mortified.
“Oh, that’s just, um…” you trail off uncertainly, flustered at being caught with a hoard of children’s toys in your adult bedroom. “I’ve had them for a long time.” It’s not a total lie; a good number of them were acquired during your childhood, but the truth is, you’re actually an avid collector. You can’t help it — if you’re out shopping somewhere, and you happen to see something cute and soft and cuddly that’s on sale…well, why shouldn’t you buy it? You’re grown. You can do whatever you like.
At least, that’s what you usually tell yourself. But it’s harder to hold on to that rationale in the face of your new, intimidating, metalhead boyfriend.
Eddie stalks over to the chair to take a closer look. Amusement pulls the corners of his lips up, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. He selects one of your oldest and most favorite toys, a faded pink teddy bear with a rattle encased in its round little body that sounds when he picks it up. It looks funny in his rough hand, at total odds with the bulky silver rings and dark ink.
“I’ve had that since I was a baby,” you tell him quickly, now searching for your elusive earring with a little more urgency. When Eddie came to pick you up for your date, you asked him to wait in the living room while you finished getting ready, but he followed you in here anyway — this is the first time he’s set foot in your bedroom.
You had hoped to find a good hiding spot for all your little guys before that happened. Because you could imagine how someone like Eddie — with all his leather and chains and tattoos — would react to such a hobby. He might stifle his laughter on your behalf, if he decided to be kind. Or he might go so far as to sneer openly at them, put off by his partner engaging in something that others tend to see as so…juvenile.
Too late to do anything about it now, though.
“There’s a lot of them,” he muses, setting the bear down in favor of a small white mouse with brown whiskers and large teeth.
Finally you manage to pick out the matching stud, and poke it through your earlobe. Struggling to push the back into place, you tell him, “I…wasn’t much for Barbies as a kid.” Jewelry secured, you spin on your heel and edge towards the door. “Okay! Are you ready to go?
Eddie puts your mouse back in its place — snug on the lap of another, bigger teddy — and shrugs, still looking far too entertained by the plushie collection for your liking. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Is he smiling or smirking?
You grab his hand and lead him out of the room.
A week later, the topic comes up again when you’re out running errands together. Eddie asked you to tag along while he bought some things for Wayne’s upcoming birthday, so you’re ambling through the shop in search of party supplies. As he pushes the shopping cart down the card aisle, intent on purchasing a goofy note for his uncle — something with googly eyes that sings and has a terrible pun written inside — a display rack near the envelopes catches his eye:
Beanie Babies.
“Hey,” he suddenly pats your back to grab your attention, “do you have any of those?”
You look to where he’s pointing. “Oh!” Those are new. Teeny and understuffed, but realistically cute, with little eyes and —
You shake your head, playing it cool. “No, I don’t,” you answer with as much nonchalance as you can muster.
Eddie gives you a half-smile, and again, you can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not. “You wanna check ‘em out?”
You shake your head, and attempt to twist your face into the most casual expression possible. “Oh, that’s okay. Like I said, most of the ones I have are from when I was a kid, anyway, I-I don’t really buy them anymore. Honestly, the only reason they’re even out is because I haven’t found a good place to put them yet. Or, actually, I’ve been meaning to donate a lot of them.”
Eddie simply listens while you ramble, totally impassive. When you’re finished, he asks, “Even the ones you keep on your bed, that you clearly still sleep with?”
You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t respond. Eddie cracks a smile.
“Are you embarrassed about your stuffed animals?”
Deny, deny, deny. “...no.”
Eddie laughs, and rests both his hands on your shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s fine,” he promises. “I told you, it’s cute.”
You stare at the floor. “You don’t think it’s like, too babyish or something?” you ask him in a small voice.
Eddie scoffs. “No, of course not. Not if it’s something that makes you happy.” He steers you towards the table with these Beanie Babies, and wraps an arm around your waist. “C’mon, pick one out. It’s on me.”
You glance at him, eyes wide. “Really?”
He nods. “Of course. My treat.”
Hesitantly, you lean in to peruse your options. It’s a little overwhelming. There are bears of all colors, with satin ribbons tied around their necks; some classic farm animals, and more exotic ones, too, like elephants and monkeys; there are even a number of tie-dyed reptiles and sea critters.
You give Eddie an awed look, unsure of how to narrow it down. He smiles encouragingly. “Whatever you want.”
You start to sort through them, and pick them up one at a time to examine them thoroughly. You weigh them in your hands, and run the pads of your fingers along the fabric, enjoying how soft and pliant they are, while Eddie watches you with interest. Some part of you understands that you’re taking way too long, and maybe you’re even being kind of weird about it, but mostly, you’re caught up in the sensation of how these little friends feel when you hold them. It’s very soothing.
“Hmmm,” you hum quietly, picking up a magenta platypus, laying her flat in your palm.
Eddie rubs your lower back with a firm hand. “So, what are we thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet…” You set the platypus back down, and when you move to pick up a rainbow-striped worm, you pause. A flash of white-pink light catches your eye; you snake a hand deep into the plush pile, chasing the miniscule scrap of iridescent fabric, barely visible amongst the other toys.
You come up with a perfect, snow-white dragon, with shiny wings and pink stitching. Eddie lets out a low whistle.
“I think that’s a winner, babe.”
You turn to him and grin, cheeks feeling warm. “I think so, too.”
The white tag on the bottom, along with a tiny red heart, reads: Magic.
Eddie comes home with you later that night. You perch the new dragon proudly on the edge of your dresser, as opposed to the chair with all the others — you feel she deserves her own special place, being a present from Eddie.
While you position her just right, Eddie flops down onto the mattress and curls around the stuffed bunny you sleep with every night, closing his eyes. He looks so out of place — this metalhead with his heavy combat boots still on, nestled serenely amongst your silk pillows, cuddling with your various teddies.
“Hey,” you scold him playfully. “If you’re spending the night, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping in the middle of the bed like that.”
Eddie lets out an exaggerated sigh in response, but doesn’t open his eyes.
You cross the room, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor. You climb onto the bed and drape your body over his, so you’re laying flat on top of him. Purposefully, you let your knees squish into his legs as you get situated, but he still doesn’t move.
Giving in, you let yourself slump over him, and your head falls into the crook of his neck. Nosing into his curls, you press a small kiss to the pale skin underneath his ear. “Thank you for my gift,” you mumble against him.
He reaches one arm behind him, hand landing on your thigh; he gives it an affectionate squeeze. “You’re welcome.”
Three years pass, and Magic the Dragon remains in your possession all that time. She went from your original apartment to the next one, and then to the house you live in now, which you share with Eddie. She’s still in her place of honor on the bedroom dresser.
The Beanie Baby craze that’s occurred since he bought her for you was truly something to behold (personally, you couldn’t really get into all that mess — the competition gave you far too much anxiety). Both of you shook your heads in disbelief at the utter chaos created by these toys, but it also made you feel a sort of triumph, in a way; you had one of them, but it wasn’t an investment, or some wild fad you had fallen into.
It was a token of Eddie’s love.
At the time, you didn’t quite make this connection. Your relationship was too green, too new for either of you to throw the word love around casually, or attribute grand feelings to small gestures. But, as Magic’s presence continued to stand the test of time, you started to see the gift for what it really was.
It was Eddie, perceptive Eddie, sensing your insecurity and going out of his way to put your mind at ease. He was reassuring you. It was his way of letting you know that he understood this part of you — however inconsequential that part may be — and that he accepted it.
And he would do this many, many times over, with every single part of yourself that you revealed to him. And everytime you looked at that silly little thing on your dresser, you remembered.
So it seems only fitting that now, in the exact same store three years later, you find Magic’s counterpart in Scorch. Brown scales, red iridescent wings, with green spikes and forked tongue. He’s absolutely perfect.
You know exactly what to do. It’s time to return the favor.
Immediately, you drop him in your shopping basket and hurry on, eager to get home and show Eddie what you’ve found.
You burst through the front door and into the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. “Eddie!”
He’s making dinner, preoccupied with a pot on the stove. Still stirring whatever’s inside, Eddie looks back at you over his shoulder, and his face splits into a wide smile. “Hi, baby.”
“I have something for you!” you tell him in a singsong voice, sauntering over and wrapping your arms around his trim waist, the shopping bag hanging from the crook of your elbow.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
You release him and start rifling through the bag’s contents, while Eddie lays the spoon down and turns to face you in full.
Beaming, you fish out the small stuffed dragon and present it to him with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
Taking it in, Eddie lets out a loud laugh that reverberates around the kitchen. “Oh my God!”
You smile at him happily, and Eddie takes Scorch from you gingerly, looking delighted. “No way.”
“Yes, way. They’re gonna look so good together.”
And they do. Eddie places Scorch next to Magic, so they’re both perched on the edge of the dresser, facing the room. Then, thinking better of it, he turns them so that they face one another, snouts touching in a tiny dragon kiss.
Satisfied with the positioning, Eddie joins you where you sit at the edge of the bed. Looping an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you close to his side, and presses his lips to yours.
“Look at that. They’re just like us.”
if you actually read this then thank you that's sweet <3 lmao idk how this ended up being 2k words
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x gender neutral reader#eddie munson x gn!reader
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene: "hey, sister"
you know you never stood a chance series
deleted scene: hey, sister
series masterlist
Joel Miller x f!reader
Words: 4.6k
Summary: you and joel try to patch things up with ellie before the baby comes. this takes place before the epilogue but I recommend reading the epilogue first!
Note: posting this now as part of Moth & Birdee's Mother's Day Fic Challenge! This is the final deleted scene for the series. (also if the first bit seems familiar, I posted a snippet during febuwhump).
Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, terrible communication, makeup sex instead of communicating, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, brief Tommy & Maria cameos, baby used as a plot device, vague descriptions of childbirth (nothing graphic in any way), vague depictions of breastfeeding, pregnancy, postpartum depression, family trouble, joel and ellie aren't speaking, estranged family dynamics
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
Joel has the nerve to look sheepish when you storm into the house, door smacking against the drywall. You fumble when you try to grab for the edge of it, eventually grasping and slamming it closed.
“You lied to me,” you said, low and dangerous, heart thrumming with all you’ve been told. You clasp at your chest for a moment, sure that your hand will come back red.
You let the accusation hang, daring him to grab it and throw it aside.
But he doesn’t. He can’t. He knows he’s been flayed and left open to burn.
“I lied to everybody,” he says after minutes have crept by.
“You lied to me,” you snarl. The corner of your lip jerks, an involuntary sneer. You’d trained yourself to do it in the dingy mirror of your first Boston apartment, holding the other side down until you looked as nasty and tough as the rest of them.
It worked. It was just a twitch now, unstoppable, popping up when you needed it, whether or not you wanted it.
Oh, but you do right now. You want it. You want him to see the way you’re rethinking this whole fucking situation.
“I had to,” he says.
“Oh, fuck off. I trusted you.”
“I never asked ya to,” he snaps. There he goes. There’s the Joel you know and thought you loved.
The fight slips from your fists, unfurling and folding over your chest instead. “You’re right. You didn’t.”
He doesn’t stop you when you go upstairs, but oh, does he wish he had when you come back down a few minutes later. His brain almost doesn’t put it together; the sight of your backpack straps so incongruous with your life here in Jackson.
“What—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.
“Don’t. I’ll come back by in a few days. And you can think about if it was fuckin’ worth it, Joel.”
“Worth it to save her life?”
“For fucks sake, Joel, I’m not mad you did it! Jesus, is that what you think of me?”
You had been trying to keep quiet before, but that’s dead and buried. He raises his voice to match.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re thinkin’?”
“You’re supposed to talk to me, Joel! You’re supposed to tell me shit. You tell me when there’s chili at the hall, you tell me when Tommy has a stomachache, but you can’t fuckin’ tell me how close it came? Can’t tell me what you had to do to save that girl? To bring her home?”
It’s too late. He’s shut down; you can see it. “I ain’t sorry. About any of it,” he says, and it’s clear and crisp, but you feel like it filters in from across town, something too distant to be sure what you heard.
But you know.
“Figure out if it was worth it to lose both of us,” you snarl before you can stop. And it does exactly what you meant it to. It whips across his face like a snowball packed with ice.
His own sneer twitches to meet yours. You think you might burst if you stay there too long, held perfectly still between him and the door. Might spill more words you don’t want to watch him hear, might throw and shatter the vase on the foyer table, might break down into tears.
Part of you wants to break, to give in, to try to pull the confession from him and pray he didn’t mean it. That he wants you to trust him. That he is sorry.
But you leave, and when you hear the door slam after you’re down the road, you don’t turn back.
You don’t cry until he opens the door, brows knitted together in confusion.
“What’re you doin’ here this late?”
But your lip trembles. “Tommy—” you start, and it breaks into a crackling, shaky breath. “Did you know?”
Tommy pulls you in for a hug. “Shit,” he says quietly. “No. Just this morning, too. C’mon."
You’re reading in bed when you hear them.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She seemed awfully upset, and I think she’s already asleep.” Tommy’s voice carries easily up the stairs. He’s not a quiet kind of man.
“Jus’ let me talk to her for a minute,” Joel says.
You hold your place in the book with a finger shut between the pages, waiting to see who wins this round. It’s a toss-up, really, for who’ll crack. They’re both stubborn as all hell.
“I mean it, Joel,” Tommy says firmly but kindly. “She was cryin’ all evening and she just finally fell asleep.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel says. “Fine.”
You hear the slow creak of the door and heave a shaky sigh, unable to tell the difference between the relief and disappointment.
He had come looking for you. You hadn’t expected that, not really.
But of course, you don’t get to go Miller-free for the night. Tommy knocks shortly after.
“Hey,” he gives a weak half-smile. “So, how much of that did you hear?”
“All of it,” you admit.
“He seemed pretty upset,” Tommy says. He sits on the edge of the bed.
“Good,” you mutter, scowling.
“I just—look, I don’t want you to think I’m pickin’ teams. But y’all worked hard for what you’ve got. It’d be a shame if ya walked away from it.”
You sigh and lean back against the headboard. “I know. But he really hurt me this time. I trusted him.”
Tommy sighs. “I hear ya. I didn’t know, either. He really didn’t tell anybody. I think he was plannin’ on takin’ it to the grave.”
You know, because you know Joel. You know he didn’t want to put you in a hard place between him and Ellie. Didn’t want to ask you to shoulder his decision. And you know you’re going to forgive him. Maybe not today. But it’s already settling in your bones.
Joel meets you in the foyer. He must have heard you coming up the porch. You slip in and shut the door before just… standing there. Just as you had three days ago.
“Sweetheart,” Joel starts, and with it, takes all your resolve.
You sniffle.
“Don’t cry,” he pleads, but it just tips the tears over the crest of your eyes anyway.
You let him fold you into his arms, one hand cupping the back of your head to hold you against his chest. Your fingers twine into the soft green flannel, the lingering cinnamon and wood smoke as soothing as ever.
But as soon as you’ve pulled it together, you extract yourself. “We’re going to have to talk about it,” you say to the button on his breast pocket.
He tilts your chin up with two curled fingers. “I know. You gotta promise you’re gonna hear me out this time.”
You nod and before you can speak, he’s kissing you, one hand soft against your cheek.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, ya hear me?” he murmurs against your lips. “Don’t run away.”
“Don’t you do that to me again,” you retort, but there’s little fire behind it as you lean up to kiss him again.
He’s sweet from the honey he puts in your tea. He always tastes it before he gives it to you.
“Hang on, how’d you know I was coming home?”
He grimaces. “Didn’t.”
“But—“
“Shut up.” It’s not sharp, but embarrassed. His cheeks are a little flushed.
You can’t help the fond smile. “What a sap you are, Miller.”
He kisses you again, unable to stay parted for long. “M’serious,” he murmurs. “Don’t run away. Y’can be mad at me all you want, but do it here.”
“I am mad,” you say quietly.
“I know,” he says, pulling your head against his chest and holding it there under his wide palm. “I deserve it.”
“Yeah,” you nod, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re an ass.”
“M’your ass.”
“No, this is my ass,” you wiggle a little.
“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he gives it a hard smack, squeezing with his wide palm. “This is all mine. Said so yourself.”
It’s as if you blew out a candle, the way his eyes have gone dark and encompassing. You can’t help but moan a little, and his lips quirk up at the corner.
“Right?” he prompts, backing you over to the couch.
“Uh-huh,” you squeak as he lies you down, tugging your sweatpants down as he goes.
His fingers slide down and cup over your cunt, pushing your body close between his legs. “And this greedy little pussy is mine.” He wastes no time in pressing inside you, giving you no room or breath to adjust to his cock.
His hand slides back up to brush along the side of your breast. “Pretty tits just for me,” he murmurs in your ear, tweaking a nipple to hear you whine. His voice has gone low and rich, his Texas twang a little thicker.
His thumb rests on your lower lip. “Perfect, eager mouth.” He pulls his thumb away right as you try to suck on it and replaces it with his lips, tongue dipping in to taste you.
“Hmm? Anyone home?” he taunts.
The sound you make is more like a strangled balloon than an actual word, and he chuckles.
“See? I know what you need, sweetheart. All of you is mine,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling out torturously slow and pressing back in until your hips are flush.
“Fuck, Joel, please,” you whine. You want to be mad that he’s distracted you from being mad, but, well… it’s working.
The thick emotions of it all don’t leave so easily. Your throat is clogged with it, his breath is heavy with it, and the way he works at your clit is an apology on repeat.
Until it isn’t anymore. Until it’s less “I’m sorry” and more desperation. You’re writhing a little beneath him, the ache at a breaking point, pleading for him to push you over the edge he’s brought you to again and again and again.
“No,” he pants. “Not until you promise. Promise you won’t leave.”
“I’m not,” you nearly sob. “Joel.”
It’s the way you cry his name. He can’t keep pushing you; he pulls all the way out and drops to his knees on the living room floor, burying his face in your cunt with all the fervor he’s been fucking into you.
He goes straight for your clit, three fingers in your cunt, and wrings you dry over and over before he relents and plunges his cock back in you to the hilt, setting a punishing pace, though you aren’t sure which one of you is being punished by it.
Maybe both, but in reality, neither, since he comes deep inside you moments later.
It’s not the first time, but it is rare for him to slip up that way. Still, you think nothing of it, given how low the chances are.
Lulu is born in the peak of July. It’s hotter than hell and you’re glad that Ellie had gone with the other kids on the trip to the lake. It had been the reason you stayed behind, originally planning to go along with Maria and Alé.
Joel hadn’t wanted you to go at all. It wasn’t far and even though you weren’t due for another month, he didn’t like it.
The due date was kind of made up, though. It was really up to you and Joel counting on your fingers to see if you remembered the last time you had a period.
Not that your period was very consistent to begin with.
His eyebrows had climbed higher and higher as you went back a week at a time to see if either of you could associate an event with it, like if he had fucked you in the ass for a few days or something.
He had, but really, that wasn’t a great predictor, since he was still coming home from patrol riled up the way he used to in Boston. For the sake of your poor, well-loved cunt, you mixed it up a lot.
You waited another four weeks before going to see Alice at the clinic.
After she confirmed what you frankly already knew, you tried to talk to Ellie.
The first time you visited the shed, you almost chickened out, rocking back and forth on your heels while you waited outside. She cracked the door open, mouth twisted until she saw you.
“Hey!” She gave you a hug, and you held her as long as she allowed (which wasn’t long; she was a teenager, after all). “Wanna come in?”
“Sure, kiddo, I’d love to see what you’ve done with the place.”
She beams and lets you in, shutting the door behind her to keep out the late autumn breeze.
You’re not sure what you were expecting. You had feared something bare and cold, where she’d be lonely all winter. But the space is all Ellie. You look over, and she’s clearly bracing herself for your judgment.
“This is so cool,” you tell her, and she lights up. You drink in her toothy, genuine grin, and decide this is not the time.
“You think so?” she says.
“Kiddo, I would have killed to have a place like this when I was your age. I had a treehouse, but that was nothing compared to this. Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“I traded around town for it; you know I’ve been—” and she stops, smile gone. “Well. I guess you don’t know. I’ve been doing some jobs after school in exchange for cool stuff.”
She’s guarded again, maybe expecting you to tell her off or nag at her for not telling you.
“That’s great, kiddo. That was a clever idea. What kind of stuff have you been doing?”
You end up on the couch while she sits on her bed across the room. You don’t think the space is intentional, but you don’t want to cross it in case it is.
She tells you about babysitting and cleaning, helping other residents with their jobs in the gardens and the stables. She shows you some of her prizes as she goes, gushing over a thick astronomy textbook. It’s beyond your knowledge level, but she’s clearly been devouring every word. Its real value, she says, is that it was printed in 2003 for some college. But the textbooks they had in the QZ were from 2001.
“Did you know that after we discovered all the moons the other planets have—like did you know Jupiter has fifty moons? They told us it was 38—and then people were getting confused about our moon being the moon, so they started calling it Luna in all these research papers. It's all so fucking cool.”
“That’s incredible, Ell. I’m so proud of you.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Sometimes, you forget she’s still a teenager.
“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “Did you need something?”
“No. Just wanted to see you,” you lie.
It’s the wrong thing again.
“Did Joel make you come here?”
“He doesn’t even know I’m here.” That, at least, is the truth.
“Okay,” she says.
“I—” you start, not knowing what you’re going to say, but hoping your runaway tongue will do patchwork here. But she doesn’t let you get that far.
“Hey, so, I was actually going out when you got here, so.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry to have kept you.” You believe her about as much as she believed you a minute ago, but you’re not going to push. You get up, and she lets you give her a hug, but it’s not returned very enthusiastically this time. “It was nice to see you, kiddo.”
“Yeah, um, see you later.”
When she shuts the door behind you, it feels uncomfortably final.
You don’t try again for another month, when you have the excuse of Christmas to give you gumption.
When you knock, she’s slow to open. Her face is unreadable, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
“What?” she says.
You nearly shove the bundle in your arms at her. “Merry Christmas. I know it’s early, but it’s supposed to be real cold this week, and—”
Anything else you were about to word vomit catches in your throat while she opens the gift. You’re terrified she’ll reject it, reject you. You’ve been working on it for a while. Since before the fight, even, worried about her in that damn shed all winter.
This quilt is patchwork blues, different shades and patterns. Over top you’ve cut out and stitched the galaxy together for her. It’s maybe childish, but you don’t think she ever had a chance for many childish things. And it’s not nice, not like the ones they used to sell at Pottery Barn when you were a kid that your parents could never afford.
“You made this for me?” she says.
“Yeah, kiddo, of course. Sorry it’s not quite accurate, I—”
Her hug knocks the breath from you for a moment, but you hold her to you and try not to cry. It doesn’t last long, and you can see the way her conflicting feelings are making her uncomfortable. But she surprises you.
“Wanna come in?” she says.
“Oh, um. Maybe later, I’m-um, I’m on my way to dinner at Tommy’s. Do you, um. Do you want to come with us?”
The scowl is back. “You mean with you and Joel.” His name was a dirty word spat from her mouth.
“Well, yeah. We miss you, kiddo. I miss having everybody together.”
“He put you up to this.” It’s harsh and she knows it, sees the way you blink against the offense.
“I’m capable of doing things of my own accord. Is it so hard to believe that I want to see you?”
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“S’ok,” you say glumly. “I knew it was a long shot, I just—“ and you’re mortified to find tears burning at your waterlines, “just thought I’d ask anyway. M’sorry.” You had intended to ask, and Joel knew. You just wanted to tell her so badly.
You hug again before you leave, but you have to hide in the half bath when you get to Tommy and Maria’s to weep.
Joel slips in after a few minutes. He wraps you up in his arms while you try to smother the sounds of your broken heart.
“I know, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You tell Tommy and Maria after dinner. Tommy picks you up and swings you around in a hug, which makes Alé giggle.
You go home first, exhausted. Joel tries to insist on going with you, but you know he needs some time with Tommy. As much as he’s trying to share Sarah with you, this is a whole different rodeo.
The light is on in the shed when you get home. You hover on the porch, wobbling between your split instincts. In the end, you go to bed.
Winter passes quietly. The layers help keep your secret, but you know it’ll be harder come spring. When Maria tells you that Ellie stopped by to wish Alé an early happy birthday because she wasn’t coming to the party, you cracked again.
You pound on the door of the shed. She answers, guarded as always, and clearly surprised to find you there.
“Can I come in?” you blurt.
“Sure, yeah,” she says, and though she hesitates, she steps back to let you through.
It’s not a frigid day, as you head into spring, but you stay layered up in your winter gear. Your bump isn’t big by any means, but it’s unmistakably there. It could be passed off as weight gain, but Ellie isn’t stupid, and you aren’t about to insult her by pretending.
“Alé’s going to miss you at her party.”
Ellie shuts the door of the shed, but hovers there, arms crossed. “She’s turning three. She won’t remember.”
“You’re her family; you should be there.”
“You want her to see us fighting?”
“Ellie, please. Just come over, come have dinner. We can talk. All three of us.”
“No,” she snaps. “If all you’re going to do when you come over is try to get me to talk to Joel, stop coming.”
“I just want our family together.”
“I’m not coming over there to get lectured and have you do nothing but side with him like always. You’re too damn scared of him leaving again that you never side with me. Guess what? I can leave, too. Get out.”
“No, Ellie—”
“Just get out.”
“It’s not about him, just please give us a chance—”
She opens the door and stands there, not looking at you.
You hesitate when you reach her, but she flinches back, so you just go home.
When Lulu is born, the sun rages at the apex of the horizon. Joel sends one of the neighbors for Alice, and busies himself getting everything ready while you pace the length of the upstairs hall and breathe through the pain.
He’s filling the tub when he finds you with your elbows against the wall, head down, and teeth gritted. In an instant, he’s at your side, rubbing his hand over your lower back.
“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he says, as he always does. “What do you need?”
“Just you,” you whimper. “Need you with me.”
“Okay, sweetheart, I got ya.”
It’s far too soon to push, but he helps you into the tub anyway, hoping the cool water will help since you’re flushed and sweaty. He climbs in behind you, perched on the edge with arms wrapping around the top of your chest above your breasts. His lips press up and down your neck, and he takes a rag to wipe the sweat from your face.
That’s how Alice finds you, and she nods at Joel approvingly before telling you she’ll be in and out to check on you.
Between contractions, you slump back against Joel. Alice dropped water bottles off and he coaxes you to sip while you can.
When the time comes, you’re exhausted. You can tell Alice is worried that you won’t have the strength.
Joel isn’t, though. “You’re tough,” he murmurs. “You just hold onto me and do what you need to do.”
It hurts. There’s no way around that. You push back against his chest, arching and screaming while he holds you tight. When each break comes, it’s too short. Your head flops back onto his shoulder, and he wipes you down with the cold rag again.
“You’re doing great. Fuckin’ incredible. Just a little more, baby, I promise.”
After, Joel helps you stand on shaking legs just long enough to get dry. Once you’re safely seated on the bed, feeling absolutely ridiculous in what was more or less a heavily lined cloth diaper, he helped you into one of his flannels, leaving it unbuttoned so you could nurse the baby.
The day is a blur. You’re not sure what time she was born and you’re not sure how long it is before Tommy shows up. You’ve been mostly asleep, rousing when Alice brings the baby in to eat. She’s an absolute miracle, watching over little Luna while you and Joel sleep.
“Getting rest today is critical to your success in the coming weeks,” she had said.
You sleep even better once Tommy’s there. Maria stayed back with Alé, just for today. They were coming over first thing in the morning at your insistence. But Tommy came to help with the baby and stay the night once Alice went home, as you had done for them.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Alice. But knowing Tommy had Luna made you feel safer than anyone, other than you and Joel.
You might have slept better still if not for the specters haunting the room.
The next time you wake, the sun has set. You can hear her cries from downstairs, and sure enough, Tommy brings her in moments later.
“Look, Lulu, your mama is up and ready for you.”
You take her into your arms and get her latched before it registers. “What did you call her?”
“Lulu! Ain’t it sweet?”
No, you think, but he has his biggest, dopiest grin on. You settle on a noncommittal hum, which you would regret later when he takes it as enthusiasm.
You go to say something, but it dies when it finally clicks that you’re alone in the bed.
“Where’s Joel?”
“He, uh—”
“Tommy.”
“He went to try to talk to Ellie. They all just got back.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I tried to stop him—”
“No, it’s okay,” you say, closing your eyes tight for a moment. When you gently cradle Luna against your shoulder to burp her, you take a deep breath against her tiny, downy head. “He should. It’s good.”
“He didn’t need to leave you alone. I told him to wait until she got back.”
“I’m glad he didn’t. She deserves to know right away. Hell, we both tried to tell her before, but…”
The silence sits like the river in the winter—a thin, false calm on the surface. After you latch Luna on the other side and get settled, Tommy sits on the bed beside you and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.
That’s how Joel finds you when he gets back. Luna’s gone back to sleep, cradled in your arms, and Tommy’s thrown his arm around your shoulder while you cry.
“It’s normal,” he had said. “That’s what Alice told us after Alé was born. Baby blues, she called ‘em. And I think you got a real reason to be sad, anyway.”
You look up, blinking away stray tears, when Joel comes in the room. The look on his face tells you everything you need to know.
“She took one look at me and took off with Dina. I tried to call out and tell her it was real important, but she wasn’t hearin’ it,” he says once he’s crossed the room to you. He presses a kiss to you and Luna’s foreheads.
“What about me?” Tommy grumbles playfully, and Joel gives him a little kiss, too.
They both laugh. You wish you could. You think you would have. It’s right there, sitting at the bottom of your diaphragm. But it doesn’t rise, doesn’t bubble up. Instead, it goes cold and sinks down where you can’t reach.
Joel and Tommy exchange a look.
“What?” you say.
Joel just shakes his head and lifts Luna from your arms to place her in the crib. “Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be just across the hall,” Tommy says, tipping his head and shutting the door quietly behind him.
Joel slips under the covers and wraps you up in his arms. It eases a heavy sigh from your lungs, one that trembles on the air in its own wake.
He kisses your head and tucks you in close, trailing off into soft snores. But you can’t follow. Your heavy eyes blink slow, that brief darkness the only barrier between your gaze and the crib.
Your chest is tight. It’s like icicles are forming inside your lungs. It’s a testament to how tired Joel is that he doesn’t wake when you slip out of his grasp.
The soft knit socks from Mrs. Davies muffle your shuffle across the floor. You tug the throw pillow and crocheted blanket from the armchair. The crib sits low to the ground, so you lower yourself beside it, wrapped in the itchy pastel, and watch the rise and fall of her little chest.
You don’t sleep.
*title from "Hey Brother" by Avicii
#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#the last of us fic#joel miller smut#tlou fanfic#fic: you know you never stood a chance#fic: never stood a chance
61 notes
·
View notes
Note
How about Ghost w/soldier!m!reader who is also a secret p★?
— 🥩
Ghost finds out you’re a P⭐️
18+
M4m
This is a great idea, I really like it. It is similar to my konig and ghost only fans one but I’ll try to make it different enough just for you!!! Mr…slab of meat? I’m not entirely sure what that means honestly, as of now I’ll take it as a calling card lol.
Might make a part 2 to this
Ever since you were young you realized you’d been blessed by god, you had a really big cock. The handful of girls you dated in high school were way to intimidated by it, and that left you really lonely, so you gravitated more to porn and sex toys. Eventually, you realized you’d be a really good porn star! But…you had other plans, you wanted to join the military, you always wanted to. To be a true American soldier, you loved it, but, you still couldn’t scratch that itch of showing off your cock to people, other than the hand, and mouthful of times you and your buddies in basic got curious. So you had the great idea to start making videos when you were on leave, you lived alone so it wasn’t a problem, you had plenty of toys you could fuck till they tore, and you even bought a few dildos, mainly for sucking, thanks to your buddies you realized you had an affinity for it.
After a few months of making videos when you were on leave, you actually started making money off it! And a lot of views, mainly guys. And as all this success happened, you also got promoted, you got moved to a special international squad, that’s where you met ghost. On your first day, fresh out the truck, you knew something was up.
Reader-“hello sir, I’m your new addition”
You say to ghost as you salute. He eyes you a bit weird, you assume maybe it’s because you’re American, or maybe he just didn’t like you
Ghost-“at ease. Do I…know you from somewhere? I feel like I recognize your voice”
He says with a suspicious look in his eyes, his mask covering the rest of his face.
Reader-“I-no sir, I don’t think so”
You were confused for a moment, then you remembered. You did a lot of dirty talk in those videos even though you never showed the top half of your face, and your voice is pretty distinct. Has he seen your videos…
Ghost-“well, anyway, you’re dismissed, go find your room”
He walks away, mumbling to himself. You shake off the awkwardness of your first interaction with him and head to your assigned room.
Later that day you decide to upload a picture to your account, still in your uniform, on the other side of base, ghost gets a notification on his phone. When he sees it he realizes his suspicions have been confirmed, you’re the amateur gay pornstar he watches…that’s gonna be an awkward conversation. He starts walking to where your room is.
It’s only been a little bit since you’ve arrived, you’ve just now finished unpacking when you hear a knock. You go over and open it
Reader-“oh, sir what-“
He covers your mouth and pushes you back into your room and locks your door
Ghost-“don’t be loud, I knew i recognized you. You just posted a picture didn’t you mate”
Your eyes widen and your face goes red, all while his hand is covering your mouth, you nod
Ghost-“thought so, well…I’m gonna take my hand off now”
He slowly takes his hand off your mouth, you can’t help but pant a bit, and a line of spit comes out of your mouth, sticking to his hand. He already turned you on. You wipe your mouth
Reader-“well uh, this is awkward”
You say nervously
Ghost-“a bit, yeah. But, I think this could be good”
He says with a hint of mischief in his voice.
Reader-“what?”
Ghost-“well, I’ve seen all your videos, hell I was one of your first followers. I know how good you can suck cock, and I kinda wanna see that ass of yours too”
He puts a hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you to your knees with absolutely no resistance from you, you’re already turned on, and now you really wanna suck some cock.
Reader-“I-yeah, I’d be ok with that”
Your face sits only inches away from his bulge, you can smell it through his pants, so manly, so intoxicating.
Ghost-“good”
He grabs the hem of his pants and yanks them down, letting his cock spring out, it was nice, really nice, and it smelled even better outside his pants. It was a bit smaller than yours but still, his balls looked so full, you just had to give it a taste. You lean in and start licking and sucking on his balls. Ghost lets out a deep moan and chuckle.
Ghost-“wow, that easy huh. I expected to have to blackmail you or something”
You pull your mouth off his balls
Reader-“na, me and a few buddies in basic got curious, I’m told I’m really good”
I wrap my lips around his throbbing tip and start gulping down his cock.
Ghost-“fuck mate they were right”
He grunts out as your mouth moves up and down the length of his shaft. You reach down and start rubbing yourself through your pants as your erection grows more and more.
Ghost-“pull your pants down, I wanna see it, I’ve seen it in the videos, I wanna see it in person”
You moan and nod as you keep sucking and pull down your pants enough for your cock to pop out, ghost whistles
Ghost-“bloody hell mate, it’s way bigger in person”
You chuckle a bit as you keep sucking him,youI start to stroke yourself
Ghost-“fuuuuck, this is so hot”
You chuckle and take his cock deeper into your mouth, making him growl as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, he holds your head in place, making your throat spasm on his cock. As you start to gag and choke he pulls away.
Ghost-“bloody hell, how lucky am I to get a cock slut like you”
He chuckles and pulls you to your feet, you two now standing face to face, cock to cock. You both leak streams of pre cum as he reaches for your cock and starts to stroke it while he stares into your eyes.
Ghost-“I wanna feel this monster cum. You hear that soldier?”
You nod and moan as you feel his firm grip around your throbbing, hot length.
Ghost-“I didn’t hear you soldier”
Reader-“yes sir”
Ghost-“louder!”
Reader-“yes sir!”
You yell as he squeezes your cock, making your balls tighten while you finally spew out your scalding hot cum onto his hand, his arm, and even some on his abs.
Ghost-“wow, that was a huge load”
He says as he pulls his hand up to his face, pulls his mask up, and licks your cum off his hand with a smirk on his face.
Reader-“i-I’ve been pretty pent up lately”
Ghost chuckles
Ghost-“I can see that”
He pushes you back into your bed
Ghost-“now it’s my turn to-“
He gets cut off by his radio
Radio-“ghost? Where the hell are you? These damn recruits need some discipline, get you ass here”
Ghost groans and leans away from you, his cock still out and throbbing
Ghost-“I’m on my way, give me a few”
He looks back down at you with an angry look on his face before leaning down and shoving a finger into your ass.
Ghost-“next time I’m taking this hole, got it?”
Reader-“yes sir”
You say, still out of breath. Ghost chuckles and kisses you before pulling his finger out, pulling his pants up and leaving the room. He’ll be back, you know he will, and you can’t wait.
#cod x reader#smut#18+ only#simon ghost riley#m4m#bisexual#gay#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x male reader#cod smut#cod fanfic#fanfic#ghost x you#ghost smut#ghost cod
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
You were supposed to go to your hometown for the weekends. Unfortunately, there was a storm coming in the area so your mother, being the worrywart that she is, strictly told you to just stay in your apartment because it'll be dangerous if you push through with your travel.
And you did.
However, as early as ten in the morning, you were already bored as hell. You've tried taking a nap since the weather was perfect for it but it wasn't working, so you just stayed up and decided to review for your exams even though they are still a month away.
Moments later, you were already so immersed in reading when your phone suddenly rang. You absentmindedly answered it without even bothering to check who it was.
"Hello?"
"Did you just woke up?" You heard a familiar voice on the other line. It only took you half a second for you to recognize that it was Seokmin.
"Nope. Been awake since four. What's up?"
"Nothing. Just checking up on you. Your mom said you didn't go home?"
"Yes, I didn't. Storm's a bitch," you automatically groaned when you remember how disappointed you were earlier. You leaned back on your chair, "Why would she tell you though?"
"Well, she said her daughter might be crying because she's alone in her apartment right now."
"Stop it, Seok. I know she didn't say that. And besides, I'm already an adult. I can handle myself," you confidently defended yourself which made him chuckle.
"I'm sure you can. Looks like I have nothing to worry about then. I'll hang up now."
"Okay," you waited for him to hang up before you could go back to what you were doing seconds have passed but he still didn't drop the call. "I thought you're hanging up."
"I can't."
"I knew it," It was now your turn to laugh. You know he'd be saying a cheesy line any minute now, like he always does. You already told him that it makes you cringe but he still says them for you anyway. Because he knows that no matter how much you deny it, it still makes your heart flutter like crazy. "I bet you'll say something like you love hearing my voice, won't you?"
"You got me. I can listen to your voice the whole day."
"Well, Mister. You can't just hear it for free, I'm sorry. Your trial period is over. I'll be hanging up right now," you opted to teasing him, because you were too shy to admit you also feel the same way for him.
"Then how does hamburger and pizza sound for a payment?"
Your mouth automatically went agape when you heard his offer. You haven't eaten any breakfast because you were so lazy to get out and buy something. Plus, it's also near lunch time now and your stomach is already growling in hunger. Talk about perfect timing!
"Okay! Deal! I'll wait for it!"
"You're so quick when it comes to food, aren't you?"
"You know I live for it."
"Then is it me or hamburgers?"
"Don't be cruel. I never once made you choose between ramyeon and me."
"Okay," he chuckled. "Fair point."
"Did you already order it?"
"It's already on its way, Madam."
"I'm sorry. You know how impatient am I when I'm starving--" you weren't able to finish what you were saying when you were interrupted by a sudden knocking . "Wait, someone's at my door. I'll just check who it is."
You hurriedly went out of your room and it wasn't long before you arrived at your front door. When you finally opened it, there he was...
A guy wearing a black hoodie, holding two boxes of pizza and hamburgers in his left hand with his phone on his right hand, smiling shyly at you.
"Hi, love."
You let out a chortle and pulled him into a hug. It obviously surprised him but he still hugged you back eventually and then kissed the top of your head.
It was definitely Seokmin, your cheesy sweet boyfriend.
—♡—
#lee seokmin#seokmin x reader#svt seokmin#seokmin x you#seokmin x y/n#seokmin fluff#svt#seventeen#svt scenarios#svt au#seventeen filo au#svt imagines
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
big thighs, new jersey ✢ mattias samuelsson (18+)
pairing: mattias samuelsson x fem!reader (childhood friends to lovers)
warnings: pining. so much pining. fem language (reader is referred to as a woman). cursing. alcohol consumption. reader and mattias are drunk but coherent. super vague religious imagery. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, petnames, praise, enthusiastic consent, cocky mattias but literally who is shocked, begging, so many feelings involved. ever so slight angst.
summary: y/n has been in love with mattias since they first met when they were 8, and they had matching bowl cuts. being his best friend is the hardest job she’s ever been tasked with. 16 years of pure desperation all boils down to one night on the beach.
word count: 5.2k ... jesus christ
author's note: welcome to what is essentially a year's worth of brainrot, compiled into one fic. i started this concept a year ago with some friends, and now thanks to @pldstattoos, @flashyfucker, and @puck-luck, it is now a tangible piece of literature. based ever so loosely on the song “big thighs, nj” by lowcut connie, amongst other tunes that i will share later. this man just SCREAMS childhood friends to lovers so i had to give my very best to my favorite boy ever.
it’s late again.
he’s got one arm draped over your shoulders, gesturing wildly to the rest of the group with his can of seltzer, not spilling a single drop. the old, paint-stained sheet you two share has gone cold, matching the feeling of the sand beneath it.
if he remembered you brought that old “seaside heights” sweatshirt you bought back in the heyday of the jersey shore era with you to the beach when you told him you were cold, eyes wide and hopeful, he kept it to himself.
another day spent at the beach with your friends, skitting along the sand, never too far apart from each other. you could feel him on your skin like the humidity.
it’s been like this since your parents agreed, reluctantly, that you were too old for day camps and you barely got to see mattias anymore during the school year. your mom softened when you mentioned him like she always did. since then, you’d bike to his house in the morning to find him strapping on his rollerblades. you’d make him race you for a few blocks since he insisted on cross-training in the offseason or whatever it was he said to make himself feel like he wasn’t totally slacking off. then you both slowed down, falling into a rhythm about as familiar as your own heartbeat. you’d meet up with friends, skipping through town and letting the breeze off the ocean push you one way or another. and more often than not, it ended around a fire pit — and as you got older — with cans in hands, recounting the day and making half-hearted plans for the next one.
except, now you’re older. old enough that you just finished your first ever real internship, one that led you up to the summer, now leaving you with the stress of finding a real job. but that doesn’t matter right now. what matters right now is the fact that you’re back with your friends, on the beach, recalling those stories from long ago, like how you broke your arm when you were 10 because you insisted to mattias and his older brother, luke, that you could do a cartwheel on the trampoline in your roller skates. it had been his older sister, allie, that called the ambulance, naturally.
you’re acutely aware that there are a finite number of these days and nights left. mattias is a big-time hockey player now (well, not actually, but to you, he might as well be wayne gretzky), and just like you, he can’t spend his whole life on the beach. but you really wish he could, with you, forever. knowing you have to share him with the world, that’s the part that eats at you.
you’re also acutely aware of his position on you, his hand skirting just barely along the top of your bikini top, just barely out of reach from where you really wish he’d lay his hands. you wonder if he can feel the goosebumps on your skin from the calm jersey winds.
mattias’ voice vibrates through your body, its deep, steady buzz keeping you centered. it’s not until you hear angelo let out an almost inhumane noise that triggers the group into a state of hysteria, that you feel a cold splash on your shoulder and the sound of mattias stifling a choked laugh, snapping you out of your thoughts. you glance up at mattias, whose guilt slowly etches onto his face as he drunkenly realizes what he’s done. he didn’t even spill that much, but he knows there’s a good chance you’ll overdramatize for the sake of poking fun at him.
“mattias, how could you!” you widen your eyes again and fling your wrist against your forehead, leaning your back into him as though you’re fainting. you stick to your performance as much as you can, trying to ignore how his muscular frame presses against you, his arms catching you with your quick movements. he’s leaning down over you, rolling his eyes and laughing at you. you smell the scent of mango and alcohol on his breath, his signature summer scent at this point. you could kiss him right now if you wanted; he was close enough to your face.
you want to chastise him for not being more careful, for not paying attention to his own body. but you know it weighs on him more than anyone else. there are boundaries you know not to cross.
he lifts up his shirt, just enough to use it as a makeshift towel for the drink he spilled on you. just enough to see his soft, tan skin and the ripple of his muscles that he, for some reason, chooses to hide more often than not.
“sorry, baby. lemme help you,” he half-whispers, because he’s mattias, a man who can never be truly silent. baby. a nickname he started using on you when you were 15, starting to drink when you went to the cool parents’ house, a nickname that he only really uses on you when you’ve both been under some sort of influence. he knows the effect that it has on you, and you hate that you know that he seems to do it on purpose. he’s so unfair sometimes.
he uses his free arm to keep you steady, wrapping his arm around your stomach. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, but choose not to focus on it too much. you’re practically in his lap now, being cradled in his arms as you feel the soft material of his shirt swipe down your arm, and back over your shoulder, and just along that same forbidden spot along the hem of your bikini top. it’s killing you at this point.
“all good?” he asks, causing you to be forced to look him in the eyes again.
“all good,” you squeak out, your voice barely a whisper, leaning back into him and taking your spot back in his arms.
“sorry again, dude,” he slurs, smoothing down the messy hair on top of your head, and it reminds you that you, too, have plenty of alcohol in your body, and it’s just now starting to catch up. it’s that same consumption of alcohol that would account for why no one has paid attention to either of you for the past 5 minutes, everyone caught up in telling their own drunken tales from the past.
you go to tell him that you swear it’s okay, when josh loudly —and suddenly— announces his departure from the group, saying something about his early morning tee time with his dad the next day. it was from there that lauren, bri, and anna got up and began making their way back to the house together, arm in arm, giggling about an inside joke that you had been too distracted to participate in. julian and angelo linger for a few minutes longer, arguing with each other and mattias about stuff that doesn’t matter. your eyes feel heavier still. the pair of boys eventually peel off, their yawns becoming hard to ignore. they bid their goodbyes to you and your human pillow, disappearing up the dune and into the house.
mattias nudges you, and you stir.
“do you want to head in? it’s, like, 3:45 am,” mattias asks, showing you the time on his phone. his phone background – a photo of the group, his arms, wrapped around your chest, everyone smiling like it was picture day – lights up your face, the sudden brightness causing you to squint. sure enough, the clock reads 3:42 am. you let out a sigh, twisting in his arms so you’re laying with your back to the sheet, between his thighs. he grabs your head on both sides, shaking it slightly, his fingers loosely carding through your hair. you don’t say anything, just staring up at him like he’s a god of some sort.
“what’s up? talk to me. did i do something?” he looks down at you, a sympathetic look in his eyes mixed with that damn smirk of his.
“tias,” is all you can manage to get out, your voice barely a whisper.
“yeah?” his voice suddenly going quieter than normal. this is rare, and it worries you.
“would you be mad at me if i asked you to kiss me?” you ask, suddenly feeling bold and vulnerable with your loneliness in the moonlight.
“of course i wouldn’t; am i ever mad when you ask?” he replies, cocking an eyebrow at you. and he was right. you two had made out countless times before, always in private, never escalating past light groping, always leaving you both high and dry, but too scared to ask for more. even at your big ages, you were still stuck in this routine, always running back to each other when the girl mattias tried to fly out bailed on him or the guy you met at the bar ended up giving you a weird vibe. it was normal in some way. like, of course best friends kiss each other. why wouldn’t they?
“you don’t get it, i don’t think,” you dare, the alcohol in your system giving you a strange boost of confidence.
his hands loosen around your head, ever so slowly moving down your neck, over your shoulders, and to that damned spot on your chest. your body reacts to his touch, suddenly hyper-aware of just how cold you are on the beach in nothing but a bathing suit.
“no, i think i do. let me know if i’m reading this wrong, but i think i get it,” he responds.
you adjust yourself between his legs, your head now laying on his upper thigh. you feel the strong muscles tighten underneath you, causing a chill to run down your spine. looking up at him, your eyes soften, and he leans down again, feeling his breath on your face. the scent of mango white claw still lingers, only slightly less prominent now. you squirm slightly at the feeling of him so close.
“tell me what you want,” he speaks, low and gravelly. the feeling of it in your eardrums sends a pang straight to your core.
“what do you think i want?” you tease, wondering if he truly has caught on, or if he’s telling you want you want to hear.
“you want me to fuck you, don’t you?” his words catch you off guard, even though he said exactly what you were hoping for. “you don’t think i haven't felt you squirming in my lap all night? i’m not that dumb, baby.” his voice is barely audible at this point, just enough to get his point across.
all you can do is stare up at him, suddenly unable to form a complete thought, putty in his lap. your breathing grows heavier, and he can’t help but notice.
“so, what’ll it be?”
“please, ti.”
he pulls you up into his lap and you straddle him, finding your place settled directly above the bulge in his since-dried board shorts. his hands immediately find their place along your sides, gliding gently up and down from your ribcage to your hips. his fingers linger slightly over the string of your bikini, toying with it, not daring to remove it. he leans down, connecting your lips from where they were parted dumbfoundedly in front of him, as if you had never been in that position with him before. you had, but this was different.
he moves slowly, as if wanting to take his time with you, not knowing whether or not this would be the first or the only time he would have his way with you. you open your mouth once again, a moan escaping your lips. he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking up into you with desperation. the roll of your hips against him elicits a loud groan from him, now, and you decide that if that was the last thing you ever heard, you would die a happy woman. you can feel his shorts growing tighter underneath your lap, causing you to roll your hips again, slower than the first time. another groan escapes his lips, causing you to stop and look him in the eyes, your hands holding his face tenderly.
“what are you so fucking loud for?” you tease, knowing that the sounds he’s making are turning you on even more, as evident by the wet spot growing on his shorts.
“sorry, i’ve just been thinking about this moment since we were 16. you don’t know how hard its been to keep my cool around you, y/n. i’ve been so good, so patient. i can’t think of anything i’ve ever wanted more than this,” he says, panting slowly, trying to control his breathing. he seems as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his chest.
you hold back the tears threatening to spill over your waterline. you feel the exact same way, just unsure of how to express it. all you can do is plant a delicate kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. his hands find that spot of your bikini top, finger rubbing lightly on the freshly tanned skin there.
“may i, please?” he almost begs, toying with the strap of the thin top, a look of desperation looking up at you with big hazel eyes.
“of course,” you whisper, a kiss planted to the tip of his nose.
long, slender fingers make their way down your shoulders to the front of your chest, as he hooks the strap around his fingers, pulling slightly. a gasp escapes his lips as your full chest is exposed, the harsh chill immediately giving you goosebumps, you reaching back to unclasp and remove the rest of it. he sees the way your body reacts to the cold, and he takes your right breast in his large hand, enveloping it in his grasp, and you immediately feel warmer. he kisses you again, more passionate than the last, massaging the flesh in his hand, deft fingers keeping rhythm against your skin.
he leans back, taking you with him, now fully laying on top of him on the sandy blanket. his hands trail to your ass, the lack of his hand on your chest not too significant due to the lack of space between your bodies now.
the kiss never breaks, your hips rolling deep into him, the feeling of his hardness underneath you growing almost unbearable.
“ti, i need you to touch me please,” you sigh, pulling away.
all he can do is look up at you, his face slack as he furiously nods his head.
his hand trails down your ass, following the hem of your bikini bottoms, his fingers tracing the fabric down to your core. he moves the fabric to the side, sliding his fingers through your folds with a loud gasp.
“oh my god, so fucking wet,” he groans into your shoulder, you kissing up and down his neck, nibbling just below his ear.
“just for you, only you,” you whisper in his ear, causing his hips to buck up at you. “slow down,” you warn, not wanting to waste this moment.
he begins rubbing down on your clit, and now it’s your turn to moan. he glides his middle finger through your wetness a few more times before slowly teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. you let out a whimper, signaling that he can go ahead. he slides his finger into your cunt, and you immediately feel the stretch of his thick digit.
“can you take another, baby?” he asks, not necessarily waiting for permission before adding a second finger. the stretch was almost unbearable, and he could feel you react to it so viscerally while he scissored his fingers slowly in and out.
“just wait till you take my cock,” he growls, his confidence suddenly taking over.
“now, please,” you whine, desperate for what you’d dreamt about since you were a horny teenager fantasizing about his length in math class.
“what happened to patience, baby?” he questioned, fingers never losing pace in your cunt. “i wanna taste you; are you gonna let me do that, huh?”
all you could seem to muster out was a weak “mhm”; his fingers already overwhelming you.
he removes his fingers, eliciting a wince from you. turning you over in his arms, he begins kissing your face, barely avoiding your lips, down your chin, to your neck, stopping right by your ear.
“i know baby, i know, i’m gonna take such good care of you, don’t you worry, baby,” his voice almost primitive.
he returns to his path down your neck, leaving marks that you’re sure your friends will see in the morning. he takes his time, agonizingly slow, and you wonder how he hasn’t come in his shorts yet with how patient he’s being. he gets to your chest, placing chaste kisses across it, until he reaches your left breast. he takes your nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue, causing you to arch up into him. he doesn’t say anything, simply opting to hum into your skin, the sensation driving you crazy. he comes off with a pop, his hand quickly replacing his mouth as he makes his way over to the other side.
you run your fingers through his hair, the hair that he has yet to ruin with his midsummer chop. you twist the longer locks between your fingers, needing some sort of stimulation. your hands trail down his back, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt, wondering why it’s even still on in the first place, suddenly feeling overexposed.
“take this off, now,” you demand, your voice sounding stricter than you intended. he stops, leaning up on his knees to look down at the beautiful sight below him.
“yes, ma’am,” he groans, drawing out each word. if he hadn’t had you pinned down beneath him, you probably would arched up into him. he reaches behind him, yanking the top over his head in one fell swoop, exposing his soft, tan chest, the few hairs left at the top near the base of his neck curling up neatly.
“stop starin’, baby,” he teases, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, although both of you refuse to acknowledge it; something to tease him about at a different time.
he leans back down towards you, placing a soft kiss to your lips, eliciting a giggle from you, which makes him pull back, that signature goofy grin of his plastered across his face.
“you ready?” he asks, making sure you two are on the same page, although he knows he doesn't have to ask.
a soft “please” escapes your lips, reverberating off of his own, and he begins making his way down your body, starting with your neck, softly nibbling at the skin there. he trails down your shoulder, kissing the newly-formed freckles that have appeared from the past few days of sunshine, then, obviously stopping to spend a quick second alone with your tits. from there he makes it to your stomach, causing your breath to hitch sharply. he pulls back, quickly placing another peck to your lips, as if to say “it's okay”.
he regains his place at your navel, using his hands to pry your legs apart for him. despite your sudden shyness, you oblige immediately, and he lets out a guttural groan at the view of the wet spot prominently featured on your bikini bottoms.
“i need these off, now,” he demands, this time, tugging at the strings of your bikini, undoing the ties on your hips, patting the flesh of your hip to lift up for him. you oblige, and your bottoms are joined with your top in the sand.
mattias ducks back down, face fully aligned with your cunt. his finger once again finds its place between your folds, not quite doing anything, but rather scoping out just how wet you truly are. another groan escapes him, mixing with the moan that escapes you, harmonizing together into what you could only describe as a masterpiece. his groan echoes off of you, feeling the warm breath of him.
you look down at him, and he looks up to meet your eyes. while never breaking eye contact, he allows a string of spit to fall down his tongue and into your folds, making your legs twitch, embarrassingly though, because his tongue had yet to make contact.
you think he’s about to touch you again, when you suddenly feel the cooling sensation of his mouth on you, catching you off guard. his tongue circles your clit, much like how he had your nipple in his mouth earlier, causing you to arch your back into his face, the feeling of just 3 days worth of stubble stinging your thighs. he wraps his arms around your upper thighs, holding you in place.
“gotta be still baby; taste so fucking good. i love this pussy,” he coos, his warm breath once again driving you mad.
you giggle, not out of malice, but because you often found yourself alone at night, imagining him saying similar things to you, your own hand never seeming to do the trick. you wonder if he’s ever done the same, even though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.
you thought your reaction would’ve deterred him, but shockingly, it only seemed to motivate him more, picking up his speed, practically making out with your core. his nose, long and slender, hits your clit, sending shockwaves through you, your legs growing shakier with each kitten lick.
“mattias, i’m close,” your words croak out; you can barely think straight.
“you’re doin’ so good for me,” he pants, trying to stifle the moans that dare to escape his lips. “you got it, baby, so fuckin’ good.”
his words, mixed with his motions, are enough to send you over the edge. he continues his movements with his tongue on your clit, electing to tease your hole with his finger. the sensation is too much, and you try your best to keep your screams in, knowing that your entire friend group is a mere yards away, likely sleeping off their hangovers that were bound to appear.
you come, then, your legs shaking in his arms as he continues to lick through your orgasm. as your breathing becomes sporadic and heavy, he peels off, running his hands down the sides of your body to calm you down — and warm you up.
your shaking doesn’t stop, and you’re almost certain its due to the fact that the temperatures have dropped since you and him became preoccupied, but there’s no point in going inside now.
“how you feelin’, baby?” he asks, spooning you against his chest as you lay on the blanket. “you’re shivering. do you wanna go inside? we can finish this in my room, if you want,” he continues, stroking your arms tenderly in his grip.
“need you inside me, now,” you mewl, not fully able to find your words. you were gonna finish what you started.
“you sure?” he whispers, and you can feel his heart beating faster — and his shorts growing tighter — behind your back.
“tias, i can feel you. you want this as bad as i do,” you half-argue back.
“i don’t have a condom or anything; are you sure it’s fine?” he implores.
“oh my god, mattias, please just fuck me already,” you whine, begging him for more.
and with that, he’s rolling you over, pinning you to the sheet, the warmth of his body caging you in.
he begins kissing you again, his movements slow and soft, savoring the moment, all while simultaneously thrusting down onto you, trying to get some kind of friction going. you reach down between your bodies, untying the strings of the bright red shorts he’s wearing. you fidget with the waistband, and he lets out another groan.
“go for it,” he confirms, panting into your ear, and you tug them down just enough for his cock to bob free. he shuffles them off, discarding them with the previous pile of clothes, and you look down between you two. he was right, it was big. you begin calculating in your head how he was going to make it work, suddenly growing desperate to find out.
“told you,” he says, with that stupid smirk back on his face. you let out an exasperated laugh, catching his chains in between your teeth. it’s his turn to laugh now.
he pumps himself a few times, although he definitely didn't need to, adjusting himself in order to line himself up with your entrance. he glides his cock through your folds, and you arch up into him. he uses that opportunity to grab onto your back, keeping you flush with his body again.
he finally pushes in, and the stretch of him is almost mindnumbing.
“holy shit,” is all you can muster, as he bottoms out and readjusts himself to get the right angle. he begins slowly rocking in and out, not quite fully pushing all the way back in, and you can tell that he thinks you can’t take it.
you moan his name, signalling for him to pick up speed. the sounds of your bodies mixing together are most definitely echoing through the air, and you hope and pray that none of your neighbors have decided to go for an early morning jog.
he finds his rhythm, picking up your left leg and hooking it over his hip. this angle is heavenly, and you can tell it feels good for him, too, because another throaty groan escapes his lips.
“so tight, holy fuck. you like that, baby?,” he asks, planting kisses across your chest and neck, leaving plenty of marks in his wake.
“yes, oh my god, ti,” you squeak, the feeling of his thrusts interrupting your ability to speak in full sentences.
you can feel him getting closer, judging by the way his cock twitches inside you.
“where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, and you know exactly what he means.
“anywhere. just not in,” you reply, your paranoia suddenly taking over.
he complies, pulling out. the loss of contact makes you wince, but he leans back on his heels, jerking himself off over you. your hand reaches down between your thighs, rubbing your own clit, until he swats it away, replacing it with his own free hand. the image of the large, muscular body in front of you, doing what he’s doing, is enough to send you to your second orgasm of the night. you come, quickly, nothing but smalls gasps escaping your lips. this is enough for him, and he spills, painting your chest with his seed.
you can’t help but grab for your own breast, lightly rubbing it into your skin. mattias is still straddling you, his own breathing trying to recover.
“i wish i could take a picture right now,” he says. “this is the hottest thing i’ve seen in my life. you’re so perfect, oh my god.” he’s panting.
“why don’t you?” you ask, motioning toward his long-abandoned phone on the blanket next to you both. his eyes grow wide, as if he was certain that he had misheard you, until you quip, “seriously, go for it. something to think about on your roadies. consider it a gift,” you tease, and he scrambles to grab his phone. he turns it on, the time now reading 4:38 am. the sun is just barely starting to peak over the water, the sky now a pale purple, like something out of a national geographic magazine.
he swipes to the camera app, lining you up in the frame, your come-covered tits prominately centered in the middle, the breaking of dawn just barely visible behind you. you hear the camera click, and you let out an exasperated giggle. leaning up, you wrap your hands around his neck, and he pulls you close.
“it’s fucking freezing out here,” you complain, your shivering suddenly returning to your body.
“i know, i hid your sweatshirt under the blanket about 2 hours ago,” mattias reveals, and you smack him lightly on the back of the head. he reaches over, lifting up the corner of the sheet, revealing the old sweatshirt, shaking the sand out of it. he uses the old sheet to clean you up quickly, then helps you place the sweatshirt on, planting a sweet kiss to your lips as your head pops out the top.
“we should definitely head in now,” you say, standing up from your place in his lap. reaching for your bikini bottoms and loosely retying them to your hips, you then throw his shorts and shirt playfully against his chest, and he quickly and haphazardly put them back on. he continues to hold on to your top, and he grabs your hand as you make your way back up the dune, up to his house that is all too quiet now.
you walk through the gate, pausing at the sliding glass door, turning to face him.
“we should talk about this, later,” you say, scared of what he might say next. he looks down at you, his height suddenly overwhelming you.
“later is good, yeah. let’s just savor it for now, okay?” he suggests, and you wonder if he truly means it. your friends would surely catch on, and you have no clue how to go about that awkward conversation, even though, unbeknownst to the both of you, the group had been placing bets for years now about how long it would take for you two to break. anna was about to be $1,000 richer.
with that, you two quietly open the sliding glass door, both cringing slightly at the chime of the alarm system that notifies when doors are opened and closed. he leads you up the stairs, daring to not make any extra noise, when he stops at his bedroom door, your shared guest room that housed the 3 other sleeping girls just 2 doors down.
“stay with me, please?” he begs, and his eyes soften. he reaches up to rub his left eye with his finger, a nervous tic of his that never goes unnoticed from you.
“of course,” you whisper, and you let him lead you through to his room.
you make your way to his bed, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants that had been thrown lazily on the floor, replacing your bikini bottoms with them, the small article joining the pile next to you. he climbs up onto the bed with you, a fresh pair of boxer briefs now on his body. he pulls you close, taking in the scent of your hair — the salt of the ocean, now mixed with his cologne — and he lets out what sounds like the largest sigh of relief of his life.
you once again feel his heartbeat against your chest, this time, the steadiness, mixed with his rhythmic breathing, lulls you into sleep.
this wasn’t the first time you two had shared a bed, but it was different, this time. as you drift off, you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time you fell asleep with him holding you like this.
#mattias samuelsson#mattias samuelsson x reader#mattias samuelsson smut#nhl x reader#nhl smut#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction
30 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey can u share ur void success story? Would love to see it
hii this is the storytime I promised about getting into the void first try <3
disclaimer: this post is long asf, I like being very detailed when talking about such stuff because you may never know which insignificant detail might help someone + I always liked when people would go into detail about shifting or the void state
this happened a few months ago. I’m a reality shifter and have been trying for around 4 years and never succeeded for more than a few seconds, so I got extremely burned out with the traditional methods
I decided to research about shifting on tumblr to see if the community is popular here as well (previously I’ve only researched about it on tiktok, reddit and a bit on youtube) and found a bit of general info about shifting, but what has gotten my attention was a person who got into the void state and instantly manifested their desires. I thought it looked a lot like shifting so I read some more
I knew a tiny bit about the void state from shifttok, but I’ve never been interested to learn more until that point. the og post said that they specifically reached the void state by doing yoga nidra so I thought it was a requirement for the void at that point. I didn’t know what yoga nidra was, so I sent the person a message asking about it and went about my day deciding I’m giving up on traditional methods and will start to work with the void state
for some reason I didn’t research any further that day (probably because I was burnt out by my shifting attempt the night before and didn’t feel like ingesting more information)
at night I decided to try to shift again. I drank blue lotus tea and put on a guided meditation. after 10 minutes I get bored and switched the meditation for white, brown and pink noises and fell asleep saying affirmations
I got woken up by my alarm at around 10 a.m. (I didn’t shift) and I tried to get out of bed to really woke up, but I ended up falling asleep until 11:30 a.m. when I got woken up again by my loud parents getting ready for work, so I tried to play on my phone to get more lucid and not fall asleep again because I didn't feel like getting out of bed, but I also didn't want to continue sleeping. my eyes were practically closing by themselves atp, but I went on tumblr and saw the person I messaged the night before answered my message and said they'll post a guide one of these days. after thanking them I closed my eyes again thinking of the void state. I remember saying to myself something like “I really want to get into the void, I can’t wait for the guide so I can do yoga nidra”
for the next hour I fell asleep for 10 minutes then woke up for 1-3 minutes at least 3 times (I was very tired, probably because of the previous shifting attempt) and my thoughts were completely blank;
at some point I find myself in my kitchen trying to make coffee and I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or not because the dream was very clear and I usually make coffee after getting out of bed so I thought I had finally woken up
I noticed the jar of instant coffee was almost empty and I asked myself "why is it almost empty, I bought a new jar yesterday" (I finished my jar yesterday and wanted to buy a new one today btw), then when I went pick up the jar I was instantly hit with the realization that I was lucid dreaming, so not even a second later I threw myself to the ground in a crisscross position to allow myself to fall through the floor and shift to my dr
when I hit the ground I closed my eyes and stated my intention of wanting to shift to my jujutsu kaisen dr, but I didn’t even get to finish my intention when I felt myself being pulled through the floor in an infinite dark void; I realized I entered the void state
I was calm, but really wanted to get to my dr, so I started affirming and visualizing. I felt myself being pulled again through the void, a bit lower, before stopping again
I got annoyed and started thinking of my dr again then started hearing a voice; I listened for a bit then realized I was hearing an argument between yuuji and megumi. I didn't understand because they were talking in japanese, but at the same time I understood the message?? they were arguing about how to exorcise a curse or something like that
the weird thing about their voices is that when I dream, lucid dream, visualize or make up scenarios, all the voices are quiet and muffled in the distance and the tone never changes, but the voices I was hearing were loud and clear as if I was next to them, which has NEVER happened to me before. I think I literally stood there frozen for 15 seconds because of how loud and real (?) their voices sounded
anyways
I was getting annoyed because I kept getting distracted and started saying affirmations and trying to imagine where I wanted to wake up. I couldn't feel my body the whole time, I was pure conciseness.
I told myself that as long as I shift, I don't care where I end up, then suddenly I started to hear more voices including a girl's voice (they were most probably people from other drs of mine).
I got confused and a bit alarmed, so I asked out loud what do I have to do to shift. suddenly all the voices got muffled and a man with a lower voice started talking to me in english. I didn't know who that was and I got confused, but tried my best to follow his instructions. I started to hear noises from my cr (the cars passing my apartment as I live in a noisy area) but tried not to wake up. because of the noises I woke up and suddenly I was in my room again. I panicked but didn’t open my eyes or move my body (I could semi-feel my body, but it was mostly asleep) and literally yelled in my mind ‘I want to get back into the void!!’ suddenly I’m in the void again, this time I didn’t feel the falling sensation, it was instant
back into the void I saw nothing was working I decided to shift to my waiting room because I remembered someone once saying that a waiting room is some kind of parallel located between your cr and other realities and this is why it can be easier to shift there. I intended to shift to my waiting room then felt how my body got pulled lower into the void again, then it suddenly stopped when I heard my phone buzzing in my cr because of a notification
I got extremely frustrated and decided to fully wake up
I woke up at around 1:20 p.m. and was very happy with what I just went through.
thinking about the last voice for a bit, I initially thought it was gojo, but it sounded too different to be him, plus the man was talking in english, so I figured it could've been zhongli from my genshin dr since I scripted english is an universal language in teyvat, but then I thought it was weird that he responded since I'm not very close to him in my dr, but after some more thinking I realized that we're actually connected in my dr so it kinda makes sense to be him, but I'm still not 100% sure, I'm only sure about hearing yuuji and megumi arguing
it took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that when I was in the void and said I want to shift to my dr and started falling then stopped and I heard yuuji and megumi, I was actually in my dr and I just needed to wake up. I thought I would get woken up instantly just like with shifting methods, but I actually had to wake myself up from the void. my information was very limited because, like I said in the beginning, I only read one or two posts about the void state beforehand
it would also make sense to hear yuuji and megumi first thing before waking up in my dr, because I scripted that when they go in the school to get sukuna’s finger, I would be asleep in one of the offices (don’t ask) and will witness the whole thing
I think the way I got into the void is an actual method; I forgot the name of it but it might’ve been the phrase method, I’m not too sure
it also shows you don’t have to have a perfect mindset as I thought I can’t possibly get into the void until I do yoga nidra for a few days, so all you need is intention and an alternate state of consciousness
additional things (you can totally skip this if you want to)
after I got into the void state that day, I continued practicing the void state and I almost got into it at least 15 times, but instead of doing it via a lucid dream, I used the lullaby and distraction methods because I have a hard time lucid dreaming. every time I would be pulled into the void with these methods I would instantly think of my cr or get impatient and be immediately be pulled out, so I’m working on that and on how to lucid dream more often
I think I’m getting close into reaching the void again, because I’ve been working on meditation and started teaching my subconscious mind not to think of my cr while going into the void state.
the months of march and april were literally stagnant for me with no little to no success because I strongly believe I got the evil eye or something like that. at the end of february I went back to my home country (which is in eastern europe) to attend my cousin’s 18th birthday and I think I might have been cursed by one of the old ladies attending. I would always get the evil eye by them as a kid, but my grandma would usually remove it for me
my manifestations stopped and I couldn’t reach the void again but I thought it was because of work and uni related stress, but then it hit me it might be something else because I literally never had issues with my manifestations but suddenly I couldn’t manifest anything anymore, so I performed a cleanse and now I’m back again manifesting like it’s my job
a few nights ago I tried to get into the void, after like 8 minutes of meditation my body fell asleep while my mind was awake and I could’ve entered the void, but I sabotaged myself because I told myself I needed to go to sleep asap because I need to wake up in 3 hours for work so I moved around a bit and went to sleep
anyways, I’ll try to get into the void again and keep y’all updated. next month I go back to my home country where is peace and quiet so I think I’ll have a better time without stressing about uni, work or the noisy area I live in
#reality shifting#shifting#desired reality#law of assumption#void state#void#void success#void succes story#manifestation#void concept
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
I DNF'd Mistorn: Here's Why
Disclaimer: You asked for this. Let me start there. Don't get mad at me, Mistborn lover. If you clicked on this link, and that means you are taking the dagger into your own hand. The wound is self-inflicted!
I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I know, I know, its actually called The Final Empire. The name Mistborn has stuck with so many readers for a reason, so I'll continue to use it as a shorthand. The book didn't work for me, but I think WHY it didn't work for me might be interesting to read about, especially for fellow authors.
If you have read and enjoyed the Mistborn books, or any work by Brandon Sanderson, I'm delighted. I want to applaud any work of fiction that brings people joy (so long as it or its author is not reprehensible in some way (he said, covering his ass)). I don't want you to think this is me taking shots at you or at Sanderson. I'm just talking about a work of fiction and what it did to my brain.
Believe me when I tell you I have no delusions about being some high-handed minister of good taste. You should see some of the anime I watch to destress at the end of a long day trying to be a self-published author, editor, and, well, just an ordinary semi-functioning human being.
I've read many, many books and loved them, only to come back to them later and find they were … less deserving of my matured tastes. Sometimes books meet us at the right time. If Mistborn was, or is, one such book for you, I would be a jerk and a fool if I tried to tell you that you were wrong for liking it. That isn't what this is. But, if you're at all curious why I didn't like it the way you did, here are my thoughts.
Instead of trying to construct some long elaborate essay, I've decided to present my reading notes as I was writing them. If you're at all familiar with my SPFBO9 opening reads thread, this is in a similar, though much protracted style. This is my travelogue of the first few chapters. If these notes are rough or feel stilted in places, I'm sorry. I DNF'd the book a few months ago, and I found in trying to clean up my notes that I was making up commentary to fill in gaps and I don't think that's fair. I've tried to provide some context where I could.
Pages referenced are from the first mass market edition, published August 2007 by Tor
My Notes:
Starts well enough. Interesting introduction to the fantastic elements of the environment (the ash fall) and the enslavement of the skaa. Some neat 2nd world titles “obligator,” etc.
Not great, not riveting, but competent introduction of world and one protagonist, Kelsier.
He doesn't know what to do with Vin, though. Disconnect between the characters as we're told they are and their actions. Lacking coherent motivation.
(P.5)The slave that stands and stares defiantly sending a chill through the lord so-and-so is a bit melodramatic. Both actions struck me as over the top.
(writing note)…too many “of courses”
The writing is competent and descriptive. The Mist at night is another interesting setting detail.
(p.6) I immediately dislike Kelsier. “I’ll have to cure them of that (fear of the mist) some day.” This is has an unsympathetic arrogance about it. If this is also the man who stared defiantly at lord-so-and-so, hes blasé about endangering these people, and seems to look down on them, much like lord-so-and-so. I suspect this impression is not intentional. I suspect I’m supposed to think him strong and clever. We’ll see.
(7) rolling his eyes at these people. This seems intentional. But it’s also annoying.
(10) beatings beatings beatings. These “peasants” and their daily beatings. Did I mention the beatings? Their lives are harsh! There are beatings!
(‘) what is this talk about Tepper “leading” the skaa? Leading them how? They’re slaves! What decisions are they making? No, really. What is this forced little conflict? It’s pointless.
(‘) “How do you do that?” “What?” “Smile all the time” - there’s no reason for him to ask this. It’s unmotivated dialogue. How do you smile all the time? How? No. Why, sure. “You keep smiling. Is something about our home funny to you?”
(19-20, ch.1) I’m having trouble with Sandersons storytelling. This is coming across as heavy handed and simplistic. Here’s Vin. She was betrayed. There are betrayals. This boy who came to get her who’s nice enough will also betray her. But the ash is free…
I wonder if we’re going to slowly work through the alphabet section by section. Ash, then beatings and betrayal… who knows what could be next? Crime? I bet it’s crime.
Also - Reen’s sayings and betrayal. I think in general I find it a bit affected when we meet a character and they’re immediately thinking of their backstory … but that’s probably not fair of me. I think what comes across as affected is Sandersons execution. There’s a very light fiction - YA quality about Vin’s angsty introduction. I might have loved it if I read it at 14, but not now.
I’d like to think of an example of what would be more appealing to me - the introduction of a character with similar enough circumstances… Actually, Gideon the 9th might be a good example. We get to hear Gideon’s voice in the prose and the dialogue and get a strong sense of her character as well as the specific and very interesting world building details of how she got into the 9th house. Here, Reen’s betrayal is left completely unexplored, and so I wonder why bring it up at all except for that cheap YA punch in the gut of “my brother betrayed me and now I’m here.”
Maybe Sanderson felt some necessity to move faster here. He wanted to get to the city theiving … but it isn’t working for me, so obviously I think it was a mistake. Obviously he was hoping this would create a sense of anticipation that we would eventually find out HOW Vin’s brother betrayed her, but because he leads with it and then doesn’t explain it, it makes it seem like it doesn’t really matter HOW Vin was betrayed, what’s important is that she was betrayed and now she doesn’t trust anyone. It’s just a bit weak.
THE HEAVY HANDEDNESS
(People being mean to Vin - her hard life)
(21) the slap in the face
(23) Theron looking Vin up and down - “eyes lingered on her … running down the length of her body. … She was hardly enticing (didn’t even look 16); some men preferred such women, however.”
(24) “what do you know?” “Enough” - Vin hurts her, expositional dialogue about her brother’s debt and selling her to a whorehouse.
(25) fearing Vin would disappear in a scene she doesn’t have much to do during, we get these unnecessary interjections of her watching the interaction, followed by the explanation of Camon thinking Vin is his good luck charm. This should have been presented earlier, because it just interrupts the dialogue here. But also, it feels inaccurate after Vin made such a useful critique of Camon’s servants. She seems much more useful in other ways than a luck charm, and comfortable offering her criticism without the slightest hesitation.
This chapter ends rather abruptly and without much Go to it. Vin uses her Luck and gets our stuffy official to consider her boss’s mundane business proposal.
The notion that Camon brings Vin along because he thinks of her as his luck charm feels really thin, especially on a job like this where everyone has to look the part. Which raises an important question: what was Vin doing there? I mean literally. Why didn’t Camon have SOMETHING for her to do. Camon didn’t dress her up in any part, she didn’t have any kind of cover story as his daughter or nurse or anything. Just some kid in the room dressed … who knows how while important official business is discussed. She just floats somewhere, doing nothing, as far as anyone is concerned.
VIN’S MOTIVATION
Where is it? What does she get out of making this work for Camon if he has no idea what she’s doing? Why is she avoiding him if this is such an important job? Why is she helping him at all?
The pieces are there, but Sanderson doesn’t put them together.
Camon should know about Vin’s ability to “smooth things over” in some capacity. This would give him a serious reason for her being there on this crucial job. Vin should be motivated to help him because if this lucrative job works out, it will go a long way towards paying off her brother’s debt. Now suddenly there is a sense of urgency for her instead of just having a bad time owned by a “crew leader” getting slapped around. The scam itself isn’t enough. Frankly, it’s kind of boring at this point. It’s a slow moving beurocratic swindle.
(32) Kelsier.
Sanderson is doing a good job introducing some thieves’ cant here as Dockson and Kelsier are planning their job, talking about how they need a “Smoker.” Someone is a good Tineye. The loss of a man to the Steel Ministry underscores the mortal risk these men are taking.
But … there’s something about all this crime play that feels a bit cute, like Sanderson had only a passing, generic understanding of (fictional) gangs/criminal organizations. He’s spent his world building energy on the fantasy aspects of the story - the dystopian Tolkien Lord Ruler and Steel Ministry, skaa, ashfalls, mist - but not on developing the criminal world of the characters, linguistically speaking. They’re all crews working on a job headed by a crew leader. This is the world we’re living in, most immediately, and yet it feels the most underdeveloped.
“Kelsier shook his head. ‘No. He’s a good Smoker, but he’s not a good enough man.’
Dockson smiled. ‘Not a good enough man to be on a THIEVING CREW … Kell, I have missed working with you.”
This stopped me dead. I laughed at the book and put my hand over my eyes. “Thieving crew” is just silly. It’s sixth grade D&D language, but even more ridiculous is the sentiment of Dockson’s statement: that character is somehow a moot point because they are criminals. It’s as if he’s saying: we’re breaking the law, so we’re the bad guys, and bad guys don’t work with “good men.”
Here we see Sanderson’s shallow understanding of the characters he’s portraying. They are stealing from slavers who exist in the service of a brutal, oppressive dictator. But put that aside, and consider we’ve just been told one of their ilk had been caught and beheaded by the Ministry. The risk these people are facing couldn’t be higher. Working with people they can trust, a stand up guy or a “good man,” would be one of the most important things to them. From their point of view a “good man” doesn’t mean a patron saint of the poor, but it means a hell of a lot. If a guy is a drunk who cheats on his wife, you can’t trust him not to turn on you. If he gambles too much, you can’t trust him not to gamble on your safety. He doesn’t keep his apartment clean, how can you trust him to be conscientious about keeping you alive. It all matters - even more so because he’s on a “thieving crew.”
Now, Sanderson probably didn’t give this line more than a moment's thought. He was writing fast and sailed right over it. But that’s exactly the problem. It gives the book a kind of childish, YA feeling.
(33) “Kelsier turned with curious eyes.” I’ve written lines like this, but I almost always revise them because I write about eyes too much. The point is his eyes aren’t curious, Kelsier is, and it shows on his face. I can’t picture curious eyes, and I’m sure you can’t either.
And I would cut the next line of dialogue - going to chastise my brother … we already know he was going to do this because he said so, and the line just isn’t very good anyway. A look of curiosity from Kell, and the promise from Dockson “it’ll be worth your time,” gets us out of the section better. Sometimes the best repartee between characters is a look.
(33-34) the scenes with Vin remain heavy handed, and affected. This section adds almost nothing to the story accept for the disappointingly narrow view of a fantasy underworld that the women in it are only ever whores. This from a world crawling with Smokers and Tineyes? I think not. The clumsy presentation of Vin’s awful life is what makes these sections particularly affected. With her particular ability to use her Luck, I can’t help but wonder why she’s even still here. That seems to be the story to me. Not the abuse, but why she remains when she clearly has the power to get out. She can smooth over deals with reps from the SM, but she hasn’t thought to calm some member of the crew and then just … walk? Go literally anywhere in the city and use her Luck to get work where she won’t be whipped and slapped. It seems like the easiest thing in the world, so why hasn’t she done it? This is what the story here could have been, and it would have been so much more interesting.
Obviously she has to be there so Sanderson can have terrible things happen to her so she can be saved by Kelsier just like he saved the other raped scaa girl (let’s all take a moment to roll our eyes) and then her character can have a trajectory from passive victim to active hero - but that’s an excuse, and excuses don’t make good stories.
That said, as is, these two pages could be cut entirely and with very minor revision to the next session, nothing would be lost. It introduces a hideout we don’t need to know about, abuse that is redundant, over the top and unmotivated, and then Camon says “it’s time.” It’s just a prelude, in which nothing happens, before the actual scene. So just cut to the actual scene.
(36) we finally find out what the Camon job was supposed to be, I suspect because Sanderson finally decided what the details were. It would have been much more interesting to know this earlier, just like it would have been more interesting to understand about the particulars of Vin’s brothers betrayal earlier, so we could understand the context of the story being told.
But a LARGER ISSUE continues to emerge. First Camon tells Vin nothing about his plans. She says she is apparently the only crew member who didn’t know what was going on. Then, as they sit in the waiting room, in the vey belly of the obligator beast, he tells her everything. Why? Because Sanderson wants us to know even though he never decided who this character was.
He wants her to be a passive victim of inordinate abuses by a group of irredeemable villains, who only avoids constant sexual assault through the exhausting use of her secret magic so she can be saved and then learn how to be powerful later. But he also wants her to be a smart, capable member of Camon’s crew who is considered as such, because he knows passive protagonists aren’t interesting and because he wants us, the reader, to know what’s going on, and also think that Vin is cool. She can’t be both at the same time. She either needs to be less of an abject, pathetic victim, or she needs to be less involved in this big important scam - and that means she knows less about it and does less to make it work. As is, he’s done too little with either idea of her character and both Vin and Camon are an unmotivated mess.
(42) steel inquisitor. Cool, creepy, disgusting - something straight out of hellraiser.
(43) “Besides, I’m not about to let a possible Mistborn slip away from us” Ah!
Ch3
(45) after the meeting with the obligator (that was a trap), is the first time Vin ever expresses any interest in getting away. Much too late Sanderson gives us a much too thin reason why Vin hasn’t run away (considering the conflicting versions of her character as mentioned before). It’s little more than an afterthought.
(47) in no more than 2 pages Vin goes from never thinking she could make it on her own to leaving for good, telling herself she’d survived sleeping in alleyways before, she could do it again and - “Reen had taught her how to scavenge and beg. Both were difficult in the Final Empire … but she would find a way, if she had too.”
So far, this is all based on a bad feeling. More motivation conflict - Vin has no problem telling Camon directly how his plans won’t work and that he should change the way the servants are dressed, helps him succeed with her luck in both plans, but sees no reason to tell him “I have a bad feeling about this. That was too easy. Why did that obligator suddenly agree. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”
Sanderson has many of the right pieces, but he hasn’t been able to put them together coherently.
(45)(And, just as an aside, I’m not sure why a girl who has spent to book so far reiterating to herself that EVERYONE WILL BETRAY ME is going out of her way to tell Ulef she has a bad feeling and to get him to come with her. Sanderson says “if he would go with her, then at least she wouldn’t be alone.” But he has also up until this point defined her character by a near constant desire to be alone - when she is introduced sitting in the window of the hideout thinking her brothers word “Vin wasn’t on duty; the watch-hole was simply one of the few places where she could find solitude. And Vin liked solitude. ‘When you’re alone, no one can betray you’- (37) at the “It’s just another betrayal, she thought sickly. Why does it still bother me so? Everyone betrays everyone else. That’s the way life is …
She wanted to find a corner - someplace cramped and secluded - and hide. Alone.”
(47) "Bringing Ulef was a good idea. He had contacts in Luthadel." These after the fact explanations are no good. This isn't Vin thinking this, it's the author coming up with more justification for Vin's action, but in order for her character to seem active and motivated, this needed to be revised into the section where Vin decides to bring Ulef. Now it's just tacked on - oh, yeah, and, by the way, if you weren't sure it made sense for Vin to do this, Ulef probably knows people. So, there.
It doesn’t wash. Who is this girl? Can she not stand the idea of being alone, or is it the one and only thing she wants? Is she strong and resourceful in spite of her circumstances, or is she a passive victim? Does she believe everyone will betray her, or does she desperately want to believe otherwise because she can’t live in such an unkind world? Sanderson doesn’t seem to have been able to make up his mind. Maybe some of these details were added in revision on the suggestion of beta readers and the result is a checkerboard character. I’ve seen that before where you make a suggestion to a writer and they add your suggestion but they don’t make the necessary changes to the rest of the book so that the new material earns its place, they just throw it in and dust off their hands - job well done, gotta stay on schedule to publish! But now I’m just writing fan fiction about Sanderson’s process. I don’t know.
(55) Vin’s “weakness” - the contradictions/inexactitude of characters seems to be an ongoing issue for Sanderson, at least for Vin. Is she weak and has to pretend to be strong, or is she strong and often chooses to pretend to be weak (so far she has seemed to be weak and act weak, other than her Luck).
Well, that's as far as I got. Kel shows up just in time to be the wrath of justice for Vin. He's the superman who will make everything alright for this feckless girl. Our hero. Did Sanderson lay it on thick enough? Did you get that these people were all so irredeemably and stupidly bad? Aren't you so glad this strong man has shown up to be Vin's vengeance, just like had been telegraphed all along?
Sorry, I don't mean to be sarcastic. This part of the narrative really isn't so bad, its just been so heavy handedly and clumsily lead up to that there's no thrill in it for me. It isn't a bit satisfying. I'm just glad I don't have to read about any of these shallow side-characters anymore. Except, I have no intention to read on, so I don't have to read about any of them anymore.
Is this book bad? Yes and no. I don't want to read any more, and only read as far as I did as an examination of storytelling, so for me its bad. You only get so many eyerolls before I have to say that. The sentences are very clear and coherent. On their own, they are coherent. Together, they fail to paint of picture of coherent characters who drive the action of the story. If you don't have that, at least in my book, you've got nothing.
The images work. The setting, in its broad strokes, is eveocative. I'd love to set a DnD campaign in a world of ash and a dark lord and all that (I'm not the least mad about the cliché of the dark lord, by the way. Who doesn't love archetypical stories?) But, as near as I can tell, there are no human beings in this book. No one is real. The characters are just that, only characters in a book. They are paper cutouts. They fall flat when the hand of the author isn't pushing them around and making them do things.
Fans often hold Sanderson up as the gold standard of a fantasy author who produces work fast. And having read this far into Mistborn, I can say this about it: It reads like it was written fast.
Yes, Mistborn was an earlier book of his, so I can't judge him by it alone. But it is a work that is so often held up as a favorite by his readers. That's why I picked it up, to see what all the fuss was about. There were many things I enjoyed, but what I enjoyed wasn't the narrative. The story and the characters who moved it were the thing that I enjoyed least. The unique magic and broad setting details and description of places and creepy Inquisitors were what I liked best. The proper nouns were fun.
But proper nouns don't make a story for me. So I did not finish Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.
If I were looking for a light fantasy read that I didn't have to take seriously and I could pick up and put down whenever I wanted because it was never that exciting or particularly witty or clever, but managed to string along one event after another and kept them going, more or less, whether it made much sense or not, until the end, I think Mistborn would be a fine book to dip into. Lots of people have read it. But then, that seems to me to be its major appeal. It’s a book you can talk about with other people.
It's not enough for me, though. There's lots of fun fantasy books out there that feel more coherent, and, well, INTERESTED in the story they're telling. Interested in violence and revolution and crime in an oppressively totalitarian, dystopian world. Interested in the plight of a young girl who only wants … well, what does she want? To be safe? But the only way she finds she can be safe is to go toward danger and realize how very strong she is? Maybe this story would like to be that, but it hasn't been for the first 60 or so pages.
Sanderson's novel felt more interested in the large and vague story shapes around the characters - a city, a dark lord, slavery, soot snow, bad mist, some kinds of magic, and (I cringe to say it) rape and thieving and beatings - but not in the world of their lives.
I've heard good things about The Way Of Kings from people who did not like Mistborn either, but its safe to say at this point that I have reservations about my reading tastes being a good match for Sanderson's work, at least at this point in time.
If I'm looking for fun I'd rather read another swanky, noir fantasy by Douglas Lumsden any day, or the next gothic gaslamp fantasy mystery by Morgan Stang, or discover my next favorite author, indie or otherwise.
I don't think Mistborn was terrible by any stretch of the imagination. Sanderson has delighted readers for over a decade now! He's prolific, hard working, and he delivers what his fans want, and he and they continue to be richly rewarded for his efforts. He is a Name in the genre, often listed alongside the greats. And why not? Isn't pleasing readers what this is all about? Taylor Swift has oceans of adoring fans, and she's no less deserving of her accolades. Brandon Sanderson is the Taylor Swift of fantasy, you could say. I just don't like her music either.
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 10 - Forced to the Starting Gate
Itaru: (I think it’s about time to head out… ah, right.)
Itaru: (Now that I’ve got a rough idea of our performance schedule, I’d better apply for paid leave before I forget.)
Boss: Chigasaki-kun, may I borrow you for fifteen minutes?
Itaru: --Of course.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Boss: It appears you’re all here.
Itaru: (Looks like there’s a few of my colleagues… and a handful of younger guys too.)
Boss: I called you all here to ask if you’d be interested in participating in an urban development project that our company is currently working on.
Boss: The project itself is already in its final stages, so what we’d like from you is to provide support in the form of an induction course.
Itaru: (So this is that large-scale overseas urban development project. The one about creating a theater establishment and developing the surrounding area to be a center of arts and culture…)
Itaru: (I checked out the outline since it was related to theater and sounded interesting.)
Boss: It’s not mandatory, of course. It would just be something to do alongside your current jobs.
Boss: That said… there is a reason you all were chosen specifically.
Boss: As individuals who are important to the company’s future, I truly hope you consider becoming core members of this next project.
Itaru: (Eight racehorses competing in the promotion race line up at the gate. Favored to win is Communication Skills Demon, but My Parents Are Absolutely Loaded is also attracting quite a lot of attention.)
Coworker A: I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.
Coworker B: I’ve been interested in this project for quite some time now, so I’m honored to be part of it!
Itaru: (The gate has opened and both of the favored horses have taken off running.)
Coworker C: Considering the state of my current workload, I should be able to participate in the induction course.
Itaru: I… sorry, can I have a little more time to think about it?
Itaru: (If it weren’t for the timing, I probably would’ve been all in, but…)
Itaru: (Honestly, I’m so busy with the troupe and the Fleur Award right now that I just don’t have time to think about anything else.)
Boss: …Ah, because you have your own theater company to worry about, right, Chigasaki-kun? Please do consider it based on your schedule with that in mind.
Boss: However, the theme of this urban development project is the arts, which is why the other team members were really hoping to work with you, Chigasaki-kun.
Coworker A: …
Itaru: I thank them for considering me.
Boss: I’ll set up another opportunity at a later date to explain more on what the induction course entails and to introduce the project’s team members. I hope to see you there.
Itaru: I will seriously consider it.
*Door closes*
Itaru: …
Coworker B: He seriously can’t just say he’ll consider it and then refuse.
Coworker C: Must be nice being in a position where you can just quit the company if worse comes to worst.
Coworker A: Well, it is a popular theater company, and the fact that it’s generally well-known definitely doesn’t make it any easier for the company to deal with him.
Itaru: …
Itaru: (If you’re gonna say it, at least do it behind my back.)
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Chikage: I’m so sorry, but my hands are full at the moment.
Company Employee A: I see. I apologize for dropping it on you so suddenly.
Chikage: Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.
Itaru: …
Itaru: Wanna head somewhere a little nicer, Senpai?
Chikage: …I don’t even want to try and guess where that might be, but go on.
Itaru: The hell is that supposed to mean?
Chikage: Haah, I suppose I can’t say no. I’ll go with you.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
*Punching SFX*
Itaru: Start by cheesing it and then follow that up with a double finishing move and K.O.! Man, is there any greater high than this?
Chikage: If you’re going to try and hide the way you actually feel, do it a little better.
Itaru: …Ughh, this is so stupid. Why can’t it just be the people who actually wanna be part of the promotion race at the starting gate?
Itaru: I mean, they should dip if they don’t wanna do it. Directing hate at me isn’t gonna go anything.
Itaru: There’s supposed to be a fine line between noobs like them and a mid-tierer like me. Why is it that the more of a mid-ranker you are, the less human rights you get?
Chikage: There aren’t really that many mid-level people to begin with.
Itaru: The company knows what to expect from the “Elite Chigasaki-san”. That’s why they’re hiring guys fresh out of college to steadily raise them into the perfect corporate slaves.
Itaru: I get why my colleagues are so desperate to advance their careers by using their outer appearances and mild manners to do so.
Itaru: From their point of view, it’s gotta be infuriating to see a guy who acts so carelessly while chasing after both theater and a career.
Itaru: And hit ‘em with a triple combo finisher-- But I’m just trying to figure out where I stand, so just eff off.
Itaru: Must be nice for you, Senpai. You go overseas a lot and get to level up your career stats in the least complicated way possible.
Itaru: And the things people say about you aren’t nearly as harsh, either.
Itaru: Me, on the other hand, I’m just stuck being the “can-do guy” who does a little better than decent work around the office.
Itaru: At the end of the day, I’m just a mediocre handyman at best.
Itaru: Even if I’m not being treated like the favorite, I still don’t slack off with my work. I may not be the most motivated, but I’d like to think I’m still doing everything I’m supposed to.
Chikage: You sure move your mouth and your hands a lot.
Itaru: What am I even trying to do in the first place?
Itaru: Should I sell my soul and become a corporate slave like you, and aim so high that no one can ever possibly complain about me not being good enough, or should I try and attain a rank that’s purely “Itaru Chigasaki”?
Chikage: Dad jokes and pro-level dodging techniques, huh? (1)
Chikage: Anyway, shouldn’t your first step be thinking about what you want for yourself?
Itaru: What I want… Well, I guess just to maintain the status quo so I don’t have to deal with everyone’s complaints about me… No, actually, maybe I want to speedrun my way to early retirement with passive income…?
Chikage: Then stop spending money on pulls and start investing.
Itaru: Absolutely not.
Itaru: …I originally chose this job based on the benefits and was lucky enough just to get in, so it’s not like I have any real desire to climb the corporate ladder.
Itaru: Most of the troupe have more than one thing on their hand, but they all have dreams and love what they do.
Itaru: And then there’s me who’s job is just a source of income. I feel like I really don’t have a whole lot to bring back to the troupe.
Itaru: It’s an important time for Spring Troupe to compete, and here I am getting caught up in a promotion race while all my coworkers talk behind my back.
Chikage: So you’re in a position where your hobby is more useful to the troupe.
Itaru: Exactly. To be honest, I wonder if there’s even any point in me continuing to be an office worker, but I don’t have the backbone or the self-confidence to just quit and do theater as my full-time job.
Itaru: Basically, I just wanna have something to fall back on.
Itaru: Ugh~, who would’ve thought I’d still be having these kinds of student problems even now… You ever think about this kinda stuff, Senpai?
Chikage: Well… there’s a variety of upsides to my job.
Itaru: A variety?
Chikage: A variety.
Itaru: Oh, okay. By all means, don’t elaborate or anything.
Chikage: No matter where you are, there are always two sides to things. There’s the side where you’re appreciated and the side where you’re disrespected. It’s not just you.
Chikage: The same goes for me, just with a different set of people. I guess I’m just glad to even be able to do theater activities in the first place.
Itaru: But if we’re actually nominated for the Fleur Award this time around, I doubt the company’s gonna be too eager to accommodate for that.
Chikage: Well, the company does have a performance-based evaluation system. If you can’t contribute to improving the company’s image, you’ll be told you need to be giving your work your undivided attention.
Chikage: At any rate, that doesn’t change the fact that we need the results of our next performance to be good too.
Itaru: I guess you’re ri… Hell yeah, I win! Haaah, I feel better now.
Itaru: Oh, right, didn’t you get asked to do something annoying too, Senpai?
Chikage: Ah… I was asked to accompany a client on an overseas business trip as an interpreter, but I had to decline because I just don’t have the time for that right now.
Itaru: Guess even cheaters like you have it hard sometimes. But y’know, I’m sure there’s tons of people who would kill to have the opportunity to do some sightseeing while all you have to do is be an interpreter.
Chikage: Well, it’s not to a country that I particularly want to go to.
Itaru: But you know the language, don’t you?
Chikage: I guess.
Itaru: Yeah, okay, we get it, you’re cheater.
[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]
• • •
T/N:
(1) Itaru says “役職 『茅ヶ崎至』 に至る” (yakushoku “chigasaki itaru” ni itaru), literally “Attain the position of “Itaru Chigasaki”. The joke is that the verb “to attain” (至る; itaru) and Itaru’s name are the same kanji and have the same pronunciation, hence why Chikage mentions dad jokes.
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jonathan Stims kissing the Admiral sketch
#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#the hairclip is Georgie's#so is the hoodie#and the cat#the only thing belonging to jon are the eyebags#also i might finish this later if i feel like it
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
"The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen."
#asoiaf#asoiaf fanart#lyanna stark#howland reed#my drawings#i wonder how many times i've reread that chapter with meera's story lol#i like this moment esp it's so sweet#and clearly made an impact on howland as he followed ned into the war later.. all the way to the tower#ohhhh you know what now i want a howland and jon interaction. i want them to meet. oh man#asos#anyway i've been in a bit of a slump lately so this isn't great but eh. i've got a few backlogged as well i might upload..sometime#it was super foggy today to the point of not seeing anything which was very cool so i guess that motivated me to finish this#i like weird weather but it should have snowed damn it. there's almost always snow on my birthday so this feels like an ominous sign#also there are odd places in my neighbourhood where tons of crows and rooks and jackdaws gather for whatever reason and i see them on walks#and i always go hmm looks like a feast for crows over there. heh
469 notes
·
View notes
Text
first batch of reqs B)
#rick and morty#rick sanchez#morty smith#umm rnm hugging. trans rick. black morty and summer (didnt feel like drawing the others (pensive)) BRAD.#rick and mr nimbus but liek young rick cause thats silly 2 me. rick with a stim toy. morty doing a murder(on rick. maybe.)#anmd also by the way the bottom left one kinda bangs idk if im like in a sleep depreived state of delusion but i thinkj it looks good#might finish it later. Might not. We'll see
725 notes
·
View notes
Text
When you find out years later that you accidentally named one of your henchmen
Image ID: A multi-panel comic featuring au sanses.
Panel 1: In Killer's original universe. A dark figure stands in the foreground while Killer is sitting back in the snow, covered in blood. Killer says "wh-what are you?"
Panel 2: The dark figure is Nightmare but only his smile is visible. He says "I am Nightmare, guardian of all negativity in the multiverse ...and I have a proposition for you, Sans."
Panel 3: Nightmare's hand is outstreched, he says "Come with me willingly and I'll take you out of this desolate and barren universe and let you loose on many others."
Panel 4: Killer is looking back at Nightmare warily, a thought bubble shows he is thinking "other universes...?". He says "...in exchange for what? What do you want with me?"
Panel 5: Nightmare's tentacles are reaching out towards Killer. He says "I feed off the fear and misery and hatred in this world, stirring these up will keep me powerful enough to fight against the guardian of positivity. In short,"
Panel 6: Nightmare is looming over Killer now, his tentacles surrounding him. He says "I just need you to be a good little killer." The word killer is in red text.
Panel 7: Killer is grasping Nightmare's hand, having accepted his offer.
Panel 8: Now in a different au, Nightmare stands beside Killer as he taunts Dream, who is out of frame. He says "You're outnumbered now Dream, I have a killer with me this time." The word killer is in red text again.
Panel 9: Dream is lying on the ground looking hurt and ruffed up. Killer is standing in the background, looking ready to continue beating Dream up. Nightmare says from out of frame "You should know better than to turn your back on a killer by now." The word killer is in red text again.
Panel 10: Nightmare is standing by Killer again, looking smug. He says to Dream, who is not shown "You'll need more than that pathetic bow next time you meet with my killer here." The word killer is in red text again. Killer is looking towards Nightmare, pleased with this.
Panel 11: We are now in Nightmare's castle, present day. It is revealed to be Killer telling these events to Dust, who looks bored. Killer says "-and the name stuck, so that's why I'm called Killer now." Dust says very quietly "did I ask"
Panel 12: Nightmare is standing in the corner behind them, he looks very surprised and concerned after hearing all this. Text with an arrow pointing to him reads "Didn't realise he had done this." Killer from out of frame says "he doesn't really call me his killer anymore tho" with a frowny face. Dust, also out of frame, says "that's nice now shut up"
End ID.
#UTDR#UTMV#My Art#Truce au#Killer Sans#Nightmare Sans#Remember when I said I wouldn't have that comic done? Sike I finished it earlier#Anyway you ever accidentally name a guy and don't realise until years later when he brings it up#Killer loves it because he feels special for getting his own name that's not just his au#(and also because he wants to be Nightmare's favourite and this is his evidence)#Nightmare hates this. He did NOT mean to name his henchman like a pet he feels awful#Maybe down the road Dream can convince him how much Killer loves it and he'll let it go#Killer absolutely hates being called sans he doesn't want to think about his old life#So the new job and name were kind of just what he needed at the start#Anyway I'm rambling. I just thought it was interesting Killer was one of the few to not be named for his au#And given the name it might be something Nightmare had a hand in#He also helped him find his signature look with the inverted clothes colours but we'll get to that another time this is already too long
365 notes
·
View notes
Text
1 year since re4r has been released and its changed my life sm
#resident evil 4#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#re4#resident evil 4 remake#fanart#art#art by irregular#digital art#re4 remake#re4r leon#resident evil 4 fanart#resident evil fanart#heavy paint#it does not feel like a year ago i remember it releasing like yesterday#also i may be back now that school has finished for the term#will may be posting a timelapse later or might make a patreon and post it on there
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Man I am on a roll !!
Anyways :3
Dark!
Sigghhh he might look a lil odd but like drawing him was fun but coloring wasn't bc I didn't know what to add to make him not look plain asf :(
#:3#stitch art#art#finished art#mermaid au#steve saga mermaid au#steve saga#dark steve#the steve saga#favremysabre steve saga#hope u dont mind the bit of red !!#sighs#design might change in future if i get any better ideas#also if u have suggestions pls lmk!! i am like braindead rn...#goof!!#jap jap jap#dont feel like yapping rn but maybe later..
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
there are too many thoughts inside of me at all times.
#hello friends hope you all are doing well. my words have been abandoning me lately.#I talk a lot and feel like I say nothing. it is truly frustrating.#meanwhile I am doing a bible word study and realizing that all the things I have realized in the past might be valid#(namely the way that a lot of people in my church tradition try to reduce biblical concepts of 'peace' to a sort of inward emotional state#and that's not actually a great way to interpret the biblical concept of shalom. like at all. and massively cheats a lot of communities out#of the actual practical real-life extension of the kingdom and how it's supposed to function)#also I had a minor crisis a few days ago when I looked at a boy who I know only vaguely and thought 'oh. shoot. he's cute.'#I am not used to having these sorts of thoughts or at least not to acknowledging them to myself#not sure why I'm telling tumblr this but I have no one else to tell it to and I feel like I should get it out of my system lol :')#ok logging off again gotta eat some noodles and finish this assignment with is already late#I will see you guys at a later date#(probably not too much later tho bc it is spring break and I am unfortunately stuck at college and there are very few other people here :')#gurt says stuff
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
i am SO FUCKING POWERFUL MY EGO IS THROUGH THE ROOF
#artfight brings out the best in people#including me#my art capabilities are exponentially increasing#soon i'll be able to paint the fucking mona lisa#hey fun fact this started as a sketch#i was like ok yea i've got nothing better to do so i can sketch an attack and finish it later#that was 5 hours ago.#oh yeah uhhh#ultrakill#artfight#art#artwork#now i can use that tag without feeling like garbage#thank you aegis-of-worms and aggravateexe for designing such funny characters#also this might be an ultrakill blog for a while im having a bit of a hyperfixundo and it's higher ranking than murder drones#sorry#but also#L
112 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
shemalebell
Shemale Bellas
mrfredpool
Mr. Fred Pool
yournanasolutions-blog
Untitled
not-dancemonster-blog
notdancemonster
generaljenobi
Hello There