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katsukisbimbo · 2 days

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Silver haze: Peach Ringz

- pairing: ryomen sukuna × reader, gojo satoru x reader, getou suguru × reader, (slight gojo × getou)

- synopsis: who knew letting your fuck buddy roll on your back would lead to sweet forehead kisses and naps

- wordcount: 2.7k

- warning: fem! reader, she/her pronouns, squirting, car sex, use of drugs, smoking, mentions of marijuana, oral, throatfucking, slight dubcon, unprotected sex, degradation, sub/dom themes, creampie, slight size kink, mention of panty sniffing, mention of panty tasting >.<

part one and two

- note: after 3 years of hiatus, i birth this. please enjoy. also for my weed smokers, try the strain peach ringz, it tastes like peaches!

Your eyes widened in fear, the voice startling you to the point where you felt as if your heart was going to jump out of your mouth. You scrambled to cover yourself, Sukuna watching in amusement as he did not move to even protect his decency.

“Why do you always have to fuck things up Yuji?” Sukuna sighs, palm slapping the top of Yuji’s head.

Yuji swats his hand away and grumbles under his breath before speaking. “If anything I’m saving our sweet soon-to-be manager from your corruption.” He points accusingly. “She’s so sweet and you’re taking advantage of her!”. His words echo through your mind, various thoughts rushing from the back of your head as you start to overthink. Has he been using you? What did you even expect from your little excursions with him?

“Hey, if anything, she’s using me.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you tight against his warm body. Yuji turns to face you now, eyes filled with concern and a hint of sympathy.

“Would you like me to take you home? My car’s just around the building. I bet you’re feeling a little cold right now.” His eyes soften. “I can turn on the seat warmer for you. I promise I’ll get you home safe.”

You slowly just nod your head, body and mind on autopilot as you slowly slip away from Sukuna’s grip and he lets you. Disappointment fills his entire being but he doesn’t let it show, but you’re too distraught to notice anyway.

Yuji takes you by the hand and quickly takes his sweater off to place around your shoulders, securing it before wrapping an arm around you and walking away from an irritated Sukuna, his cock now flaccid.

___

The car ride home was a blur, the event had left you feeling dismayed and a tad humiliated. It was your first day meeting Yuji and he had seen you in such a compromising position with his teammate, and in public as well! Thoughts of leaving the country and changing your name were heavy on your mind, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest decision especially when you have Suguru and Satoru to care for.

“Babe? You home?” a voice calls out.

Satoru probably, you think. You take your comforter and pull it over your head, dread filling each nerve of your body. This whole day has been a weird blur and all you’d like to do is sleep and pretend it never happened.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, voice brimming with concern. He knew, they both knew, but they wanted to know what you would say. If you’d keep your little shenanigan up and lie to them once more.

“Please leave me alone.” You mumble, voice muffled by the thick comforter still covering your head. You feel comfortable and safe, but it is at that moment when Satoru decides he’s had enough and rips away your comfort and safety straight through your fingertips.

Before a yelp even leaves your throat, you’re being tackled by two oversized grown babies, each at your sides. Their limbs are long and wrapping around you, fingertips desperately but gently digging into whatever skin they can find. And their faces are close, so close you can smell the skin of their necks and cheeks, their pheromones causing you to sigh in delight.

“You both smell so good.” You sigh once more, eyes shut in absolute bliss as Satoru slowly starts mouthing at your neck, a trail of pecks with the occasional tongue darting out to taste you. But it was okay, Satoru always did weird things like this.

Suguru placed his large hand on top of your chest, palm cupping your breast, but even that was normal too. You three just had a close and affectionate relationship. There was nothing wrong with that. At least that’s what they both had told you.

“I know. You’re a weird little freak who likes to sniff me.” Suguru laughs, index finger tracing around your nipple and smirking when he sees your little bud stiffen up from a mere touch. Your breath hitches, maybe his finger just slipped.

“No, I’m not, I’m not Satoru.” You huff.

“Yeah, he’s worse. He likes to sniff your panties when you’re gone.”

“Are you fucking serious? Satoru!” A loud smack echoes through the room followed by obnoxious laughter and yelling.

“I was just sniffing it but HE was tasting it!”

“You both better be fucking with me!”

“Of course we are, we’re not crazy.”

They were.

___

A few days had gone by without seeing Sukuna, you decided that it would be better to turn down the position you were offered. In your opinion, Sukuna hadn’t done anything wrong, you’re a consenting adult and you liked it.

But it was just the embarrassment as well and his indifference to both of you getting caught in the act. You knew your relationship wasn’t serious, but you at least thought he would’ve cared a little more about your well-being and feelings.

You are human after all.

“Hey beautiful,” A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Was that on purpose?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your skull. Of course, it was on purpose and he knew that. He wasn’t stupid. “Take a guess.” You grumble, not even sparing him a glance as you speed up a little. His large hand grabs your forearm and spins you to face him, pulling you against his body, an odd habit of his.

“Can we at least talk? Maybe sit down in my car so we can have a private space? I’ll drive us somewhere quiet. I just wanna apologize.” You look at him with a raised brow and he sighs, raking his free hand through his unruly pink hair. “Jus’ hear me out, princess.”

___

You watch him as he rolls a spliff on his lap, his little weed bag containing jars of weed, a grinder, papers, and a pen. You weren’t sure what the pen was for. Maybe for emergencies.

“Do you have to smoke every time we sit in your car?” You grimace as he lights it, the pungent smell hitting you quickly. He smirks a little and wraps his pink lips around the filter, taking a long drag before turning and blowing it towards your face.

“Yeah, I do. What else am I gonna do? Not smoke?” He raises a brow. You roll your eyes. He offers you a toke and you gladly take it, needing to expel the irritation and stress coursing through your veins.

“I’m really sorry pretty girl, I am.” He starts and looks down at your lap, unable to meet your eyes as you take a few more hits. “I was a dick. I still am. I should’ve covered you up n shit.” He sighs. “Yuji ripped me a new one after he dropped you off. I feel really bad ‘nd I jus’ wanted to say I’m sorry baby.”

The weed in your system causes you to just lightly nod your head, eyes nearly fluttering shut as the familiar feeling of being high rolls through your body in what feels like waves. Your eyes shut and you feel the spliff being taken from your fingertips.

“Say something, princess.”

“S’fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just have some respect for me, that’s all.” You whisper lightly.

“I promise I’ll respect you so good baby.” He grins, handing you the spliff to take the last few tokes. “So…” He starts. “We’re good now right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can you suck my dick?”

“…Yeah.”

He quickly discards the roach, a giddy smile on his face as he hastily unzips his pants, not even taking the time to lower them and only pulling his stiff cock out, giving it a few strokes. You watch, entranced by the way his precum pools at the tip.

You can’t help the way your thighs squeeze and your mouth fills up with saliva. “Taste it, baby, I wanna see your slutty lips around my tip.” He speaks huskily while stroking the base of his fat cock.

You find yourself leaning over, seatbelt off in a flash and his cock in your mouth, tongue licking up his leaking cock. Sukuna throws his head back in bliss, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. All he can think about is fucking your slutty mouth ‘til you’re choking down his cum. He can’t decide if he wants to cum down your throat or cum all over your pretty face.

“Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock tastes? Throat that shit baby, I wanna feel your throat squeeze my cock.” You feel his large hand on top of your head pushing you down, and you let him. You like it, you hate to admit it but you like the way he treats you. It feels so lewd and so wrong but it makes your pussy wet anyway.

“Fuck my dicks already numb baby. I need another fucking spliff.” He mumbles before reaching for his little bag once more. “Keep sucking my dick baby. I’m jus' gonna roll on your back so don’t go too crazy yeah?” You garble out a response, throat tightening around his cock.

You continue to slobber and lick at his cock, careful to not move your back too much as you feel his jars lined up on your spine, his grinder and tray placed carefully on the left side of your back. “You’re so fucking good for me baby, my dirty little slut sucking my cock. Fuck. You look so fucking good.” He groans, licking the paper and smoothening the sides to make the perfect cone. He then uses the pen to lightly push the contents inside, making sure to not stuff it too much.

“Almost done baby. Lemme get all this off of you and I’ll face fuck you.” You moan in response, feeling yourself relax a tad when you feel the pressure taken off of your back. He lights his spliff and you take that as a moment to catch your breath, pulling off his spit-soaked cock.

He whips his head and glares at you. He wants to be mad, but seeing your face streaming with tears, covered in precum and spit. He feels like he wants to give you a baby right then and there.

“Did I say you can stop sucking? You’re my sex slave. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to. So fucking do what I say or else I won’t fuck you.” He growls, his heavy hand smacking your ass swiftly and pushing your head back down on his throbbing dick.

“Show me you’re sorry baby. I wanna see how fucking sorry you are.” You nod tearfully. Your hand cups his balls, squeezing and playing with them in your palms. “Oh fuck.” He moans, head thrown back with his spliff held between his lips.

You relax your throat and swallow his entire cock, your face pressed tight against his pelvis. His fingers dig into your scalp, loud moans leaving his lips. “Shit. Fuck. Stay down there. Keep it down your throat baby.” You start gagging, your untrained throat failing you. “Imma cum baby, imma give your throat a fat fucking load ‘cuz you deserve it.” He moans, shallowly fucking his cock down your throat.

You feel his entire body go stiff, a loud moan breaking the short silence. You feel his cock twitching down as well as his cum going straight down your throat, his cock lodged so deep inside that swallowing was unnecessary.

He wasn’t lying, he did have a big load. You pull your head back, coughing and spitting out his large load. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. Everything feels wet and sticky. Your saliva had dripped down your chin and soaked your shirt. You’ve soaked through your panties and you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather of the seat as you sit back down.

“Tissue?” You croak out, looking at him as his chest heaves. His eyes snap open. “No.” He states bluntly. “What do you mean no? Look at me! I’m so messy!” You complain, feeling the remnants of his cum drying on your skin.

“Get in the back. I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Can I at least clean—“

“Get in the fucking back.”

___

“Suguru, she’s not answering her phone.” Gojo whines. He was a petulant child indeed. Getou sighs, irritation building. He knows where you are and who you’re with. He’s just not sure what to do about it. He wants you. Both of them do.

Sure, Gojo’s a bit more straightforward and spoiled, always expecting everyone to bend to his will. But Getou knew that if you made your choice, there would be no changing your mind.

“Hello? Suguru? Are you ignoring me?” Gojo whines once more, stomping his foot like once again, a petulant child. Getou sighs in annoyance.

“Stop acting like a kid. You know where she is, and you know what she’s doing.” He pauses. “What do you wanna do about it?”

Gojo smirks.

“I have an idea, I’m just not sure you’re up for it.”

___

The world's spinning. At this point, you’re ready to leave the earth. Your body’s gone numb and you’re struggling to breathe once more as Sukuna tightens his grip on your throat.

You’re laying on your back in the backseat of his car, legs hooked over his shoulders as he fucks into you, slow but rough. His cock batters against your cervix causing your toes to curl in both pain and pleasure.

“You’re so fucking creamy holy shit. I’m gonna have to detail my car after this.” He laughs lightly. “Every time I squeeze your throat your pussy gets tighter.” He moans, fucking into you harder.

“I wanna see you squirt on my dick baby. You think you can?”

“M-Maybe, I’ve never squirted before.” You squeal when his thumb slides down your entire abdomen and presses against your clit, the rough pads of his fingers expertly playing with your sensitive parts. He watches your facial expressions attentively, figuring out what feels good and what doesn’t.

He craves to have you lose yourself on his cock. He wants you completely dick-drunk and bending to his will. He knows you can. You’ve been so good for him, it feels as if you could be the one for him.

“Sukuna!” You moan. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen. Your pussy grips his cock tighter and you feel as if you’re about to cum, eyes rolling back into their sockets. “‘M g’nna squirt!” You mumble, too far gone in your pleasure.

“Yeah? Squirt baby. I wanna feel you soak my cock. Squirt for me and only me.” He groans, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. He doesn’t know how much longer until he loses himself. But he knows he wants you to cum first.

The pressure in your abdomen snaps and a string of whines and moans fall from your lips. Your whole body trembles as you squirt, soaking your entire bottom half as well as Sukuna’s. But he’s not satisfied. He wants much more. He continues to bully your clit with his thumb, synchronizing each thrust with a roll of your bud.

“S’kuna! I can’t! Too sensitive!” You squeal, hands gripping his forearm tightly but he doesn’t let up. He knows what he wants and he’s gonna have it.

“I’m gonna fill this fucking pussy up. I don’t give a fuck about your two bodyguards.”

“Wait! Don’t!”

“I don’t care.” He smacks your hands away. He grips your wrists in his large hand and pins them above your head, his other hand occupied.

“I’m cumming baby~” He moans, thrusting his dick as deep as his can, grinding his tip against your bruised cervix as his cum paints your walls white.

You’re both left trembling and heaving, his cock still twitching and emptying itself inside your cunt. You wonder if you’ll be able to experience this type of sex with anyone else. Or if you’ll think about the way Sukuna makes you feel your entire life.

“Wanna go back to my place and nap? We can pick up some Wingstop.” He gives you a toothy grin before kissing your forehead. You can’t do anything but nod tiredly, throat still sore from Sukuna’s abuse.

But you wonder, was it normal for fuck buddies to kiss each other's foreheads so gently?

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simp-ly-writes · 3 days

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.7)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Kidnapped, heartbroken, and thoroughly pissed off, you become a one man team- breaking through restraints, into houses and cars to find a way back home.

Warnings: 5000~ words, light swearing, blood, violence, torture.

A/N: these chapters keep getting longer and longer it seems. I will try and hold back my yapping... anyways! hope you all enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | un-edited.

Body bruised and scraped from being thrown around with the various landscaping tools around you, your head slammed against the door as the vehicle came to a halt. You took deep breaths in and out, picking up the dead-fish smell in the air. You were near the industry sector and by the sounds of the gravel crunching beneath everyone’s feet, you were upshore.

Three slams against a metal door and it creaked open and you pushed inside, stumbling with the bag over your head and losing balance as your feet were chained together as well. Shuffling back to a stand, the men above you laughed before a bucket of ice cold water was drenched over your body making you instantly shiver.

Breathing in through your nose sharply as the bag was then torn off your head, you found yourself lazily strapped to a wooden chair- it creaked everytime you shifted your weight. Eyes blurry to the newfound light, you blinked a few times before the once blob in front of your face turned into features and a broken-toothed smile was gracing just before your lips. Their cigarette breath causes bile to rise up in your throat yet you kept a natural expression, staring between their eyes to the crooked bridge of their nose.

A cigarette was being lit to your left side, they flicked the ashes on your suit as the sparks burned against your skin. Taking a quick glance down, you tried not to frown seeing your once beige suit now a tattered mess of brown and grey with various cuts breaking the soft plaid pattern. The head man, the one to choke you in the first place, takes a step back and sits on a metal chair behind himself, taking a drag of the shared cigarette before mockingly dangling it in your face. “Want a drag, dearest?”

You make no comment, just staring off past his shoulder, silently observing your surroundings for more clues. You press your head against your shoulder, mocking a scratch behind your ear as your comms flood your eardrums once more. Samantha is crying and losing her actual shit as John raises his tone at one of the nearby officers- not allowing him to check the security footage. That makes sense as to why Samantha is currently losing it- more unnecessary work to hack into the system.

Thinking to yourself, this is more relaxing, getting to sit down and take a break, being on the receiving end of the saving than being the sole savior. You can’t help but produce a small smirk as you roll back your shoulders and lean back into the chair, spreading your legs for comfort. “You gettin’ comfortable there? Good, enjoy it while you can. God knows- I know- the work you’ll be doing after this with a body like yours.”

You chuckle, foot now dragging up his leg and positioned in his lap. “But why go through all the hassle, sir? When I could stay, just, right… here” you foot ghosts over his lower abdomen, you relish the sharp intake of breath that signals success. “Mmm, well as good as that would be for the both of us…” he takes a drag of his cigarette, finishing it off on your leg as it places a burn mark on your ankle. “...my brothers could use someone like you, a fighter, a killer of their own. Takes a special kind of fucked up to do the things you have done…” his hand now drags up your leg, fingers dancing over every cut to touch the skin of your leg as you stay still.

“...and if you remain that kind of person for em’, I can only promise rewards beyond your imagination,” he finishes with, stopping his chase of skin at your upper thighs before carrying your leg off his lap and standing. “Now before we get started, is there anything you wish to tell your newest contractor?”

“And what information would that include?” you press forward, blinking twice. “Anythin’ you are wishing to share before I force it outta ya, making both of our jobs easier.”

“Ask your men to leave and I’ll be an open book, can have a nice date about it,” you counter-offer, smile returning to match his one. With one motion of his hand, the room clears outside of the warehouse, the rusty door creaking closed to a slam. “Speak.”

“I was contracted to Greece in order to capture that royal you were after-”

“Who was your contractor then?” They lean forward, as if smelling your hair as you face forwards, tone even. “Undisclosed- manager wanted utmost privacy and I respected that, which made the job easier in the end.”

“And if the job was as easy as you said, why waste tears over a tool to be used for the bag?” They whisper into your ear, you swear to feel them smirk as a bead of sweat drips down your forehead, racing towards the muddied floors below. You wrap a leg around your chair, your hands almost free from the cheap rope they used from the gardiners truck as you access the best way to take this man to the ground and to make your escape.

“I am loyal,” you state, the one truth you have slipped today. “Well that is a blessing and a curse, we have a dilemma on our hands already with you…” His hand drifts up, resting on the back of your neck. You pray that Samantha shuts the fuck up in your ear, unknowling if he can hear her screaming or not. “...Very, very loyal it seems. I am disappointed. Seems as though you already need a lesson, a shame.”

And with that, his fist slams against the bag of your head as you fall towards the floor, finally freed. You snake your feet around his ankles, forcing him down with you and cover his mouth with one of your hands, racing to unhook your necktie as you force it around his throat, trying to buy yourself more time by muffleing his pain. He uses his body weight to roll out from under you, slamming a kick to your side as you curse out. The tie falls around his neck as he wobbles to a stand and you begin to run, hearing the doors slam open as your hand just graces the exit.

Bullets are flying around your head as you duck and weave over the various barrels in the room, looking for a window as another set of guards burst through the door you were just about to use. Quicking throwing yourself back around, you twist your arm with the motions, a series of knives falling from between your suit's fabric and directly between their eyes. Pressing your hand to your ear, “I need immediate evac, industry sector, meeting at south rally point when available.”

Glass cuts across your face as you fly out the window and roll into a run. Trees rip past and blur your surroundings as you follow the sun above you. The sounds of the sea call to you as you make a sharp turn in their direction, their shouts muffled by the ringing in your ears as you hear your shallow breathing, feel as if time is moving slowly for you once more as your body jerks forward. A dull aching feeling against your back, they managed a shot.

The sound of a boat horn slams through your consciousness as you slip down a hill, lengths over extending as you race onto a rammed road filled with cars against the coastline. Drivers honk as you race between cars in the road, policemen call after you, guns raised as well as you race to the front of the accident. A series of cars wait, driving slowly past the crash, the car nowhere to be seen but the rip in the divider separating road from sea as you shake your head before ripping over a divers door.

The woman shrieks at you scream out apology after apology, ripping the keys out from her hands before slamming on the gas and racing down the seaside. Sirens sound from behind you as you see the red and blue lights flashing in your rearview mirror as you curse out. Drifting around a corner as the radio decides to start itself in the junk of a car you managed for yourself.

You roll your eyes at the “white girl” music plays through the radio as you find yourself soaring through another seaside town, car picking up the various displays set on the small street as lights attach to your side mirrors, carrying them down the street with you like a “just-married” car.

You make a sour face at the thought, eyes saddening as look around your surroundings for directions to the nearest rallypoint, the cops in mad pursuit still behind you, some even sneaking up the road in front. A spike trap sounds, popping your wheels as sparks behind to fly, you punch open the window as the song finishes to your bumper crashing into the side of a building. You fall out the side of the car, running up the skin as your legs and lungs burn. Adrenaline causing your hands to feverishly shake as you climb up the lattice of a townhome and crash into their living space. A little boy screams at you as you hold your hands up, pleading that you do not mean to harm the small child before you race down the galley kitchen and slam into the wall, turning to find another glass door to a balcony where the next apartment appears empty.

Jumping across the balcony and onto the next, you break the glass door, and feel for the door handle on the other side. It is dark and sparsely decorated. You feel around the kitchen for a cup, taking a minute to take a sip of water from the tap before throwing the glass to the floor- trying to hide any biological evidence of yourself before looking wildly for the stairs downstairs.

You fail to hear your communications during this chase, your radio buffering in and out as you curse out to Simon's concerned voice asking for an update to your location. You finally find the stairs, emerging onto the town streets once more as you hide yourself in an alleyway. Watching as the blue uniformed men and women carry up the street. Looking over the various backdoors, you find a logo with a dress on it and softly open and close the door to what appears to be a storage room.

You shuffle through the various boxes, finding a range of formal garments and finally at the back, a box of clothes to be donated; shoes and casual wear alike, as you strip yourself of your tattered suit and force it into the bottom of the box. You press your hair down, taking out your earring- knowing that they would make you some serious cash from being pure gold as you strip off your watch with a sad wince. Note to self, no longer wear gifts on missions.

Walking back onto the street with a more casual stride, you find a pawn shop a few blocks down as your stomach gurgles and gain a few thousands dollars that you stuff into your pockets as the shopkeeper does not bat to fucks to. Clothes, Money, check and check.

You just needed food, a good drink and a car out of here. Thankfully you found a small street-side vendor as you ordered yourself an espresso shot and breakfast sandwich as your mouth salivated at the sight of it. Humming out contently at the taste of it as you walked back down to the seaside to examine your destruction- stealing a hat off a rack as you walked down the streets. The fedora covered your features as you pressed your head down, taking another sip of your drink while eyeing around for a phone.

A tourist couple was just about to pay for a bill- perfect. “Excuse me,” you smiled brightly at the two of them, “Is there anything we can help you with?” The woman asked kindly, her charming posh british accent relaxing your features. “Yes, would you mind if I made a quick call to my spouse on the phone- I can’t seem to find them down here.”

“Ah, no problem dear! Here you are, take as much time as you need, we are just finishing up here.”

“Thank you so much!” You flash another smile back, turning your back as it drops just as quickly, your fingers fly across the digits as two rings pass and Kyle's voice sounds in your ear. “Who is this?”

“Oh Kyle darling,” you fake a loving tone, breathing out an exaggerated sigh of relief as your eyes scan the streets. “I can’t seem to find you anywhere, see I am waiting at…” you look up to see the restaurant's name. “... Lola’s, where are you currently?”

You humm to every word he speaks, nodding your head lightly as you grip the phone, smiling at an officer that passes you by with a tip of their hat. “The team and I are about thirty minutes out from your location, are you able to keep this phone?”

“No, sorry dear, I do not see you, ummm, is there a place we could meet up between the both of us?”

“I am dear now?” Kyle chuckles out, “What happened to darling?” you roll your eyes, coughing for him to cut the crap. “Walk 10 minutes east through the alleyways till you see Pearl Bar and Shop, silver car.”

“Alright! Heading over now, see you in a few sweetheart!” and you end the call, sending a thanks to the couple before making your way back into the town core. Various scooters race past you in bright colours, kids kick their soccer balls around the fountain as mothers sit on its ledge, snapping pictures happily. You smile sadly at the sight, your eyes drifting back to the sea, to Whitby, as a cold breeze snaps against your skin as you stumble from the pressure of its ghast and slide back into the alleyways- towards the meet point.

“You look like shit,” Soap comments ever-so-kindly with a chuckle before offering you a sip of beer as you sit at the back of the plane on your way back to headquarters. “Well you kill fifteen guys, one of them your potential spouse, get kidnapped, traumatize a child and then sit on a plane with four men for the next few hours.”

“Well when you put it like that…” you shove his shoulder, walking further up the plane and check up on Simon in the cockpit. “How much longer we got?” you groan out, pressing your head against the doorway as Ghost takes a quick glance back at you, setting the plane to autopilot. “You holding up alright, Handler?” Not answering your question as you send him a glare.

“What do you all fuckin’ think- you all seem to high and jolly with this shit-”

“And you appear like it's not affecting you all that much-”

“WELL WHEN ELSE HAVE YOU SEEN ME A DISHEVELLED MESS IN A FEDORA AND SANDALS?” you scream out, taking another deep sink of your drink, sliding against the wall and to the floor as Gaz unbuckles himself from his seat to kneel in front of you. “I am sorry you have had to go through these things, Dee…” you shake your head at his words.

“No you all don’t understand-”

“No, we do Daniels, and here's the thing. It only gets more fucked up from here on out, you lose the ones you love, you hate yourself for it, you want to fucking kill them yourself for making you feel guilty, kill everyone, kill yourself. We all wanna do it, we all have people we are fighting for- livin’ and dead but here's the thing. Its a job at the end of the day, no matter how fucked up it is, no matter how much we cry and bitch about it- we do our job so that other’s hands stay clean,” John states, turning around from the other piloting seat as he now leans against the doorframe, looking down at you.

You stay quiet absorbing his words as he continues to speak, “we will mourn the loss, he was a good man- a great man to all the good he did for others but he wouldn’t want you this way. Not even right after his death- he always cheered on your fight. Now the decision is up to you, are you staying to fight or are you gonna wallow and retire?”

You nod your head along before slamming your head back against the metal wall, needing the coldness to ease the tension in your muscles. “I’m gonna fight,” you speak in a soft tone- still trying to convince yourself of the idea. “... thank you, John. You’re the first person to not sugar coat my losses… needed to hear it.”

John hums out, leaving down to give your shoulder a squeeze in an awkward side hug before taking control of the plane once more as Simon moves to take a nap at the back of the plane. “Want another beer?” Johnny yells as Simon throws a pillow in his face. You press your hand into a thumbs up, leaning so the signal is visible from down the hall as the glass bottle rolls to your feet as you and Gaz take sips while in a staring contest with one another.

12:00 PM | Spring | Eglinton Funeral Home and Cemetery

You are severely drunk at Whitby's funeral, his parents stand to the side, unknowing to who you and your entourage was that stand at the back underneath a willow tree whose branches drift off towards the sun's rays. 141 and you are dressed to the tens in three-piece suits, pure black accents - you all are shadows of yourselves. Watching as the family and friends walk away you step forwards and stand in front of the open casket, the first thing you notice is his missing glasses. Fixing a hair on his rested head your fingers shake over his cheek before grasping his hand one last time. To your surprise when you unravel it, a diamond ring falls out into your palm as you chuckle back a sob and place it into his suit pocket- right above his heart.

You bow your head, whispering a prayer before taking one last look and finally turn your back on the past. You stumble in your shoes over the uneven pavement stones towards the event hall where ushed cries and somber music play with trays of fresh fruit displayed against the back wall. You blow your nose into your handkerchief before guzzling down a glass of water as Gaz pats your back reassuringly when a family member walks by, glaring at your group. They all didn’t know the shit you both got up to together, how close you were- close to so much more…

Shaking your head, John came back with a plate of fruit for you all to pick at as Whitby’s will is read aloud. You need to sit as you fumble with the buttons of your suit, suddenly feeling too hot as the rest of your crew stands around to shield you from the curious stares of the fellow funeral goers. “Friends, Family, and those connected to Sir Wyatt Whitby. We gather here today to remember a man of great strength, who served his country and had a great sense of humor.”

A series of posh chuckles sound around the room as you feel yourself mentally drifting further and further away from this moment. You would have never fit in with his family, if you ever were to tell them of the danger you put their son into… you probably wouldn’t be breathing any longer… and with that thought, there was a deep part of you that believed you deserved such treatment from your more recent history.

In the few months leading up to the funeral, Whitby’s body had been frozen and preserved so that the headquarters could stage a more believable death to the agent for his remaining family and outside friends. This violently disgusted you, having to see him every time you went to check biological evidence with the scientists in the west wing. Yet John’s words were concrete, pouding in your skull, “fight like he would want you to…” and so you did, and rather brutally at that.

You forced yourself back onto the field, demanding it from upper management- refusing promotion after promotion as Samantha became your new Handler in this turn of events. You often wore dark blue navy suits to hide the blood that drenched every part of the fabric as you shot and hacked away at various bodies on your missions. No witnesses to be left between you and the goal. You will never forget the fearful eyes of that one politician as you gripped their shoulder into the helicopter, your bloody hand staining their crisp white shirt and some of it began to drip into your eye from your hair yet you could not care.

Management was thoroughly satisfied with your independent work- you were the most requested contractor. Money was following in- so much so that you lost reasons to spend it, letting the stacks build under your floorboards and in your jacket pockets before you were floating between bodies, drugs, and the bottom of empty bottles with glasses smashed against dust on the bartop.

You were far gone, everyone at headquarters joked that you had taken form to a rockstar as you flipped them the bird. Sitting at your desk as you choked down a coffee and pain medication, your head still pounding in rhythm to last night's DJ as you swirled around your desk chair, looking up at the ceiling as if you were dancing.

Laswell had called you endlessly, begging for you to reply after every night so she knew you made it home alright, that not another one of her close friends was gone in this line of work. You Stopped replying, 141 never showed up for their last mission, and when you looked at yourself in the mirror- you were as good as dead. Severe bags under your eyes, sex hair was your new hairstyle as lipstick stained every shirt you wore- matching the deep reds of your suits. You were fighting to keep yourself alive, is this what Whitby would want? You chuckle darkly to yourself, calling out to the new secretary that you would be taking your break at the storefront as you lit a cigarette, tapping the embers to the street as your ankle burned in memory.

You leaned against the bright building, blowing the smoke to meet the clouds above as you savoured the bitter taste in your lungs. Your throat burned for more drink, your eyes dry but when a shadow overtook the sun, you opened your eyes- surprised to find them closed and saw a masked-face man tilting his head down at you. “Hello Simon, come to tell me off?” you press, throwing your cigarette to the ground and stopping it down with your boot.

“No. But I am here for our last mission.”

You humm out, trying to rack your tired mind as to when you have received a new debrief. “Fill me in them,” you state, feeling around your suit for another distraction before a gloved hand grips your wrist gently, pulling it out of your suit jacket and down to your side. They do not let go, just looking over your shoulder before leading you back inside the building where Laswell waits, leaning against the counter as she speaks to Samantha. Gaz views the various ties in the display cabinet as Johnny forces himself not to touch the various new products in the windowsill. John observes everyone from the front door and you can’t help the heartache that bellows in your stomach to the scene before you- so reminiscent of your first meeting together.

Laswell runs over, pulling you into a hug as her nose scrunches up at the bruises against your throat and the cigarette breath you breathe. You pat her back stiffly before she pulls away, wiping away a few tears as you lean against the stair railing that leads to the supplies room upstairs. Simon stands still behind you, giving Samantha a nod as she turns back around the counter and disappears into the back.

John walks slowly up to you, replacing Kate as he frowns at the sight of you. You wince at his features scrutinizing your every decision that leads to now before looking down at your boots, unable to meet him in the eyes any longer to the guilt that consumes your being. “I would say it's good to see you again, but I was worried you would be something like this when we got called back-”

“Thanks John, just what I wanted to hear…” you interrupt sarcastically, moving around the man to hug Gaz and Soap in greeting before sitting on top of the counter- right beside the till. Laswell leans against the wood beside you, looking through the various emails on her phone as you start to tap your nails against the treated wood.

“... I fought, long and hard I hope you all know. But now… now I think- I don't actually think,” you laugh to yourself as Gaz winces, looking towards his Captain who had yet to drop his attention from you. John walks up to you once more, holding up your chin so that your eyes meet. You cast him a cheesy fake smile as he hums out, “I’m sorry…”

“What for?” you raise a brow, not clicking in his somber tone as Laswell stares sadly into the side of your head- thinking that you are unknowing.

“For not showing you what to fight for. It's one thing to say something, another to not follow through,” John finishes speaking, dropping his touch as you hold your head up more clearly as you look around the room. “Not your fault, everyone!” you announce, clapping your hands together as you move to stand and walk around the counter, trying to move back to headquarters- brushing off the words. “Sorry for making you all come back here, I’m still here, no need for worry or anything…”

“But that's just the thing,” Soap comments as you snap your head back to face him. “We are staying here for our next mission.”

“Then what is this fucking mission?” you stress back out, pinching the bridge of your nose as the nicotine has started to wear off.

“You,” Gaz states simply, throwing a tie your way with a smile.

“Now it's time to get to work,” Laswell announces, shoving you through the door as you begin to protest and that's how you found yourself here, at this funeral with a bunch of strangers unknowing to his actual death and task force 141.

Your attention snaps back to the will presenter at the sound of your name, “And to my dearest-Dee, thank you for teaching me that the present is enough of a gift that you need not worry about the past or future. I love you darling, and maybe one day we will dance together again but for now- it's time you took some lessons and find a new partner, I will be waiting to see all your new moves and maybe then you will finally tell me your first name.”

You burst out laughing, it echoes throughout the hall, cutting through every tear, sob, and face filled with sorrows. Your shoulders bend up and down rapidly as you clench at your stomach, folding yourself in half as you almost fall off your chair. Soap was not there to place a hand to your shoulder to halt any further movements. You look up to the ceiling, watching as the sun casts through the skylights above as you blink away your tears, trying to even out your breathing while fanning your cheeks with your hands as the reading presumes once more and you make your way outside.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @cod-z

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insanely-lovely-and-random · 2 days

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Alrightyy saw Challengers for numero uno tonight and these are some thoughts/things that really got me the second time round!

*Thess are just my opinions the film can be read however anyone else wants

Okay so hear me out.. Tashi is such a dom, Art is such a sub and Patrick is such a switch and oooh it got me how at the beginning it felt like he was Arts dom, then he finds this girl he thinks is fantastic and maybe he thinks she could be the glue to bring him and Art and her all together BUT then it totally fricken backfires and instead he loses both. Art the little puppy he is starts wagging his tail in Zendayas direction and next thing ya know he's got a new owner and Patricks a thing of the past much to his palable distress. I mean christ boyos living in his car and starving, boys a mess since his lost his dom and sub poor boyo, so now various things I noticed some of which I feel back up my argument haha

Gosh theres so many little moments, Patricks thing for Art seems so obvious yet Art seems totally clueless.

1) Patrick is defos bi, not just because he just so is but also cause he matches with a guy on his dating app during his swiping.

2) The doubles match they play in the past? Gosh they're all over eachother! And Pats clearly in charge of that relationship and Art seems totally cool with that (for then anyways..)

3) When him and Art are watching Tashis game at the vert beginning Patrick grabs Arts leg in exhilaration. I mean he always seems to be touching or in the space of his boy for christs sake.

4) When Tashi mentions the fact Arts going to Stamford Patrick noticeably makes a face, you could say its because shes paying attention to Art instead of him or that hes upset because shes going to college instead of going profesh BUT I really didnt read it that way. To me it looked like he was upset Art was going to college, they've been together for years after all and now their splitting up, poor boyo.

5) When Zendaya asks if theres anything going on between then, Art laughs and says no BUT Patrick??? Science and he looks down, hell he wishes there was summat.

6) He taught Art to jerk off. Fucking hell.

7) There kiss man, all three of then and then just Art and Pat, just soo much chemistry.

8) When he reveals he slwpt with Zendaya to Art, and Arts smile drops. I think he's heartbroke at him sleeping with the girl he likes but I also see it as pain at being left out. These two people he's entwined with and now he's outside looking in. I also think If Patrick had seen that reaction he'd have seen a looot sooner that his relationship with Tashi might backfire greatly.

9) Patrick vsiting Stamford, first person he goes to see, his girlfriend maybe..? NOPE hes too busy chasing Art around the tennis court 😭

10) There's a ton of hot moments in this film. And the hottest? To me? That bloody stool grab with his foot. He wants Art close, he always bloody does! And the churros christ! And once again showing Art who's top so to speak, eating his churro, and telling him hes proud of his snakey behaviour. And that it makes his relationship with Zendaya hotter (I bloody bet it does) He never ever seems to show jealousy about Arts feelings for Zendaya, he points out thay he doesn't see him as competition to her not long after and I BET his doesn't. Cause I think he'd love it if Art was with him and Zendaya.

11) My God this bit gets be cause it gets echoed later. Him and Zendaya are making out and this girl who he's with and cares about is just talking bout his tennis game. And tbf what does he say?? "Weren't you gonna tell me bout Art" hells bells could you be more obvious?? And then the fight, he asks her if she's talking about tennis and her reply "I'm always talking about tennis" and I mention this cause it's gonna be relevant later.

12) The injury happens and everyone loses something. Zendaya has lost her career and ability to play tennis to her full potential. Art loses his best friend and Poor pathetic Patrick lost his bestfriend(and secret love) and his actual girlfriend all in one day!

From here on I cant guarantee my numbered points are in timeline order as the timline stated getting more out of sequence🤣

13) Zendaya and Art in the diner and after hearing Art and Pat dont talk no more saying she's a homewrecker after all. And what does Art say?? Zip. Nada. No denial just silence.

14) Okay lets talk that sauna scene. It was gloriously tragic. Patrick is clearly unaware why Art is THAT hostile towards him. I mean thinking of it from his point of view he'd have more reason to be angry considering the snakey girlfriend behaviour. But he never is angry at Art, not once no matter what he did. Of course we then discover Art is SO pissed cause he knows about Atlanta. Christ I bet pur stupid idiot boy Patrick thinks hes just being cleverly smug with that "when we were teenagers" line but idiot boyo your rubbing salt in the wounds 😭

15) still about the sauna, the naked trying to be top dog like old times but no no no, not anymore. Arts not his to be in charge of anymore. And the camera shows Art as higher while Patrick slouches nearby. Patrick asks him when he's so mad but doesn't get an answer. This scene was tragic to me, Patrick just seems hurt by Arts attitude. Art points out that they're no longer peers and I love this because thats the difference between the Zendaya/boys relationship and Arts and Pats. Pat may have been the dom so to speak with Art but he still saw them as peers. Zendaya doesn't. Thats the main difference in their relationships. Respect.

16) One of my fave damn parts of dialogue in the movie. (I really can't remember exact phrasing but this is how I rememeber it) Art is so sus of Pat, Pat asks him if he misses it, Art says he doesnt. And when Pat says he wasn't talking about tennis, Art says "Your always talking to me about tennis" and oof the punch to my gut that was. And it seemed to Patricks too! His face, this poor boy has twice been talking to the people he cares about, abou their relationship and they just say their talking about tennis, he cant catch a break😭

17) Pats reaction to Zendaya asking him to throw the game, is he offended for himself? Nopeee he's mad that she'd do that to Art. He says something along the lines of fucking him was one thing but to have Arts victory be a lie?? Gross, too far, too much of a betrayal.

18) For the third time, having just fucked Zendaya in the car and she just immediately brings up him throwing the match, like crimeny man this boy is probs sick of this game getting in the way of his relationships haha

19) Ooh that match point is glorious glorious cinema my friends. Patrick is so interesting in this whole match. Him deliberating on if he's gonna tell Art? So juicy and the way he did was fucking hilarious. That unspoken signal? Beauty.

20) Arts reaction? Wow oh wowww. The lad went through the five fricken stages of grief! The denial "fuck off!" the rage, throwing his racket, the bargaining, looking at Zendaya as if to say its not true (when she has no fucking clue what just happened). The depression, those sad sweaty tears 🥲 and then? That gorgeous smile, that acceptance. I think he felt catharsis, his marraige was clearly dysfunctional at this point and maybe knowing she cheated, knowing she'd threatened to leave if he lost, maybe that helped him let go of it. Ripped off the bandage, turned off life support, finally shake the pedestal he'd put his wife on( he compared her to jesus for christs sake). He made it through to the otherside and Patrick was there waiting for him with open arms ()iterally lol)

21) When Pat sees Arts smile? His own blossoms, clearly in relief and exaltation. I truly think he told him not to throw his game but to spur Art on. To finally unlock his potential. And to get the old Art he knew back and it bloody worked. That final back and forth, the pure energy, those sexual grunts all building up to a crescendo of a climax. Hooo boy

22) That goddamn brilliant leap in the air. Art is freed and flying, and Patrick doesn't hesitate he flings his racket to the floor because the thing that mattered to him most was never tennis. And he catches his boy with arms wide and then that embrace. They have finally come back together. It was beautiful. What does losing the match matter to Pat when he finally has his arms all over Art again just like he did in the beginning. We have come full circle.

Hahaha this is purely my own read into the movie and obvs mostly about the Patrick character and how I saw his actions. Now a few little bonus notes I noticed.

Nearly everything the boys eat/drink seems phallic, hotdogs, bananas, churros, even those drink bottles and cigarettes. Boyos are obsessed!

Zendaya on the rock at the beach was very little mermaid. Also in that scene when she said she wouldn't wanna get between em. Art said they didn't love together but Pat says "It's an open relationship" hecks you too obvious boy.

This movies so chock full of foreshadowing too, the story about Cat who got injured a week later. Patrick at Tashis party saying she'd have deals and a foundation which she does but via her relationship with Art instead just really cool script tbh

(Will probs add more when I remember em/see it for third time cause I am planning on that🤣🤣)

#challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #movie list #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist #bisexual #the bi energy is strong #film #it's so long and such nonsense I just got a brain firing on cylinders for this film lmao

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asapeveryday · 17 hours

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We Have Now

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Warnings: lil bit of angst, suggestive content

Summary: The season is over, the seniors have graduated and the summer has begun. The future holds a lot of uncertainty, but your feelings for Nika have never been uncertain. Is it too late for you?

A/n: I just can’t resist summer themed fics. Also I’m ngl this is NOTT my best work so I’m sorry for that… enjoy anyways.

“Holy shit!”

Through the window of your bedroom you can see the sunset has turned outside an entrancing mix of tropical colours. Pink, purple, orange and yellow mix in the clouds and paint the world around you for a moment, and you know you need to see it up close.

You rush down the stairs and past the living room, where the rest of the team is sleeping on the couch with a movie on in the background.

It had been a long day for everyone, the team had planned to spend a couple days of July at an airbnb in Rhode Island back in February, and the plan thankfully took off.

The day had been filled with a long car ride, various TikToks, loud music, unpacking, swimming and barbecuing. Everyone was exhausted.

When you rush out to the deck you’re encapsulated by the scenery. Sunsets were beautiful, but even better by the beach. The white sand and deep ocean water against the rich setting sky was something out of a book.

After taking about a hundred photos and videos, you put your phone away and just stood in astonishment.

Playing basketball with these girls at Uconn was one of the biggest blessings you’d ever received in your life, and you were going to miss them so much. You often found yourself swimming in old memories at night, memories of locker room conversations, late night drives, shared playlists, loud Friday night parties, shared looks, useless yearning and post game tears.

You’d already gone through your sad feelings at graduation though, and the draft had brought some more light to the situation. You had no regrets whatsoever about your college career, except for maybe one thing. And that thing was on the beach right now.

Nika was laying on the sand, just far enough from the ocean to avoid getting hit by the high tide. She didn’t say anything when you laid down beside her, the both of you just stared at the darkening sky as the sound of waves filled the silence.

“Remember how different things were when we first met?” You finally say after some time.

Nika quietly laughs. “How could I forget?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Gosh, I thought you were so weird.”

“You were weirder.” She grumbles.

“You just thought all Americans were weird.”

“Because you guys are! I never saw so many overly confident basketball players who were so bad till’ I came here.”

The two of you laugh together for a moment, then it’s quiet again.

Your hand is excruciatingly close to hers, but neither of you move closer.

“Everything’s so different now.” Nika mumbles, almost to herself.

You turn your head to face her. Nika’s side profile is strong, prominent nose, perfect lips, sharp eyebrows and expressive eyes. Her cheeks are pink from being out in the sun. You have the urge to make them pinker, but you shake the thought away.

“Yeah. Everything is different…but that’s a good thing”

Nika nods solemnly, but you can tell she’s thinking hard.

“Niks, don’t worry too much okay? Things work out if they’re meant to.”

She brings a hand to her face, covering her eyes and muffling her voice, which slightly wavers when she says. “What if I don’t make it?”

With this you give in and take her hand, squeezing it tight for a moment.

“Baby they’re lucky to have you. One day with you and they’ll know you’re needed on that team. Everyone else knows it for sure.”

“Says who?” Her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t just assume this’ll work out. What if it doesn’t? What the fuck do I do then? All my work will have been for nothing.”

“If Seattle doesn’t see you as an asset to their team, then I assure you there’ll be another team just waiting for you. Everyone here knows how valuable you are as a player, and the internet wouldn’t let anyone forget.”

She isn’t very convinced, but she turns her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes remind you of a puppies eyes. “Thank you.” She says, sincere and slightly embarrassed. Her hand is still in yours and your noses are almost touching. You wonder if she’d ever talk to you again if you kissed her.

At the thought of that, your stomach sinks. You sit up suddenly, hand breaking from hers. You don’t see how her face drops when you do it.

“I-“ you start, but hesitate. You didn’t want to regret anything like this again. You wanted her to know every thought in your head, even if it had a chance of going sour. “I’m really gonna miss you Nika. More than anyone else, I think.” You finally manage to get out.

She sits up now too, her brown hair blowing in the salty wind, her almost hazel eyes glinting from the reflection of the water, or perhaps something else, something like hope.

“More than anyone else?” She questions you.

“Yeah.” You say, turning to meet her stare. “I’ve always liked you more than the others.”

“Hm.” She says, as if she was expecting more.

The silence is eating at you, you just want to scream out how badly you want her. You know it’s too late, when this trip is over everyone splits. You to your hometown, Aaliyah to Washington, Nika to Seattle, Paige and the others to Connecticut. Still, you didn’t want to live with this in you forever.

“I had a massive crush on you during freshman year.” You utter as confidently as possible.

Nika’s lips part in surprise “You- you did?”

“Yeah. Major.” You scoff. Those days were almost pathetic in hindsight, obvious to everyone but Nika and yourself.

You watch as Nika draws swirls in the sand with her finger. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head.

“And…when did this crush fade away?” She finally asks you.

You let a beat pass before sucking it up and saying. “It didn’t.”

Nika’s eyes really widen now. You hold her gaze as best as you can. “I never stopped liking you. It just got stronger overtime, actually.”

You almost recoil when she scowls at you.

“Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Fuck!” She rubs her face, exasperated. “You- urgh, I wish you told me. I wish you told me way, way earlier.”

You don’t say anything.

“I wish I knew. Don’t you get it?” She whines, almost pleadingly. “God, if you’d told me way earlier we could’ve…maybe we would’ve..” she trails off.

Finding out that Nika Mühl, your best friend and longest love, also loved you should’ve been the best moment of your life. Instead it had you thinking of everything that could’ve been.

“I was scared.” You mutter. “I was so, so scared, I don’t know why. I wish I’d just told you, but you know me. I never take chances. I pass the ball, I don’t make the shot. I just…I wouldn’t have been able to take it if you didn’t feel the same. So I never did anything.”

She’s close to you now, hand on your knee, face flushed.

“What are we gonna do?”

You stare at her face, eyes darting from her eyes, then lips, the her eyes again.

Her eyes are beautiful. Honey brown, golden in the sun but piercing now at dusk, eyelashes long and fluttering as she tries to make sense of this situation.

You’ve wanted her more than you’ve wanted that ring at the end of the National Tournament every single year. The thought of you wasting time that could’ve been spent pressed next to her, skin to skin and soul to soul? It was sickening to you.

Still, here she was. Eyes begging you for something you’ve dreamed of. The sky now staining the beach a violent pink.

When your mouth meets hers it’s everything you’ve fantasized about. Her lips are full and soft, fitting perfectly against your own. You can feel her lashes tickle your face as you tilt your head just right, her arms get goosebumps when you fiddle with her hair.

Pulling away from her, you can’t help but melt at the satisfied smile on her face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Nika says. “I just wish it could’ve happened earlier.”

“I’m tired of wishing.” You say, putting a hand on her face gently. “We can’t change anything now. It’s over. But we have today.”

She drinks in the feeling of being this close to you. “We have now.” Nika whispers.

Your kisses are sweet and chaste at first, but it’s getting colder out and you need her warmth. She changes the pace, clashing into you with a sense of urgency now. When her mouth slightly opens and you feel her tongue against yours you know it’s over for you. She can have whatever she wants.

Nika finds herself straddling you now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything that’s happening.

After four years of thinking of her before bed, before letting your hands take care of yourself night after night to the thought of her, here she was in all her glory. Body toned and breathing hard, hair sprawled against her tan skin, fingers untying her bikini top.

She leans into you, but instead of kissing you she puts her mouth to your ear. You can feel her smirk against your skin.

“How much of the past four years do you wanna bet I can make up for in one night?

#Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction #uconn wbb #light angst #angst with a happy ending #rpf #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #nika mühl #uconn women’s basketball

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thefourchimes · 2 days

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okay, just gonna say this now before i start this post: i have absolutely no problems with alternate universes, go ham with them, go wild, you can have fun, etcetc, they're called alternate universes for a reason, after all

however. HOWEVER.

i have a problem when people say something should have happened in canon, when canon itself disproves or goes against whatever these people want

the reason why im bringing this up?

the whole thing with how some people keep saying mirabel should have [insert the usual things people say here, hate, slap, punch, left, get revenge, etc, take your pick, there's unfortunately a lot to choose from] the family. in the canon movie.

again, i have no problem with alternate universes and seeing them in fanfics or whatever, you do you, could be interesting to see even

but when you start saying this should have happened in canon, its just. no. no.

god, it just frustrates me so much whenever i see these posts and comments, the ones that said she should have gone evil or villain or hate the family and all that stuff

because mirabel herself loves her family. she literally said it outright in the movie!!! its not in her personality and character to just go against them and hate them and want revenge. there will be hurt and hesitance and some resentment after everything she'd gone through, yes, but outright hate to the point where she'll hurt them?? absolutely not.

not with her character, her love and empathy and understanding, the traits we see her show in the movie.

like my friend once said: mirabel "he loved this family. i love this family. we all love this family" would NEVER hurt her family

say it louder for the people at the back!!

and thats not all i want to rant about tbh...the real kicker on this one?

whenever this statement is added on top of it all: "if i were mirabel—"

well, news flash people who keep saying these things, mirabel isnt you. mirabel is her own character who has her own experiences and her own feelings. maybe you'll be able to relate to her, especially with similar experiences, but that doesn't mean you can just copy and paste your own feelings onto her and say this is what she should have done in canon because thats what i would have done!!

we all project onto our favorite characters in various ways, which is completely fine, go at it and definitely not surprising for a story about family issues, but when you start to project so much that you throw away the character's actual personality and characterization in favor of said projection? yeah...no.

thats not mirabel madrigal anymore, that's a completely new character...or dare i say, a self-insert for some people... 💀:////

yeah, im just so frustrated with this AAAAAAA 😭

but anyway yes.

thats it, really. again, AUs are absolutely fine but if someone starts yapping about how canon should have [insert whatever those people keep saying here] instead while disregarding actual canon and proper characters and personalities, im going to become violent

anywho...thats my thoughts on this, went on a bit of a tangent but

yeah

anyway bye—

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #kept going through some comments and posts in the past and i felt violent #and decided to rant #uhhhh hope this makes sense #and that im not being insane or something #but yeah #whoop—#overthinking and doubting again but #i will prevail aaaaaaaaaaaaa #but anyway yes #this is all for the people who had comments on how “canon should have ended like this!!!”#im so done with them pls

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genopaint · 3 days

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Week 16 of the Daily Dragon Challenge is here! Apologies on the delay for posting this... I was lazy. BUT!! We're finally in the 100's!!

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #105 - Garchomp

Figured it'd be the perfect time to draw this fella since I just beat Platinum for the first time yesterday! Sadly I didn't end up getting one on my team but they're SUCH a cool dragon all the same

Daily Dragon #106 - Rex

One of the cutest Mario dragons! There's just something so charming about this little guy

+ 2 variants

While drawing this it really dawned on me how interesting this enemy is. It's one of the many Mario enemies that only appeared in 1 main series entry, but unlike a lot of other similar enemies it just will randomly appear in spinoff content a lot. Not even just as cameos, but like actual tangible enemy appearances. It's been an enemy in 3 games post SMW, 4 if you count the Minecraft Mario thing. That actually puts it over a LOT of random Mario enemies, but it still doesn't appear enough to be a Mario staple enemy. idk just kind of interesting to me lol

Daily Dragon #107 - Shelly Draws

A kobold with a passion (and a horde) for Trading Cards! She loves trying out new ones, and dreams of one day making her very own. Her favorite food are hamburgers.

This is a redesign of an old kobold girl from a Monster Girl design challenge thing I did back in 2016! Sadly I don't remember her name, but I do remember that I gave her a passion for trading cards. Which is more important than a name anyway, so I gave her a new card-pun name

Daily Dragon #108 - Koibito

My friend Sox's super cool Piranha Dragon! This design is super cool and I love Dragon hybrids of any kind! Thank you for letting me include them in this challenge!!

Daily Dragon #109 - Neonagon

Strange 2D creatures that appear on walls in cities. Be careful when using regular weapons on them, because their appearance doesn't make the walls any more malleable!

Another redraw! This was from a prompt request I made in 2020! I think it's a neat concept and it was a simple to do and I kinda didn't have huge drawing energy today lol

Daily Dragon #110 - Field Dragon

These incredibly tiny dragons are just slightly larger than berries. They use their spikes to collect various pieces of food while out and about, as well as breaking open seeds and nuts to eat!

Daily Dragon #111 - Fumedradon

Odd fume spewing dragons that are always found laughing and moving oddly as their nests are filled with the strange smoke the billow out. If you're going to deal with one, wear a gas mask

is... is this the first holiday dragon so far??? of course i ended up only doing that on THIS holiday and not any other.... Also 4/20 landed on day 111 isn't that neat :)

#dragon #dragons #character design #creature design #kobold #scalie #anthro #pokemon #garchomp #super mario world #fanart #my stuff #oc

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olderthannetfic · 2 days

Note

I just got a comment saying I should have tagged for dom/sub undertones and I'm a little confused. In canon, this guy always bosses his wife around re: doing shit that's healthy for her - napping, drinking water, remembering to eat more than once a day, getting more than 3 hours of sleep - and she lovingly calls him "Boss Man" as a nickname because of it. On some occasions where she's gone more than a day without eating he'll swipe her phone and order her to eat before she gets it back, something she always seems to find endearing. There's a lot of 'I didn't mean to worry you', 'you're worth worrying about, now here's your favorite homemade walnut bread' stuff, all there in canon, just lifted from canon and transplanted into my fic.

Is this dom/sub stuff? I'm aroace so I've never been in a relationship, but I assumed "take care of yourself" "I will but I will call you a silly nickname over it" was regular relationship stuff. Or is it that the frequency of it makes it dom/sub stuff, and I'm just not grasping that because my neurodivergency is making me not read the social cues correctly? I was only recently diagnosed but this has been a problem for a long time, the whole line between normal and abnormal behavior, so I thought I'd ask you. You're much more well-read than I am and know a lot more about shipping dynamics and how they're tagged. I feel like you're an expert whose opinion carries a lot of conclusions-informed-by-knowledge and so your take could help me figure this out.

People who are doms or subs or write them, if you have a guide on this stuff, that'd be cool, too. I want to educate myself more so I know if I should tag something. After all, I can't get my story to people who want to read it if it doesn't show up in the tags they're searching for. Readers aren't mindreaders. It's on me to make sure they can get ahold of the things they're looking for. I just need to work around my own ADHD-addled brain to do it.

I think this is the usual pattern of demanding silly tags that would only make sense in that reader's own bookmarks.

Yes, caretaking and food control of various kinds can be a part of BDSM. No, your description of canon does not make it sound like this has obvious undertones.

Readers are going to have different interpretations. It's possible that other readers would agree with this one. I have my doubts. I suspect they're projecting. But sure, maybe other people would think there was some of that vibe.

However, if you did not intend the fic to read this way, I would not add the tag. This is not what the fic is about.

As for what this kind of thing can look like when it is intended as a dom/sub activity, the movie Secretary has a bunch of examples. She calls him on the phone to tell him what her family's dinner looks like that night; he gives her instructions about which things she can eat how much of. The way she acts while making that phone call makes it clear it's an exciting game to her. Another time, he tells her she's not allowed to cut herself anymore: he will provide what she needs.

Even if the characters are being playful, just nagging someone to do basic self care doesn't really come across as this. It's more charged when it's an intentional power exchange thing.

It's more like... hmm... if you and a friend agreed to LARP as characters for a day. Even if you were acting fairly normal and doing things you'd often do anyway, there would be this added extra vibe to it that someone who knew you well could probably detect.

It's not so much about the specific behaviors: it's about the extra meaning those people ascribe to them. If it doesn't seem like the canon characters think of this caretaking any specific way and you, as the fic author, don't see it that way, then I don't think it will generally read as a dom/sub thing to most readers.

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goldenempyrean · 2 days

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Under The Same Roof

〚 Notes - These two cuties are my new favourite obsession for the time being so please excuse this. For some reason these fics do far better on ao3 compared to here :P anyway! enjoy ;D 〛

〚 Pairing - Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca 〛

〚 Summary - After moving into Maya's apartment, Carina is meant to spend her day off unpacking her stuff. Instead Maya comes home to a very sleepy, sick Italian asleep on her sofa. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2600 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Thing’s had been going really well between Maya and Carina lately. The two were currently in the midst of moving in together, there was a plethora of boxes with various possessions strewn about the apartment. They’d both been so busy that unpacking had been forgotten about in favour of making the most of their newfound closeness. However today had been Carina’s day off from work, she had been planning to make the most of it – to spend the day cleaning, unpacking, organising. Doing everything, she could make this place into their home.

But her body had clearly had other ideas.

Carina had woken up that morning with a scratchy throat and a heavy head. She rolled over with a groan, her arms searching for the comfort of her girlfriend but the bed beside her was cold and painfully empty - the firefighter’s shift wasn’t due to finish until later tonight.

She sniffled, pulling her fluffy pink robe around herself as she dragged herself out of bed. The fabric did little to ward off the shiver that ran over her olive skin. The Italian coughed weakly, tracing her fingers down her throat afterwards as she whined softly to herself. This really wasn’t how she had planned to spend the day...

Shuffling through the maze of boxes that littered the floor, she headed to their bathroom. She stood over the sink, staring at her bleak reflection in the mirror, grimacing as she took a dose of the cold medicine she’d found in the cabinet.

Carina sniffled again, reaching for a tissue as she blinked away the tears she could feel welling up at the corners of her eyes. She had been looking forward to this day, to finally settling into their new home together. But now, with her body feeling like it had been hit by a truck, the thought of unpacking boxes and cleaning all day felt almost impossible. Carina didn’t know why she felt guilty about it., it wasn’t like it was a job she’d been asked to do specifically. But still, the thought of being sick and miserable all day, unable to do that one thing she’d wanted to get done had the corners of her lips wobbling slightly. Maybe she was just overtired and feverish – that always made her easily tear up but there was something else. Something she hadn’t felt in a while – a longing. All she really wanted was to be with Maya right now.

She longed for the warmth of Maya's embrace, the soothing touch of her hand on her forehead, and the comfort of her presence. But Maya was out there, saving lives and fighting fires, while Carina was here, feeling utterly helpless. Neither of them had been sick in their relationship yet. Infact according to the firefighter herself “she was incapable of getting ill” which the OB/GYN obviously knew was impossible but nodded along lovingly anyway. At least she could relate to it somehow, the feeling weakness was something she hated. Carina prided herself on being strong and independent, yet she was here clinging to a stupid bottle of blue liquid just to make herself feel better.

Hold on, blue liquid? Carina’s eyes furrowed as a sinking realisation hit her. Her eyes cast down to the bottle she’d just discarded. Nyquil? She quickly swung open the cabinet to see the bottle of Dayquil sitting innocently, untouched on the shelf. Of course she had taken the wrong one...

Well, at least that explained why she had still been feeling so drowsy. With a resigned sigh, Carina simply just grabbed the tissue box from the countertop and shuffled back over to their bed, snatching her pillow and the duvet from the unmade bed before stumbling out to their living room. She didn’t even bother opening their curtains before flopping down onto the sofa, letting the tissue box fall onto the floor beside it.

Carina sank into the plush cushions of the sofa, her body feeling heavier with each passing moment. She buried her face into her pillow, seeking solace in its familiar scent mingled with Maya's. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional sound of a passing car outside or the faint creak of the floorboards as their upstairs' neighbours moved about. Alone in the dimly lit room, Carina closed her eyes, allowing herself to succumb to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her.

...

Maya had, had a good day. Honestly work had been fairly uneventful – mainly calls for the aid car. She’d tried ringing Carina around lunchtime, but she’d gotten no response so had left her a voicemail instead. It was a little weird that her call had been unanswered, but she simply presumed the Italian had forgotten to charge her phone again.

The first thing that caught her attention was the boxes still stacked up in the entranceway. She could’ve sworn she remembered Carina mentioning that she was going to unpack them on her next day off. It’s probably fine, she must’ve just gotten busy with something else, Maya thought to herself as she hung up her jacket. But the second thing she noticed was just how quiet it really was. Typically, whenever she came home Carina would be bustling around, maybe cooking something delicious or buried in a book whilst playing some music in the background. But today, there was an unusual stillness in the air.

“Honey I’m home.” She called out playfully as she finished taking her shoes off, placing them neatly on the rack, “Carina?”

Maya’s brows furrowed at the lack of a reply. As she moved closer to the living room, she noticed the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains. Any worry she had been feeling quickly melted away as she caught sight of familiar brown curls hanging loosely over the edge of the sofa.

“Hey, didn’t you hear-” The firefighter began but stopped, her mouth open still as she brought her hand to her face to silence a laugh.

Maya couldn’t avert her eyes – no matter how hard she tried. The scene in front of her was just too cute beyond belief that she couldn’t quite look away. Carina was asleep on the sofa. But she wasn’t just curled in on herself or huddled under a blanket. One of the Italian’s legs was half hanging off the edge with the fabric of her pyjama pants rolled up above her knee, meanwhile, one of her arms similarly was actually touching the floor, hanging limply by her side. Her usually perfect brunette hair was now messy and tangled as her head rested an angle which just couldn’t be comfortable. Meanwhile the clearly discarded duvet was sitting in a heap on the floor beside numerous balled up tissues.

Honestly, she was torn between waking her up or letting her rest, by the looks of it, Carina clearly needed the sleep. The flushed pink hue sitting on her pale cheeks told her all she needed to know. Carina was sick. As quietly as she could, the firefighter crept into the kitchen, searching through her dedicated “Junk drawer” before finding what she was looking for. The thermometer.

Pruitt, their old captain, had pestered her into getting one a few years ago after a bug had gone round the station, and it was easier for the crew to check their temps at home instead of lugging themselves to the station to use the one they kept there. Truthfully, it had never been used, which is exactly why it had ended up in the drawer to begin with. Of course, Maya would prefer it to be under any other circumstances but least she was finally getting to use it now.

Maya tiptoed back to where Carina lay. She knelt down beside her and gently brushed a strand of hair away from Carina's forehead, revealing the slight sheen of sweat there. With a soft sigh, Maya slipped the thermometer under Carina's tongue and waited anxiously for the beep indicating it had finished its reading.

Honestly, she was quite amazed that Italian hadn’t woken up throughout the whole ordeal, but it made a lot more sense when the device beeped quietly, and she looked down at the screen to see “102.2” displayed on its small screen.

“Oh sweetheart.” Maya murmured softly, her hand gently cupping her girlfriend’s cheek, “You should’ve called me silly girl, look at you, I could've looked after you. Poor thing.” Her musings fell on sleeping ears, but it didn’t really matter. The blonde leant forward to press a loving kiss to Carina’s forehead before standing up, tiptoeing back to the kitchen.

Truthfully, she wasn't the best good. She usually opted for taking any leftovers from the station or just heating something up. It wasn’t to say she didn’t cook sometimes but it wasn’t necessarily her favourite thing. But Maya knew what she needed to do. She quietly searched through one of the brown boxes sitting on the kitchen floor, searching through Carina’s stuff before eventually finding what she had been looking for.

Carina loved cooking. It was why Maya had remembered that one night, as they were cuddling and mumbling sleepily to each other. Carina had mentioned one of the recipes in her cookbooks. It wasn’t anything super complicated, quite the opposite. Soup. The doctor had told her it was something her mum used to make for her, she’d described it as “homely and warm” and the Italian had promised to make it for her the next time Maya had a rough day. Now Maya was going to make it for her.

She flipped through the pages for a moment before landing on the right one. Gathering the ingredients, she laid them out on the worktop before dawning an apron and grabbing a knife. The recipe said to ‘cube’ the vegetables and while her technique wasn’t perfect, she made it work. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board was oddly soothing It was strangely therapeutic and she had really gotten into the zone. It was probably why Maya almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise from the living room

“Hih’tshhu!” 

Maya’s head perked up from the vegetables she’d been chopping, glancing over her shoulder to peek into the living room. She could see her girlfriend sniffling quietly against her knuckles before watching as her shoulders tensed up, her upper body bending forward slightly she silently stifled another sneeze against her wrist.

“Bless you princess.” She called out from the kitchen, pivoting on her feet to come over and press a soft kiss to Carina’s cheek as the sleepy Italian rubbed her eyes tiredly.

Carina blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Maya? What... what time is it?" She mumbled groggily, pushing herself to sit upright.

“Around 6-ish sweetheart,” Maya checked her phone, flipping it around to show her the time, “How long have you been asleep for love?” She asked before picking up the duvet from the floor, and tucking it over her girlfriend, not having to worry about waking her up anymore.

Carina rubbed her eyes again, trying to shake off the grogginess that clung to her. "Feels like I've been out for ages," she muttered, snuggling into the blanket as it was pulled over her. "I just feel so... bleh." She found herself leaning into Maya’s touch as the blonde cupped her cheek once more.

The firefighter came to sit beside her, smiling fondly as Carina instantly leaned against her, letting her head rest against her shoulder, “I’m sorry sweetheart, did you wake up feeling bleh?” She asked, gentle concern lacing her voice as she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Carina's face.

Carina nodded tiredly; her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she managed to open them again. "Yeah," She admitted softly, her voice slightly hoarse, "I think I caught something from work. My throat feels scratchy, and my nose keeps racing.”

“Running, baby, your nose is running.” Maya corrected her fondly, her hand gently combing through the brunette’s tangled curls. Carina’s knowledge on English phrases had come far but she still slipped up every now and then, and honestly nothing was more adorable, “Did you take any medicine or anything before you fell asleep?”

Carina let out a tired chuckle, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Right, running," She murmured in acknowledgement. She was probably too tired to actually remember it for the future, but it was enough for now, “I accidently took some of the blue goo, instead of the daytime one. I forgot its name.”

Maya nodded, knowing what she meant, “You took Nyquil then? No wonder you were so knocked out, poor baby, did sleeping help a little at least?”

The Italian mumbled and shrugged a little, instead choosing to wrap her arms around Maya as she cuddled up to her. The two stayed like that for a few minutes, neither one wanting to ruin the silence as they just simply held each other.

But suddenly, Carina’s stomach emitted a loud growl, breaking the quiet moment. She hid her face in the blanket slightly, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. "Oops," She blushed sheepishly, "Guess I'm hungry."

Maya chuckled softly, "No worries, sleepyhead," She said affectionately, "I've got something that’ll help, I just need to finish it off.” With that, she stood up, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Come on, let’s get you something warm to eat."

As they made their way to the kitchen, Carina kept the whole duvet wrapped around herself, looking like she was in a cocoon as she shuffled her way there. Maya wrapped an arm around her waist and hid a giggle before helping Carina get settled on a chair.

“Just sit tight.” She said lovingly before turning back to her ingredients. It didn’t take long for her to prepare the rest of the soup, stirring the simmering pot and occasionally tweaking the flavours until it was just perfect. They had recently bought a fresh baguette from the nearby bakery, so Maya buttered a few slices, sitting them on the edge of the bowl before serving it up with a giddy smile, “Here you go sweetheart.” Her eyes gleamed with pride as her girlfriend looked up at her in surprise.

They ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds filling the room being the occasional clink of utensils against bowls and the occasional sniffle or cough from the doctor. After finishing her soup, Carina leaned back with a contented sigh, feeling a bit more energized already. "That was amazing, bambina," she complimented, her eyes shining with appreciation.

Maya beamed at the praise, feeling a swell of pride at being able to provide comfort for her girlfriend. "I'm glad you liked it, sweetheart," she replied warmly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers. She gently squeezed her hand, concern etched on her face. "You should probably rest some more baby," Maya suggested softly, her voice laced with tenderness. "I can clean up here, and then we can snuggle up together on the couch?

Carina smiled gratefully and let her girlfriend help her to stand as she yawned, "Thank you, Maya," She murmured sleepily as the blonde helped her back over to the sofa, "You're the best."

“You don’t have to thank me love,” Maya smiled as she made sure Carina was comfortably settled, “We’re under the same roof now, I’m always gonna look after you.” She knew it was likely that by the time she finished cleaning up that Carina will have already fallen back asleep already but that didn’t matter – she was still going to do all she could to make sure her girlfriend was okay.

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @observeowl @bloomingflowersthings @lots-of-pockets @somber-sapphic @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlight @natashamaximoff69 @natashamyl0ve @wandanats-goodgirl l @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @inluvwithfandom

#carina deluca #maya bishop #station 19 #marina #maya x carina #maya bishop sickfic #carina deluca sickfic #marina sickfic #station 19 fluff #maya bishop fluff #wlw #lesbian #sickfic #whump #fluff

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sp1d3rzz · 15 hours

Note

Okay, hear me out, I'm going to make a very silly request in light of your recent "would you still love me if I were a worm" posts. Let's say reader has a shape shifting quirk, can turn into various animals, and sent the infamous question after figuring out how to actually turn into a worm with the intention of pranking bf later. They've never done it before, so bf assumed it was a hypothetical/just for the meme. But when he gets home later, there's a little dish full of dirt in the middle of the floor, and his s/o is just chilling in there as a cute little worm. How do the boys react? Please answer for Shoji and whoever else you feel like.

FIRST ASK AHHH TYSM ANON ( ´ ▽ ` ) anyways ahem...

Warning !! : js fluff <33

Shoji, who figures your texts about the whole worm thing is just another one of your shenanigans. So imagine his confusion when he gets home after a long day of patrol and doesn't see you at your usual spot on the couch. Watching that one show you like so much as you cuddle up in a blanket you've since before you two began dating.

When he walks through the apartment looking for you, hoping that each room he steps in will contain you and that gorgeous smile of yours with a small, "Welcome home, my love.", you're not there.

Though when he's just about to leave and go search for you, he notices a small bowl full of dirt randomly placed onto the kitchen counter.

How could he have missed this? Why was there dirt on the counter after you both cleaned the whole place yesterday? It makes no sense.

But as he takes a closer look, he notices a small, slimy, bright pink worm wiggling into the dirt. It doesn't seem scared though. Not panicking to escape the warm palm of his hand as he picks it up and observes.

That's when everything clicks.

Your texts, your shape shifting quirk, and your sometimes unbearable need to prove everything right, finally hits him.

He stared blankly at you, big eyes watching at you curl into a small ball and stick your round head up out him a letting out a small squeak that even his enhanced senses could barely hear.

"Really?" he sighs, tilting his head a little to the side.

He did say he'd love you, even if you were a worm.

#destinedtowrite #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shoji x reader #mezo shoji #mezo x reader #mha shouji #bnha shoji #shouji x reader #anon ask

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karenandhenwillson · 23 hours

Text

Fandom and Ships

In the last couple of weeks, we have seen the number of fics in the Bucktommy tag skyrocket. Which is pretty exciting and amazing and a clear sign of how very excited the fandom is about this development. But of course there is also backlash, mostly from people who suddenly see their preferred ship in danger. (Honestly, when has a canon ship ever stopped fandom from shipping the people involved with other people instead?)

It's expected that some Buddie fans are disappointed. It's also expected that they would lash out (though, I had hoped people could for once remember there are adults and just because everyone is anonymous in online spaces doesn't mean there aren't people sitting behind those keyboards getting hurt by baseless accusation of racism and other things). I should probably not be surprised they are now also using the low engagement we have always seen with Henren as a weapon.

So, let's talk about fandom and ships.

There is no question that there has since season 2 always been the most engagement with Buddie content in this fandom as a whole. People saw the chemistry between Buck and Eddie and ran with it. Compared to that, the canon couples have all barely any content.

But if you look at any fandom at any point in time, there is a clear pattern between canon and fanon ships. There are only very few select fandoms where canon couples ever got a lot of engagement. Of the various fandoms I've been part of, I can only think of one at the top of my head.

I think the reasons are pretty simple.

First of all, the fans get that couple on their screen pretty regularly. They don't have to wish and hope for it, don't have to search for the little details that will validate their headcanon. They don't have to go into fandom spaces to find content for that ship. They can just lean back without any kind of effort and enjoy this ship right on their screen.

And then second, those who do create fan content for those canon ships have to balance a very fine line. What of the canon facts will they dare to contradict to create their own content in fanfiction? (Fanart, videos, gif-sets are probably a little easier there.) Where and when do they deviate from canon? Is there even anything they feel is missing from canon that they want to see in fan work? Do they want to risk contradicting anything that will be established in canon later on? Usually, this conundrum leads mostly to short fics about missing scenes, but nothing truly epic. At least not as long as the there is new source material fairly regularly.

People creating content for purely fanon ships don't need to bother with most of those questions. Because they are deviating from canon anyway. It doesn't matter much then how far they go with that. Everything canon that comes later will just be dismissed with a shrug. Everything canon that happened previously and they don't like can be dismissed just as easily because they are already dismissing parts of it.

Then there is a clear divide between hetero, maleslash and femslash content, no matter if canon or fanon. There are probably people much better suited to get into the gritty little details about that. I'll just share some thoughts I have about any of those ships in this fandom because of my experience as a fanfiction author.

I've always been writing and telling stories. And I started writing fanfiction pretty early on, too, because I found a lot of freedom there in the content and relationships I could explore. Looking back, I've always mostly written maleslash. But I've also always had hetero and femslash pairs in my works. Have had works that focus solely on those pairs.

I know as a teenager I wrote mostly maleslash because I just got a lot of engagement for that. And back then that was a great motivator to publish my fanfiction. It's not my motivation to publish now anymore and it's never been my motivation to write at all. So there are some stories about hetero or femslash couples on my hard drive that I just never published back then.

For 9-1-1, I've been writing many of the ships there are. More than once I focused on characters who don't get much attention otherwise, not even in canon. I have some femslash stories published, most of them Henren. They don't get many klicks. And the comments I get are from friends I actively talk to very often who just read about anything I publish. Or from some very dedicated readers who I seem to have enamored enough with my writing that they'll follow me into pretty much any rabbit hole, I think.

I like Buck and Eddie a lot as characters. I adore Christopher. So, I enjoy creating for them a lot. But I also enjoy creating for the other characters and I'm scratching that itch regularly. But no matter the reason for why I write (because the stories are just in my head and the only way to get them out is to write them down), sharing what I create is more fun when I'm finding engagement over it. So, there are stories that are outlined or even fully written who I'll maybe never publish.

Where were all those Buddie fans in the past who now complain about the missing content for Henren? Where was their support for those who have written Henren all along only to be practically talking into a void? (Right, just as it was never about queer representation for some people, it was never about Henren either. No matter what they say now. They are just searching for the next thing the mob might be latch onto so they can pretend they are right.)

#911 abc #bucktommy #henren

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rainstormcolors · 2 days

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It is a strange feeling... having gone through the "death by a thousand paper cuts" in fandom for trying to enjoy a darker character with abstracted storybeats and whatnot, back when "fandom purity" mindsets were quite lively here, and becoming so worn down it was like pieces of myself were breaking off (I knew I couldn't trust my own feelings on things, and when any time I tried to type out ideas to shape and understand them someone would make passive aggressive posts ripping into those ideas and sometimes me as a person too and it was like I had nothing to hold onto in myself or outside of myself anymore). Now fandom is very "what if two super fucked up people could love each other anyway?" "write that fucked up fanfic idea!" "RB if you support weird dark ass fiction"

And I'm glad for that change, but there's a sort of bitterness settled deep within me a little and I wish I could let it go.

Everyone's been through various crap of course.

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aita-blorbos · 2 days

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AITA for killing my teacher?

So my (M15) teacher has been teaching us, among normal school stuff, various techniques of killing as well as self defense. He used to be an assassin himself, and then got experimented on by the government because they tried to invent a new weapon or something, anyways so because they said he is going to explode and destroy earth (based on a rat that was part of the same experiment exploding and destroying the moon) they were going to kill him themselves otherwise but in the end it was actually me that did it.

I know he did bad things before but I still ended a human life, AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #suicide mention

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nohoperadio · 2 days

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Here's a little breakdown of my personal relationship/non-relationship with various types of aesthetic self-modification (?, I feel like there might be a word or at least a more elegant phrase to denote this category). The point is not to offer my "take" on each thing but to express the different feelings/desires/inhibitions my psyche manifests around them. Some of these will approach awkwardly personal territory, fair warning! You may notice that basically none of them are especially positive; I'm going to leave off from analyzing that pattern for this post.

Tattoos -- I think tattoos as a concept are extremely cool, frequently they're cool in practice also and I like seeing other people's, but I don't think I've ever had even the smallest urge to get one for myself. I'm not totally sure why. The lack of an obvious thing to get is one factor, I feel like "band tattoo" would be the most likely thing for me to have but I don't like the idea of directly lifting a band logo or album art and I really don't like the idea of a lyric tattoo (I offer no justification for these prejudices), so I'd have to get clever with it if I'm doing that and I'm not very clever. More broadly, I predict that my enthusiasm for any artwork I put on my body would fade through overexposure in a matter of weeks if not days--other people describe "barely knowing it's there" after a short time--which on top of making the value of the project seem dubious, I feel like having a permanent image on my skin that I don't actively love would be something I'd feel bad about rather than neutral. Like "man, that thing's on my arm and I don't care about it at all, that sucks" rather than just not noticing it. Maybe I'm wrong about that.

(Tattoos are the one that got me thinking about this whole subject I think, it feels like they're reaching a ubiquity in the culture where it's almost like you're expected to have a reason not to have one rather than a reason to? Maybe that's just a people-I-know thing, anyway it got me thinking about why I don't want one.)

Piercings -- An interesting thing about me and piercings is that it's virtually impossible for me to notice when somebody has them unless I'm like, actively consciously scrutinizing their face (or whatever it is). When I was about ten months into my current job I asked my co-worker who I worked closely with almost every day "hey when did you get that septum ring" and she was like "well way before I met you". That is simply how it is with me and piercings and I make no apology.

If my inability to perceive piercings (perceirvings...) makes me indifferent to the idea of getting one, what makes me actively hostile is the total certainty that I would fiddle with it constantly if I did. I know these hands and their ways and there would simply be no dissuading them, it would be so bad you guys, oh my god. This is probably the hardest no on the list I think, although I haven't finished the post yet so idk maybe I'll think of a worse one.

Makeup -- There's undeniably a lot that's very beautiful in the universe of makeup and there's also the weird dark side, I have dabbled a little in this area and in my heart I feel more positively than not about it, but it's just never going to be a sustainable part of my life because (not unrelated to previous para) I am a perennial and unrepentant face-toucher. I will be itching and rubbing my face-skin and also inflicting other hard-to-characterize punishments upon it (is this "stimming"?) until the day I die and anything that wants to be on my face has just gotta deal. It would probably be better if this was not the case but I don't make the rules, sorry.

Haircuts -- When I was a child I haaaaaated getting my hair cut, like the physical sensation of it? Was so horrible and would usually make me cry and always ruin my day (is this "sensory overload"?), I didn't understand why I was being made to go through this ordeal and basically as soon as I reached an age when I realized my mom couldn't literally force me to do it if I just stubbornly refused hard enough--that age was 13 I think--I stopped. I haven't had a professional haircut since that time although I'm sure I could cope with the sensory aspect at this point, it's just not a habit I ever picked up again (I've had a couple of non-professional ones from my ex who just kind of wanted to try it, in a not particularly ambitious or dramatic fashion). Sometimes I feel like I should, but idk. My hair as it stands is not optimized for making me look hot but I don't think it looks especially horrible either, it's just kind of whatever I think.

Complicating factor here: I've had trichotillomania since I was 15/16, and it's hard to imagine it going away at this point but it's a lot more under control than it used to be, to the point where you can't really tell just from my appearance that something's up now. I say "under control", I have very little conscious control over it and usually no conscious awareness that I'm doing it, but over the years the compulsion seems to have unconsciously settled into a routine where it's just kind of... sculpting my hair into a more-or-less normal silhouette? Like I sort of have a fringe and stuff despite no haircuts. Oh I guess this doesn't make sense unless I clarify that I mostly break rather than pluck the hair nowadays, that's a big part of the gradual unconscious shift that's occurred.

A fun thing about trichotillomania is that it often makes people really uncomfortable when you talk about having it, which sucks for me because it makes me feel lonely, but I guess it sucks for the person feeling uncomfortable too in a smaller way. If you're one of the people who feel uncomfortable around this topic, sorry! Quite genuinely.

Gender transition in general -- I feel like I'm just, just on the boring side of cis-by-default. I think about transitioning shockingly often for someone who's never gonna do it, like it's not searing a hole in my heart or anything like it is for a lot of people but it occupies that "it would be cool to learn an instrument" kind of niche in my thoughts, if that makes sense? (Probably a bit stronger than that analogy makes it sound, it's on my mind frequently but not with a massive sense of urgency attached I guess is what I'm getting at.) I can see myself taking the plunge if the medical technology was like 10% better, or the social technology was like 20% better, or with some medium-sized changes in how my personality was configured, but this life being this life there's no way in heck the juice would be worth the squeeze. If I had one fifth of the executive function required to do all of that lying to doctors and learning how to clothes shop and having awkward conversations with people in my life and all the rest of it, well I can list like ten things I'd rather spend it on first. And I don't!

Glasses -- Love wearing glasses, 10/10 no notes. I knew since I was like 11 that my face should have a pair of glasses on it and I was very smug when the optician agreed (I did not cheat on the eye test in any way for what it's worth). The only times I'm not wearing glasses are sleeping and showering. I don't even carry a case because there's no point because I simply don't ever take them off. This is probably overkill, I think as a kid I was instructed to only put them on when I need to see something in the distance, ignoring that and just wearing them permanently has probably led to my vision weakening to the point where they're now pretty much mandatory in every situation, but I don't give a shit about that because just let me wear my goddamned glasses okay, fuck off. It's actually crazy how much I like wearing glasses, this is the only true thumbs up on the list.

I remembering trying to explain how I like my glasses to a then-close friend of mine many years ago when the subject of laser eye surgery came up in conversation, he said I should get the surgery and then just wear glasses with non-prescription lenses. When I tried to explain why that wouldn't be the same at all he was adamant that I was just being stubborn. That guy was a wonderful person in many ways and I loved him very deeply, but man what a dumbass thing to say.

Facial hair -- There are so many great beards and moustaches in this world, there are few more cheering sights than someone bearing some swish whiskers who's pleased about it, but personally I don't wish to be involved in that business at all.

I never learned how to ride a bike -- Obviously this one doesn't belong on the list, it doesn't fit with any of the other categories, and yet I feel compelled to include it here. And why should I resist that which compels me? This is my post. Yeah, I'm the oldest of four siblings, we were all given bikes at the appropriate kid-on-bike age, the others picked it up but not me. I liked it when I had stabilizers on my bike, then they took them off and I started falling off the bike, and after a very short amount of time I gave up. Like I didn't get mad injuries or anything, it just felt like I wasn't improving at it quickly enough and I didn't feel like keeping it up so I didn't. Early indication of my bad personality.

Fashion in general -- Clothes shopping has always been extremely aversive to me for whatever reason, it's gotten a little better in recent years, I have been able to exist inside clothes shops for long enough to purchase a small thing or two, but eh. Most of my tops are band t-shirts I bought at gigs, most of my bottoms are exactly identical pairs of jeans, there's just not much going on you know? But unlike with most of the items on this list I would really like to be doing this properly. I would like to wear cuter things with prettier colours and designs. This one's an actual goal. But so far I haven't really made progress. The aforementioned shopping sucks thing, plus a fear of being so aesthetically clueless that I just make myself look like a big idiot if I try anything risky, plus the fact that doing things that are not my established routine is tricky in general--these are barriers for me. I guess another barrier is that the things that would be most interesting to try out and therefore most potentially motivating fall into the wrong-gender-clothes category and therefore bring into play some of the barriers from that other category a few ones up. I did actually somehow get myself to dabble in that area some years ago to a modest but positive degree of satisfaction. It'll probably happen again. The patterns and causes that determine whether I can or cannot find motivation to engage in a thing--they are mysterious indeed.

Like horn implants or whatever other crazy miscellany -- I don't want anything in this category and don't have any non-trivial thoughts about it either. Including this section for completeness only.

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Well, there you have it, that's the post. Now you know a bit more about some of my little weirdsies. If you actually made it through the whole thing, a) how interesting and b) why not tell me a little weirdsy of yours in return, whether it pertains to the above list or not? Why not get all antiphonal on my post, that way I'd get to know a thing about you as well, it might be a whole fun kind of deal. You don't have to though, I didn't make this post to try to snare people into letting themselves be known, I just kind of made it to be a post mostly. I make all sorts of kinds of posts you know? And so I thought I'd try one that's like this.

#selfposting #uninteresting #more uninteresting than average #and a bit too long #and yet putting it in a readmore didn't feel right for some reason; sorry all!#have you ever tried listicle oversharing? it's weirdly freeing

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