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h0unds-of-h3ll · 8 months

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Dolly

A collection of head canons that involve you becoming Elvis’s little doll.

Big daddy! Elvis x Playboy bunny! Reader.

Hc.

Warnings: ownership, playboy. Drinking, smoking. Innocence kink, corruption. Sugar baby/daddy exchange. Age gap. Elvis wants you to stay his doll forever. Chokers. Sex.

A/n: Inspired by: https://be-my-ally.tumblr.com/private/719329605910167552/tumblr_2VzVj6g1Kadkago3K

Ps: I love you girlie, please update. On my hands and knees begging for possessive big daddy E.

The beginning

You hadn’t been there for more than a couple weeks before the girls started gossiping.

“You know he’s coming this weekend, right?!”

“I’m going to wear pink, or do you think that’s overdone?”

“What if he kisses me?”

The rumors spread all throughout the weeks about the Elvis Presley visiting the bunny house.

It made your stomach churn and your heart burst out of your chest.

He was your first crush, albeit you were just a little girl compared to him. So who were you to think you had a chance with him?

The more mature women had a far greater chance of getting with him then you did.

You were just a sweet young thing, nothing more nothing less. That’s what men had loved the most about you was the innocence you exuded.

If only they knew what you thought every night about Elvis.

Him ravaging you in your pink little room.

Oooo, how livid your bunny sisters would be.

Hugh didn’t mind all the chaos and drama going throughout his mansion, all the reporters and journalists in the bushes once word got out.

He knew at the end of the day that the more publicity he got that the more people would come to his party than ever recorded.

However he didn’t favor how many of his girlfriends talked about Elvis than him.

Elvis this, Elvis that. Pure and utter Elvis mania.

He started to wish that the weekend wouldnt hurry up and come so that he would have to hear the man's name again.

Worried about you, one of his newest favorite girl becoming corrupted by this hysteria.

Pre game

Saturday night finally rolls around after a hectic week of photo shoots, modeling and being a hostess to dying men.

The girls constantly talked about Elvis, what he’s going to wear, what he smells like, the length of his cock.

Normal girl talk.

They placed bets on how far they can get, sleeping with him would let them win the entire night.

You couldn’t help but blush and bow your head as the older women chatted amongst themselves about if he’s cut or not.

Your closest sister, Holly, who was only a couple years older than you and was the last new girl before you got initiated.

Confiding in her, asking for her guidance and she delivered.

“Just be confident, honey, he’ll love you like I do and all the other girls do. Just be yourself and don’t be afraid of him,”

She runs her hands over your shoulders and smiles at you in the mirror, helping you get ready.

“And I’m sure he won’t bite,”

She leans down to your ear looking up at you through her thick lashes.

“Unless you tell him to.”

The meeting

When the limousine pulled into the yard all hell broke loose.

He was late, the party had already started a couple hours ago. The house breathed from the inside out from how many people mingled in there.

People drank and smoked, fucked in the bathrooms and halls.

You were alone since Hugh appointed high value men to Holly to entertain.

You held a platter of little shot glasses full of champagne around the house.

Adorned in your bunny uniform, the ears bouncing on your head as you walked around the palace.

The music was loud, almost deafening. It was your first party as a bunny and you weren’t sure if you were cut out for this.

Getting groped and cat called by every man you encountered.

You weren’t sure if you were ever going to see Elvis at this point, you heard that he was here but you never even seen him.

After a empty trey and an ass grab, you decided that you needed a break. Putting the trey on the kitchen counter you snaked your way to the back of the house where the grotto was. Holly had introduced you to it when you needed to get away from the house.

It was a little walk away but it wasn’t bad.

The only thing you were concerned about was Hugh knowing you left. Your heels sunk into the ground as you walked, you slipped them off and held them as you continued.

Sniffling softly into the dark sky, your lashes were heavy and the glitter on your cheeks slid down your face as fat alligator tears began to fall.

The dainty lights in the vast pool was your only light that guided you.

Only a couple people were talking around the cave as you entered.

You couldn’t see who it was as you sat by the rocks a bit aways down. Your heels laid next to you, kicking your legs out in front of you, you sat on the top of the little rocks- admiring the water below you.

Your cheeks were flushed and your face was damp.

Big adult feelings became all too overwhelming.

You listened to a man ask another if he wanted another cigar, the other replied with a raspy no. The two conversed behind you on the long velvet seats watching you. Your ears piqued at the familiar sound. It couldn’t be could it? Your nose is too stuffy as you try to breathe.

“Get ‘er for me.”

The couch groans as a man comes over to you, gently touching your shoulder you jump at his touch.

You look up at him and he smiles softly at you, his blue eyes were kind.

You take his hand as he pulls you up.

Maybe it’s because you’re naïve but it’s refreshing to have a man whose nice to you for the first time all night.

As he helps you up, you see the other man sprawled out on the couch. Long legs spread out wide, he’s chewing on the butt of the cigar it’s almost burnt all the way up. He’s puffing smoke out of the side of his lips. His face is covered up by a pink pair of sunglasses.

why he wore sunglasses at night is beyond you. Wearing a big white fur coat. He strokes his thighs, fingers weighed down by heavy shiny gold rings. In that moment you know its him, Elvis Presley.

Jerry pats the small of your back, walking you to him.

“Go talk to him sweetheart.”

You’re a bunny so you follow directions as soon as you’re told. You nod your head, big ears flopping as you do and stand in front of the wolf staring down at you. You stop a few feet in front of him, staring at your feet timidly. Jerry sits at the far end of the couch.

He takes the cigar from his lips and holds it between his two fingers, stretching his arm out on the back of the couch. The smoke billows out of his mouth.

He pats his thigh with his other hand and you can’t will yourself to sit on his thigh. To touch him. Be that close to him.

“Are you shy nungen?”

You can’t will yourself to speak, you almost choke. His voice is so deep, much deeper than what you’ve heard only on television. You nod. He grins.

“Aint nothin’ wrong with that.”

He runs his hand up and down his broad thigh. He licks his lips slowly.

“Y’know lil’ darlin’ I ain't gon’ do nothin’ unless you wan’ me too, jus’ wan’ talk to ya is all.”

You don't know how but the older man, gives you a puppy dog look that you can't turn down. You smile a little.

“I like how when you smile your nose wrinkles, ya ever notice that ‘bout yourself?”

You nod.

“It's one of the reasons why Hugh hired me.”

You glance up at him through his lashes as he takes a drag from his cigar.

“Got a purty lil’ voice too,”

He breathes out the smoke while he talks.

“What d’you think Jerry? Think I should take ‘er home with me?”

It's not the fact he's insinuating that he wants you long-term that makes a warmth pool in your panties.

It's the fact that he's so confident that he’s able to take you home with him.

“Sure, as long as she keeps her lil’ costume.”

Elvis smiles like a Cheshire Cat, so wide to the point his smile lines show.

“So what d’ya say, you wanna be my little Dolly?”

After

That night was the last night you spent in that mansion.

Hugh was wildly infuriated for the first few hours that Elvis introduced the idea of taking you home.

But Elvis wasn't a quitting man and he fought for what he wanted.

(He won the fight after the payment of $7 million, but a win is a win.)

The girls were upset that you out of all of them won the king.

Holly just gave you a hug and a smile, telling you that she knew that you had it in you.

He flew you out to Vegas the next morning, and let you watch him perform.

Bought you thousands of dollars worth of dresses and jewelry in the span of a couple of hours.

Made you wear a collar around your neck with embedded diamonds.

He liked how innocent you were to the point where it was just downright mean.

He ran his hands over your sides and you thought nothing of it, kissed your neck, and called you his Dolly.

The Mafia almost made fun of you from how stupid you were.

Asking if you could kiss him good luck behind the stage.

After the show, he was soaked with sweat and breathing heavily. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and told you to stay up in his room and wait for him in that pretty purty little white cotton bra and panty he got you. With your little bunny ears on.

You did as you were told, sat with your legs under you, hands flat on your thighs on his big bed.

When he does come up its almost brutal how fast he’s taking off your underwear. How quickly he gets worked up and hard he fucks you.

Adrenaline raging through his veins. Even if he's old and his back hurts, he’ll fuck you like a jackrabbit.

You can most definitely tell the girls back at the mansion that he wasn't cut, and the head of his wide cock gets caught on your soaked little hole every time he fucks back into you. Watching the cream of your cunt start to compile on his shaft.

He was worried that your little cunt wouldn't be able to take him. You're just a little girl, if he wanted to, he could really damage you. But why would he want to hurt his little Dolly?

Mascara smeared across your face, your pretty red lipstick was smeared all over his.

He almost bruised your cervix every time he held down your hips to the mattress, angling you in such a specific way that it made you cry. Filling you up as he came into your womb.

“I-its too much!”

“Nah satnin, you're just a sensitive lil’ thang. Can’ help it if you can’ take it.”

This was very experimental and I was just trying something new. Let me know if you guys like this format and are interested in reading more!

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aothotties · 8 months

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Hello! I’m Ari and I’m 1/2 of Aothotties. We’re two black women that like to write about our favorite anime men. This blog is 18+ so that means that if you’re younger than 18 you need to move along please and thank you. Anyways please enjoy the first piece of writing, it’s based off of ‘The Way’ by Kehlani

Warnings: NSFW, Established relationship, Reader is like 24+, a lil bit of overstimulation, Nanami being a bit of a tease.

Word Count: 1K

~~~~~~~~~

You so damn important

Everything you do shows me you know it

To Nanami you’re everything he could ever want and more. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have you in his life.

He loves the cute text messages from you reminding him to drink water, his favorite time of the day is when you call him on your way to work.

“It’s going to be a long shift so I’ll try and call you during my lunch break” you tell your boyfriend, making sure you focus on the road at all times.

“I could always come and have lunch with you in the café.” He offers and your heart melts at the thought.

“I’d take you up on that, but my break isn’t going to be until midnight, and that’s if I’m lucky. The hospital is busy around the holidays” you sigh as you pull into the parking lot and pull into your usual spot.

“That sound means you’re at work doesn’t it? I’ll let you go so you can get yourself together, call me if you need anything. I love you.”

You swear you feel your heart flutter each and every time he says those words.

“I love you too! Oh and I stopped by your house and left you some dinner. I made too much food and I know how you like to skip meals when you get busy. I hope you enjoy it, have a good night!” You end the call and get ready for work.

If you didn’t tell him how much he meant to you, you always made sure you showed it somehow.

He say the king where he come from

Take a young queen just to know one

To Nanami, money was never an issue and he always made sure to let you know that. Anything you wanted was yours, without hesitation. You needed help with student loans? Done. Your car needs gas? Already taken care of by the time you’re on your way home in the morning. He almost tried to buy you a car, but you turned him down.

Nanami would buy you the world if you wanted him too, he’s a hard working man who busted his ass for years to get to where he is today. His journey to becoming the CEO of his company was anything but easy, but it’s truly rewarding if it means he gets to spoil the love of his life.

“Those are nice.” you say to yourself as you scroll on your phone, taking a closer look at the ad that caught your attention.

“And that is?” Your boyfriend asked, handing you the wine glass you asked him to pour you after dinner.

“Oh it’s nothing, just these cute scrubs I saw while scrolling online. They’re the jogger kind and come in different colors.” You showed him a photo of the set and he took the phone from your hand and began to type.

“Baby what are you doing?” you lean over to see what he’s doing on your phone and he gently holds you back with one arm

“Just a second, be patient sweet girl” he says, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hand typing on your phone quickly.

“Here, all done.” He hands you the phone and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing up and walking towards the kitchen.

When you opened your phone up, you were met with a confirmation screen for the scrubs he just bought you.

“They’ll be delivered to your apartment tomorrow afternoon, I got you different colors, since you like to wear solid colors some days and then have those little cartoon characters on them other days.” You watch as he leans against the kitchen counter and you feel like you’re falling in love all over again.

We gon' wake your neighbors

Turn your block club to my fan club

“N-Nanami!” you moan out into the pillow below as he thrust into you from behind.

“Yeah princess? Cat got your tongue?” He grabs your hair in his fist and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his chest

You grip his thigh as he continuously pounds into your cunt like a mad man, his thrust not letting up as he keeps hitting your sweet spot.

“I-I’m so close baby, so f-fucking close.” You whimper loudly, biting your lip at the feeling of him pulling your head back farther onto his shoulder.

He leans his head down and presses his lips against yours, you could tell he was getting close by the way his hips begin to speed up. He wraps one of his large hands around your throat, giving it a light squeeze.

You began bouncing back on his dick quickly to try and reach your climax, Nanami forces your legs open with his free arm and begins rubbing your clit to help you reach your high.

You scream out loud as your cunt tightens around his dick and you reach your climax. You back continues to arch and you whine from the overstimulation of him continuing his thrust.

“N-Nanami s’too much. I-I can’t!” You whine loudly as he continues to bounce you up and down on his dick quickly.

“You can take it princess, go ahead and give me one more. I know you can baby.” He whispers in your ear, he grabs your jaw and turns your face up to look at him while he fucks into you.

You squeeze your eyes shut from the pleasure and he harshly presses his lips against yours giving you a sloppy kiss, he groans and bites your lip as he emptied himself inside of you.

He sighs against your lips before he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours, slowly trying to regain control of his breathing after the activities that just took place.

“Thank you for the scrubs” You say weakly as you begin to fall asleep in his arms, he smiles at how tired you instantly become and plants a kiss to your forehead.

“Anything for you sweet girl.”

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader

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ehc-on-ao3 · 4 months

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Wednesday's Stalker Secret Admirer

(The impetus for this rather silly idea: Wednesday is listed as a horror comedy series. I recall something about the overall plan for season 2 of Wednesday to ramp up the horror aspect. But what if it went the other route and ramped up the comedy instead?)

Wednesday Addams.

Dark. Brooding. Stoic.

Utterly mesmerizing.

Socially inept.

Terrifyingly gorgeous.

The source of many people's pain and suffering.

Hero of Nevermore.

But most importantly?

Target.

The stalker had spent months studying the gothic shadow in twin pigtails, knew her moves, her thoughts, her patterns. They started this cat-and-mouse game at least a dozen steps ahead of the amateur detective, prepared to taunt, mock, threaten, then finally kill her in the most humiliating way possible. It was destined to be their magnum opus! If it wasn't for one small, tiny detail:

Wednesday Addams simply didn't get it.

What the stalker did not (could not in a million years) anticipate was that Wednesday would utterly misinterpret every single text, written letter, and threatening package delivered to her door as the attempts of a secret admirer to win her love rather than a bloodthirsty stalker hellbent on rendering her dead and buried.

The animated .gif of her getting skewered by a butcher knife netted the response of, "Clearly you are an individual of refined taste. I approve, though with reservation."

Huh? Never mind, try again, this time via a physical letter written in blood delivered to her door. The response via text?

"I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the letter, though I believe my heart has been snared by another. My advice: in the future, try vellum, as it will not allow the blood to seep through to the envelope and spoil the surprise."

And the response to the decapitated cat speared into her front lawn?

"Your attempts at courtship, though admirable, are no longer desired, for I am now in a committed relationship. I shall, however, remember the gifts fondly as it was a first for me. May you find happiness in another soon enough."

Okay, no more screwing around. Time to break out the big guns.

The stalker, of course, followed Wednesday back to Nevermore, quickly discovering the identity her paramour: one Enid Sinclair. Recently-turned werewolf, bright where Wednesday was dark, smiling when the other frowned. But most critically, the chink in Wednesday's armor. What better way to extract a bloody revenge on the girl than by targeting her loved one? A few discrete photos, a overly-threatening message sent via text, and bam! A thoroughly shaken Wednesday ripe for the picking!

Right?

Wrong.

"While I am not unfamiliar with the idea of courting more than one paramour at a time, I am uncertain if Enid is willing to share. I shall bring it up with her in the near-future and respond posthaste. However, I would not hold out much hope as werewolves tend to be territorial. It is, after all, a stereotype for a reason."

While the stalker is busy screaming and violently smashing anything breakable in their vicinity (how did she not get it?!), Wednesday is true to her word and reveals the various messages to Enid. In an attempt to be more open and honest, she had already advised Enid of the existence of her secret admirer during their break (which had immediately prompted Enid to finally get off her tail and ask Wednesday to be her girlfriend), but this would be the first time she actually shared the images with her girlfriend.

A girlfriend who was as territorial as Wednesday anticipated. Enid was adamant that Wednesday cease contact with her admirer, though Wednesday didn't understand the vehemence behind the request. Her admirer was dangerous? Sick? The messages and gifts the acts of a madman? Wednesday nearly rolled her eyes. Untrue. This was simply someone who understood the intricacies of an Addams courtship. Still, while the admirer had intrigued her, Wednesday only had eyes for Enid. She would abide by her request and cease all contact. After one last message, of course.

"As I anticipated, Enid is not open to a poly relationship. She has also understandably requested I cease all contact with you and I shall abide by her request. Consider this my final message."

Wednesday then proceeded to "block" the sender on her phone. While she didn't understand jealousy herself, she knew it had the potential of poisoning a relationship as quickly as hemlock (to a normie, anyway), and would take whatever steps Enid requested in order to be a proper significant other.

Cue the stalker sending even more messages to Wednesday's phone via multiple burner accounts.

Cue Wednesday becoming exasperated at the now-unwanted amorous attention from her secret admirer, then handing Enid her phone to "finally block them for good."

Cue Enid seeking the assistance of the Nightshades to locate this stalker and make good on her promise to Wednesday to "finally block them for good."

Cue a whole lot of violence and screaming.

Cue a bloody Enid kissing the oblivious but always insanely attractive Wednesday who all but melts at the attention. While she adores her time with Enid, she can't help the shiver of excitement at Enid finally getting into the Addams way of courtship, blood and all.

#Wednesday #writing prompt #wenclair #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #mywork #silly idea

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mabelstone · 3 months

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Bad Habits

matt stone x reader

part four of provocateur <3

part three, masterlist

word count: 3.5k

CW: oral sex, not so awesome sex, a bit more sex, mentions of pregnancy tests, and not very friendly conversations lol

(I've changed to first person writing this - it just flows so much more naturally. I hope that's okay, I'm in the habit now...)

***

It's been four months since my application was finalised. Surprise! I got the promotion. I got a lovely, big office with floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the gloomy but gorgeous heart of Manhattan. I decorated the place quite nicely, a photo frame of my dog on my desk - made from the finest mahogany, a low maintenance fern in the corner and two leather seats for important people to park their backsides. (I truthfully don't think the seats will get much use, but they just fill the space so well, I couldn't resist).

Much has happened in these past four months. For starters, Matt and I rendezvous nearly every second day. Please don't get me wrong, I still hate his guts. But there's something so intoxicating about the way his words cut like a knife but then his body heals the damage tenfold. When I'm under him, I am a living, breathing surge of electricity that no force in this realm could tame. But then that feeling kicks in after when I remember just who I was letting live between my thighs for short periods of time. The most repugnant, self-assured bastard I've ever met. It makes it easy to leave, I must admit. But some invisible pulley mechanism keeps reeling me back in time after time.

That was until last week.

Well actually, last week was a bust.

I went over with the intentions of cutting the cord until I'd seen his messy hair - presumably he'd just woken up. He told me I looked beautiful, then bent me over the sofa and laid into me so good, I nearly said I loved him.

Then the next day fell on it's face too.

I'll set the scene; down on my knees with my hands on his, taking him down my throat inch by inch while he delivered an influx of praise and degradation.

"You can take more than that," as he grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"You must've been very popular in school," he joked, followed by a quick, and almost pained sounding, "no, no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," when I started to pull off.

And the occasional, "God, you're perfect," that seemed to slip out on its own without his realisation.

By the end of it, my cheeks were soaked with tears and he pulled me off by my hair, gasping with spit dripping from my chin like a big slobbery dog.

Okay. So last night I finally did it.

My naked body atop his cold kitchen counter, back arched like a cat as his tongue dove in and out of me. I reached a shaky hand back to grab a fistful of his hair, my stomach doing acrobatics at the noises he was making. Of course, within small minutes, I was a trembling mess, lost in overstimulation, hurtling through my third orgasm of the night where I was nearly blind.

“That’s enough,” I pleaded with him, tears spilling down my cheeks. I locked my legs together best I could while trembling like a hypothermic slowly freezing to death. I batted him away, sitting back on my heels, heaving and panting as I tried to regulate my heart and lungs to a comfortable rate. His long arms snaked around my body, warm lips kissing up my spine before he pulled my back flush against his chest.

"Mmm, God, I could do that forever," he mumbled against my shoulder, a drop of his sweat falling from a curl and splashing down my bare chest.

"We can't," I spoke soft, a gentle protest. "This isn't working." My heart dropped at my own words, I could almost hear his doing the same.

"What do you mean?" He asked a bit defensively, pulling away from me. "What part of amazing casual sex isn't cutting it for you?" He was obviously trying to omit an air of humour, though I could tell he was in disbelief.

"Yeah, it is amazing, but," I continued to talk as I slid off the counter, heading to his bedroom to find my clothes. "I think it's, like, fucking me up psychologically." I slipped on one of his t-shirts - a bad habit that I'd be entertaining for the last time - that fit me like a knee length dress.

"You fallin' in love with me?" He grinned at me across the room, slipping on a fresh pair of boxers.

"Funny," I dead panned, shimmying my way into my far too tight panties. "I had to take another pregnancy test."

"You're not pregnant, right?" Suddenly all the blood drained from his face, his demeanour shifting from indignant to serious in a fraction of a second.

"No," I laughed, his stress slipping away just as fast. "I just think we're too old to be fooling around like teenagers. Don't you wanna find a nice girl and settle down?" I shoved his shoulder playfully to soften the blow, but he wasn't having it.

He squinted his eyes, scanning my face as if he were a computer analysing me.

"You met someone, didn't you?" He concluded pointedly, ticking his jaw as he had so many times.

When I didn't reply, he pushed further. "Is he any good?"

"I'm not sleeping with him," I scoffed, walking into his ensuite to pee while he stood at the door, arms folded. Oh, yeah. We've gotten very comfortable.

"I'm actually shocked." He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Do you want to be in a committed relationship with me, Matthew?"

"I- uh-" He stammered, and I scoffed from my spot on the toilet.

"Exactly." I rolled my eyes, washing my hands and glancing up at him through the mirror. There's no way he's that fucking selfish. Obviously I wasn't actually asking him to be my boyfriend, but it still stung a bit to be honest.

"Oh, come on. We don't exactly have the foundation to be this perfect, healthy couple you dream of," he countered, staying where he was while I pushed past him. "We've got an awesome thing going, Jumpy. Let's not make any rash decisions."

"No... I've thought it over," I reassured him, heading for the front door. "You've said it yourself. No strings attached. Let's keep it casual, dude," I mocked him, making air quotes with my fingers.

"Don't come crawling back when he can't make you finish," he took me by surprise, slinking in front of me and opening the door.

"At least he's worth more than just a fuck," I countered, though I instantly regretted what I said. "See you at work, Matty." I reached up on my toes and pecked his cheek while he stared on in disbelief.

So, yes. I started online dating. And don't call me an asshole, because while I may have been the only one Matt was fucking, his phone was always blowing up with random women begging for him to go out with them. I went on a few dates, with most of the guys either so self obsessed it made me wonder if they'd rather being jacking off in front of a mirror, or so business driven that it felt like they were trying to sell themselves to me. Either way, it was all a big failure until I met Trey. He was funny and handsome and so charming. I could spend hours listening to him babble and never get bored. We didn't seem to have much in common besides our sense of humour, but he seemed genuinely interested in me beyond what was beneath my clothes.

He was quite a successful business man, telling me about all the overseas travel he does and - I zoned out the rest. He was really gorgeous. Pale blue eyes, short brown hair. I think he was only like, 10 years older than me. We went on quite a few dates before we finally stumbled into his penthouse, limbs entangled on his bed like pretzels. I hadn't even thought about Matt the whole time. Fuck, I'm thinking about Matt. Whatever, he probably has some bitch in his bed right now. He'd been giving me the cold shoulder at work and it was actually starting to hurt my feelings. Fuck it.

"Wanna have sex?" I murmured against Trey's lips. I needed a good distraction fast.

"What a stupid question," he smiled, flipping me onto my back. He reached over me to a little dresser beside his bed, pulling out a singular condom, ripping the packet with his teeth before placing it back on the dresser.

He continued to kiss me, his tongue roaming the entire expanse of my mouth, his hands gently carding through my hair. This is way better than a cheap fuck. His lips connected with my throat, leaving hot kisses across my skin, trailing down to my collarbones, goosebumps covering my skin. My hands roamed his neck and shoulders, the smell of his cologne only turning me on more. He gently unbuttoned my blouse, revealing my lack of bra.

"You're so beautiful," he confessed, taking one of my breasts into his mouth. I autonomously arched my back, my hands rubbing up his sides in a silent plea for him to take his shirt off. He got the memo immediately, pulling it over his head before pushing my skirt up, revealing the prettiest panties I owned. He wasted no time locking lips with me again, impatiently pulling his pants off and rolling on the condom effortlessly, not pulling away from me once. “Ready?” He pulled away briefly to look in my eyes. I nodded with my lip between my teeth, preparing for the pain to come after he slipped my panties to the side.

He slid himself in slowly. He definitely had length. But there wasn’t that usual pain I’d grown accustomed to over the past couple months. I rolled my hips, encouraging him to pick up the pace. He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder, hitting my cervix in one precise thrust.

“Trey,” I moaned, digging my nails into his shoulder. Okay, he was definitely long, surprisingly. He continued to pile into me, a bit more gentle than I liked it, but he was getting the job done nonetheless. I grabbed his free hand palmed it into my breast, trying my best to bounce my hips against him in the difficult position I was pinned in.

“You feel amazing,” he groaned with his forehead against mine, our sharp breaths huffing against one another. His strokes were deep, almost too deep. Ow, fuck. I got a cramp in lower abdomen, presumably from the blunt force trauma to my cervix. I tried to enjoy the next few minutes, but with all the work stress, and thoughts of Matt, and that horrid pain in my stomach that seemed to be getting sharper, I had a brilliantly, terrible idea.

I swear, I have never had to do this before. But he’s so nice, and I actually really like him! I wouldn't want to crush his self esteem.

“Oh!” I cried out, throwing my head back in mock pleasure. “Yes! Right there! I’m gonna-“

Please, never ever ever let Trey find out what I’m about to do.

I arched my back so far back, I swear I could’ve slipped a disc. Our bare chests touching, I flexed my walls to mock the contractions of an orgasm, contorting my face and moaning his name like an award winning actress.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, spilling into the condom with three final (painfully deep) thrusts. Once he composed himself, he peeled his sweaty body from mine, panting like a dog. I did the same, though I’d be lying if I said it was half genuine. Finally when I could stretch my body out, the cramp started to subside.

“Wow,” he breathed from beside me, pulling the condom off and tying it before throwing it into the bin beside his bed. “You’re just… something else.”

With lack of constructive things to say floating through my brain, I turned onto my elbows and kissed him. Good save.

“I need to use your bathroom,” I smiled against his lips, slipping off the edge of his bed and chucking on the dress shirt he wore to our date tonight. Bad habit. “Oh, shit, sorry, can I wear this just for a moment?”

“Of course, it looks cute,” he grinned at me, motioning to his bathroom with his head. “Down the end of the hall to the left.”

His place was breathtaking. The highest level of the building, the walls lined with tasteful art. In his bathroom was a signed photo of him and Shaquille O’Neal. Interesting. I could actually see the New York Times’ building from his bathroom window and couldn’t help but wonder what Matt was doing right now. Or, who he was doing. I’d never admit it to anyone, but I wished I was with him more than anything right now.

Despite this, I splashed my face with water and headed back to Trey’s bed where… he was dozing off. Typical. As quietly as humanly possible, I slipped my clothes from earlier on and grabbed my things. On my way out the door, one of my heels slipped from my grasp and clattered loudly against the hardwood floors. I winced and glanced over at Trey, who, thankfully, was dead asleep.

I looked at my notifications to see ‘one deleted message from Matt Stone’ and nothing else. I sighed and shot Trey a text,

little family emergency, sorry to run out on you

you looked very relaxed. i had a wonderful night, i’d love to catch up again xxx thank you for tonight

Then I hailed a cab, holding my heels in one hand and my handbag in the other, hair a mess, looking like a corner girl who’d had a reasonable working night. Hah. If Matt saw me right now, he’d say exactly that.

***

Work was slow that week, many late nights and early mornings that seemed to roll on one continuous loop. I was up to my elbows in editorials and research projects that I often didn’t even have time to go down for lunch. I even had to ask a friend of mine to watch my dog.

“It’ll all be worth it, this is your dream!” She reassured me, starting to close her wire door in my face. “Don’t stress about the dog, he can stay here as long as you need. Isn’t that right, baby? Yes it is! Say bye to mommy!” She cooed at him, and I couldn’t help but fear that by the time I came back to collect him, she would’ve tossed him into her car and travelled across the country with him. I was already on the verge of being late, so I had to slip that thought to the back of my mind until further notice.

The new intern, Annie, walked in with big, bouncy blonde waves and a ginormous smile that told of her very little time here so far. “Good morning!” She beamed, and I must say, having such a charismatic, fresh face around the office gave me a little boost of energy.

“Good morning,” I smiled back. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, um- Mr. Stone offered to buy you a coffee this morning. Something about an anniversary?” Her faced flushed even just saying those words.

“What anniversary?” I snorted, shaking my head.

“Sorry to be rude but, aren’t you together?” She tilted her head like a confused puppy, and seemed quite pleased when I shook my head at her. “O-oh! Okay…”

“May I please have an iced latte with 3 shots?” I spoke without taking my eyes off my computer, an arrogant habit I’d unfortunately picked up. She nodded fast and rushed out of the room. I took this chance to have a break from my computer (not even an hour in).

“Happy anniversary,” I let myself into his office, sitting in that dreadful velvet chair.

“I’dunno what you’re on about,” he sighed, eyes glued to his desktop.

“Well, thanks for the coffee, anyway.”

“Again, no clue what you’re talking about,” he sighed emphatically again, resting his fingers on his temples. “Don’t you have a fuck tonne of work to do?”

“You are such an asshole!” I laughed exasperatedly, cursing myself for even trying to interact with him.

“How was your… date?” He popped the ‘t’ on date as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Wonderful,” I deadpanned, heading for the door. Maybe it was a good thing that I put a stop to our unprofessional fuck-sessions.

“So, he any good?” He looked up at this point, intrigued.

“God, yes,” I lied through my teeth, strutting back into my own office.

The day rolled on slowly as anticipated, but on the bright side, I finished all the really important stuff. Even though it was approaching 8pm now. I took off my headphones and shut down my desktop when I heard something that made my stomach drop.

Rhythmic pounding of something from the next door office. I opened my door and crept into the hallway to make sure my ears weren't deceiving me. No fucking way.

A very vocal woman crying out, "yes, Matt!"

"Keep you voice down," he scolded, followed by her now muffled sounds of pleasure. Truthfully, it made me queasy, but also so angry that I could bust down his door and slap the shit out of him. I hung around his doorway in shock, feeling like I was frozen in place. Was I really jealous when this is what I wanted? He didn't owe me anything. After all, we were just screwing.

"Oh, Y/N," I heard a soft whimper for him and my heart dropped, eyes widening so far, I'm surprised they didn't fall out of my head. I had to bring a hand to my mouth to stop myself from laughing.

"What?" She panted, sounding just as shocked, if not, a little offended.

"Huh? Nothing, just- just keep going," he sighed frustratedly, but the pounding never started again.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, and I had a rough idea where this was going. I quickly ran back to my office, sitting behind my desk as if I'd been there the whole time, though my racing heart said otherwise. As if on cue, his office door opened with such force that it slammed against the door frame and shook the wall between us. Then I saw those elegant blonde waves bouncing as she practically ran for the elevator.

Annie?

Don't laugh, don't laugh.

But I couldn't help myself, bursting out into near maniacal hysteria, trying to muffle my amusement with both of my hands - how I imagine he tried to shut her up before he ruined it all. But it was no use, he heard and sheepishly walked to my door, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Real professional," I blurted, trying to calm myself down so I wouldn't laugh in his face. No, I was more respectful than that. I placed my hands in my lap a blew out a long breath I seemed to be holding, forcing back giggles.

"Seriously, fuck you," he growled, walking closer and closer to my desk, a pointed, accusing finger coming toward my face. "You are the biggest slut I know, so I don't know how you can judge."

"I'm the biggest slut?" I scoffed incredulously, standing before him where his heaving chest was only inches from mine. Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore. "You'd fuck anything with two legs and a heartbeat so long as it looked in your direction! Fuck you."

"Here you go," he laughed in my face, looking down at me like a kid. "I hear you making personal calls. 'Oh, Trey, I'd love to go to Dubai with you! Even though we just met and I only want your money.'" He mocked me in an irritating, high pitched voice, his face red with anger.

"Get the fuck out of my face," I snapped, shoving him back by his chest. "You're insane! Eavesdropping on my private conversations?"

"I'm not eavesdropping, I couldn't care less," he seethed, his tone condescending as he slowly lost his grip. "These walls are very thin, you know."

"I know," I laughed, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Oh, Y/N," I mocked him this time, on my way out the door when he grabbed my wrist.

"Don't tell a soul, or I will ruin you." He threatened, eyes dark and his tone serious.

"Let go of me, Matt," I groaned, dramatically ripping my arm from his grip. "I'm going to Dubai, you know that," I feigned a smile, surprised with the pang of upset I felt when his face dropped.

"You're actually going with this dude? You think he gives a shit about you?" He had that stupid judgemental look on his face, and that was enough to stop me feeling bad for him.

"I thought you couldn't care less?" I turned from him, heading for the elevator. "It's not me you have to worry about. Interns will say anything to get a permanent position."

I didn't have to look back at him to know what his expression would be, and the slam of his office door confirmed that for me.

they are so toxic... i can't decide what ending i want to give them. maybe only 1 or 2 chapters left <3

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #matt stone smut #trey parker #trey parker x reader #trey parker smut

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ghostbc-headcanons · 2 years

Note

Can you write some fluffy Headcanons about Swiss and Dew and all the other ghouls? Please?

of course i can!! the ghouls give me life

FLUFFY GHOUL HEADCANONS

Swiss

biggest prankster in the whole clergy. will doodle on your face in sharpie if he finds you passed out. it's just the way life goes

never makes a serious face in photos. will pull wild grins and stick tongues out and give people bunny ears

probably the most physically affectionate out of all the ghouls!! hugs, kisses, cuddles - that's his jam dude

Dewdrop

you know when dogs get comfortable and they do that 'hmpf' sigh thing? he does that.

regularly makes smores with his fire magic. if you ask him to make you one he'll roll his eyes and say 'don't say i never did nothing for you'

sunbathes all the time like a cat. if he's missing from the group, chances are he wandered off to find a patch of sunlight in front of a window

Aether

is a really proficient cook! making meals is like his love language, he loves it when the ghouls like his cooking

GIVES THE TIGHTEST HUGS EVER. will squeeze the life out of you seriously but like... it's aether so it's ok

one time he gave rain a piggyback ride and rain has said it was the most amazing experience of his life, so make of that what you will

Rain

sings in the shower, but only in the shower. would die if someone asked him to sing in front of them

parallel play is his favorite way to spend time with people. just being in proximity with someone without having to talk much is heaven to him!

he obviously loves the rain, but he loves snow even more. the first time he experienced snow he was in it for 2 hours, simply laying in it and watching the snow fall down from the sky.

Mountain

he snores like crazy LMAO the ghouls have tried everything to make it stop but nothing has helped so they just live with it

loves holidays!! even though christmas is a christian-based holiday, it is by far his favorite. wears all the ugly sweaters

bites to show affection. he doesn't bite THAT hard or anything he's a gentle giant okay he just thinks it's the best way to say 'hey. i like you'

Cumulus

just. a literal ball of fucking sunshine??? you can't NOT be happy around her cause she's just so happy all the time!!

always holding hands with cirrus. those two are literally attached at the hip.

if you're upset or stressed out, she'll sing to you and run her hands through your hair. she does this for all the ghouls too, of course.

Cirrus

has the most deadpan sense of humor, but she always giggles like crazy after delivering something completely absurd

gives everyone forehead kisses before a show for 'good luck', the ghouls (+ copia) have gotten used to it at this point

she heard about how humans wish on practically everything, so she's started wishing on stuff too. eyelashes, dandelions, even when blowing out ritual candles she makes a wish!

#ghoul headcanons #ghost bc headcanons #ghost headcanons #headcanons #ghost bc #ghost #ghost band #ghost the band #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul

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worldheadcanons · 1 year

Text

☆ miscellaneous stalker au canada headcanons!

starring. . . gender neutral reader and canada. warning for stalking (in general), general violence/murder mentioned, + nsfw in the last four headcanons.

author notes; live laugh love this little freak. he’s literally wild about reader and i ADORE that about him. he’s the type of guy to go “me and my partner don’t argue they bash my head in with a rock and i walk it off like a man.” he’s crazy.

matthew williams!

— matthew spends about an hour every day scrolling on his favorite shopping sites in search of things he thinks you’d like. he’s a smart shopper, if nothing else. he seems to know every secret coupon in the world. he really enjoys buying you cute clothing and trinkets he finds online. plushes, slippers, new satin pajama sets, sexy underwear, cat themed mugs, kitchen supplies to replace your old ones— god, not to mention the glorious food he delivers! it’s never more food than you need. it’s just enough so that you can eat your fill and still have a bit extra for later. it’s like having a sugar daddy, honestly. you occasionally feel bad for him and try to convince him to stop spending so much money on you, but williams manages to dismisse your concerns with ease. he lives and loves to serve you, he says.

— if you identify with one of the binary genders then he’ll eventually start calling you a ‘good girl’ or ‘good boy’ over the phone. it’s not something he’s stubborn about, so if you ask him to stop he will. it’s nothing really sexual as he mostly uses the pet name to tease you, enjoying the way you roll your eyes or huff at his words. matthew never dishes out something he can’t take, so you deciding to mirror him isn’t an issue. in fact, he takes pleasure in it, grinning to himself in the bushes of your front yard. you’ll tell him to be a ‘good boy’ and turn himself in to the cops and he’ll simply laugh into the phone. “y/n,” he’d coo, “i can’t turn myself in. you know you’d miss your good boy too much if i went to jail.”

— he’ll occasionally show up at your place of work depending on whether or not your job deals with the public. if you’re something like a fast food worker or a cashier, then you’ll definitely be seeing him from time to time. he’s clever enough to not let you hear his voice off the phone. he’ll either avoid speaking entirely or put on a completely different voice to the best of his ability. williams likely won’t even do anything related to your work, mostly sitting or standing around and pretending to be busy on his phone or, if he’s in a store, pretending to browse for something. he watches you, occasionally taking pictures when he can. when he gets home, matthew prints them out, adding them to a physical scrapbook of semi-blurry photos taken of you. pictures from your front yard.. from your back door.. in the store.. in the parking lot.. in your own bedroom…

— one day he actually sends you a text. when you block the first number, williams texts you again through a different one. the text message comes after he sees you going out the house with another person. he takes offense to the mere sight of you with someone else and it’s here where he starts to show his more violent side. it's a jarring wake up call for you. you couldn’t help but begin to think of him as someone different.. someone romantic instead of creepy. someone almost cute instead of murderous. how silly of you. you slid your phone into your pocket but his message continued to echoe softly in the back of your mind. ‘have fun tonight. if i catch their hands anywhere near you, they'll end up in your mailbox by morning ❤️’

— he stalks you on any and every open social media account you have. instagram, twitter (you tweet the strangest things, matthew loves giggling at your musings), tiktok, tumblr, facebook— hell, he’d look through myspace if he had to. whenever he’s bored at work he starts browsing through everything he can. he just wants to feel connected to you. it’s not enough to have a small picture of you taped to the inside of his briefcase. besides, williams wants to stay updated on your life and scrolling through your social media definitely helps with that.

— on the more sexual side of things, god does he love to masturbate. the mere sound of your voice is enough to make him hump into a pillow like a dog, whining and groaning softly to himself while still trying to seem present on the phone. not to mention the countless blurry pictures of you that are now covered in his cum. he doesn’t want to waste his clear shots of you, matthew would much rather keep those clean. he just wishes he could get his hands on you and show you how much of a degenerate you’ve made him into. it’s a real shame you don’t get to hear the way he groans your name as he cums all over the place. it’s always a messy finish with him, even though he finds the clean up process to be embarrassing. williams never learns his lesson.

— just let him into your house, just once, and he can make your dreams come true. he wouldn’t mind being dominant or submissive, most of the time he just wants to see you get off. he’s the type to kiss the ground you walk on and then fuck you like an animal all in the same night. matthew would be rough with you but still clearly worship you and your body. williams adores giving and receiving praise during sex. he dreams of the day you’ll tell him he’s doing a good job, really, it would mean everything to him to hear that he’s pleasing you. in return, he’d coo into your ear that you’re the only one in the world for him. the only one he’d ever want or need. every inch of your skin would be covered in gentle kisses after he fucks you. he’s a god at aftercare and would make sure you feel like royalty before even thinking of settling into bed beside you.

— he really wants to see you covered in his cum one day soon. positioning doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to see you completely wrecked. williams wants to see your legs shake and your tight little hole quiver. he wants to see you beg for more even though you’re so fucked out already. god, the things you do to him. you’ve made him into such a sick man.

— matthew enjoys giving and receiving oral sex. he’s great at it and even if you’re not the best he would help you get better. he’d have you cum into his mouth over and over until you’re twitching with ecstasy and he’d never even lift a finger. all williams needs is his mouth. his eyes would look up at you with a mischievous glimmer, almost as if he was wordlessly teasing you for enjoying this so much.

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia x you #hetalia headcanons #canada x reader #matthew x reader #matthew williams #hws canada #stalker au #stalker au hetalia

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slonekaru · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before but, what are your top 5 BL’s that you watched this year?

Oh, good question! I've watched so many BL's this year :) How do I choose 5!?!?!?

In no particular order because I can't decide:

Love in the Air

I adore Love in the Air, I liked it right from seeing the trailers and it never let me down. Both couples are amazing for various reasons. The PrapaiSky story was well done and I'm a little in love with Peat. But I have to say I think Payu and Rain are one of my favourite couples from this year and have quickly solidified their place in the favourite couples ever category. I loved their relationship and the D/s elements, how it progressed, how they showed a functioning healthy D/s relationship.

Plus the chemistry between Boss and Noeul is outstanding. Top Tier. I could watch them kiss for hours. I WILL CRY IF THEY DON'T DO A NEW SERIES TOGETHER!!!!

Kinnporsche

What can I say about Kinnporsche. One of the best series I have seen, nevermind it being a BL! I came into KP just before it was released so didn't have all the waiting some people did! Phenomenal casting, I don't think there was a bad choice there. Production values are off the charts. Great how they managed to balance the Mafia story with the comedy elements. I am torn about wanting a second season. I mean I'd love to see more and yet live in fear of them not achieving the same level. Sometimes it's best to let it be! Also another entry with a favourite couple of VegasPete, complicated but fantastic relationship. BibleBuild are amazing together and another pairing I hope to see again.

Semantic Error

And we have a Korean entry. This is one of my suggestions to anyone just getting into BL. It made me laugh, the chemistry between Park Seoham and Park Jaechan is amazing. I actually had no idea who they were or that they were in K-pop bands before watching this.

I particularly liked Park Jaechan's portrayal of SangWoo. I read it as SangWood being Neurodivergent and I personally think it's brilliant, especially with the way Park Seoham's JaeYoung reacts to SangWoo. Sometimes frustrated but most of the time accepting and learning to adapt to his thought process.

Old Fashion Cupcake

For our Japanese entry, we have Old Fashion Cupcake. This one hit differently. I've been dying for some BL with older characters and they delivered. What more could you want than a 29-year-old chasing and wooing a 39-year-old who doesn't realise it and also discovers his queerness later in life! It's beautifully done and nice to see people still reaching for something and achieving it when they are full-grown adults! Because you know that's life.

Choco Milk Shake

They sucked us in with the kinky D/s promo photo's and I fell for it! But this has been such an amazing series. Originally slated for a 10-episode run they changed the airing of the last 3 episodes and have snuck in an extra episode! Episode 11 is due to air on the 20th Dec. Episode 10 is 100% the original ending but I think they realised how popular it was and maybe wanted to squeeze out another episode. Plus I know how people reacted to the Kissable Lips ending, maybe Strongberry doesn't want the same outcome!

The casting choices were outstanding. Lee JaeBin is completely believable as a puppy in human form and Kim SeongHyuk as a cat in human form is spot on. Seriously they nailed the mannerisms of a dog and cat.

Interesting how such a comedic show with a comedic premise also somehow manages to deal with loss, grief, and loneliness.

Some honorable mentions: The Miricle of Teddy Bear, Cutie Pie, Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Soul, Big Dragon, The Eclipse, Plus and Minus, Kei X Yaku, Secret Crush on You

And because they are not finished yet I'll reserve the right to include Between Us, and 609 Bedtime Story at a later date! :)

#slone answers #thai bl #k-bl #love in the air #payurain #bossnoeul #kinnporsche #vegaspete #biblebuild #semantic error #jaeyoung x sangwoo #park seoham #park jaechan #old fashion cupcake #togawa x nozue #choco milk shake

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i-luv-carl-grimes · 1 year

Text

☾꙳all the things I hate about you☀︎꙳ pt.4

꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳

Chandler Riggs x Fem!reader

Warning: swearing

꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳

Sorry I did post yesterday I was really busy with an art project

꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳

"Call me as soon as you can, and don't go out at night a-" "f/n I'll be fine" I said cutting her off as tears dressed her cheek. "Okay, I love you y/n" she said before bringing me into another bone crushing hug. "I love you too" I said trying my best to hold back the dam of tears building up. "Flight A-2 is ready to be boarded passengers please head to gate 3" a loud speaker announced, me and F/n broke our hug a tear then slipped its way out of my eye and on to my cheek. "Travel safe" she said holding my hands and I nodded unable to say anything or the dam in my eyes would break.

We said our last goodbyes and turned around going separate ways one step forward and my dam broke tears streaming down my face covering my cheeks, we boarded the plan I sat down and took a deep breath, that was cut short from my phone vibrating. To my surprise it was Chandler

@/chandlerriggs

Not gonna answer huh?

Oh shit, he noticed

@/u/n

I'm so sorry I must have forgotten

@/chandlerriggs

But did you really?

He asked and once again I was left sitting there confused on how or what I was gonna respond with. Was he trying to be confusing?

@chandlerriggs

Leave me on delivered again?

@u/n

I really don't mean to I just boarded my plan so I'm getting settled In

I lied

@/chandlerriggs

Okay?

Huh?

Was I annoying him? Did he not believe me? Did I really just make the coolest person even dislike me? What if we dont get along and they kick me off, what if he hates me, I should leave him alone I doubt he wants to talk to me anyway.

Chandler's pov

I read over her personality chart over and over again. 'She was very shy but a great actor, very soft spoken but not when in character as well as she stayed seemingly very calm throughout the auditions even when the others were arguing and insulting her'

I didn't like shy people, well I don't like A shy person. She used to be on the show that was until her character died but, she was shy and quite but the more I talked to her the more I realized she was awful, she was self obsessed and thought she was better then everyone else as well as say rude things and insult people on set mainly me. "Why didn't anyone show me this sooner" I said frustrated. "Chandler she's a completely different person who knows maybe shes nice" Norman said then got up and walked away. "If she was she wouldn't leave me on delivered" I mumbled back opening our Instagram dms to see that once again I had been left unanswered. I swiped to look at her profile and seen she only had one photo of her face posted it was a photo of her looking up at stars the moon light fitting her face beautifully. I then looked at the captain. 'Hacked by @/f/u/n (friends username) Nerd, but God she's so pretty' I'm guessing that was the friend who took the photo. I wasn't going to lie y/n was really pretty, thats why I picked her (not knowing she was shy ofc) I didn't want Carl dating someone who wasn't a bit attractive, but that doesn't change the fact that I can already see her being a snob

I dislike her at least that's what I will tell myself that way I wont get hurt, not like the last time.

I found myself scrolling through her posts they were mainly of book and braking with an occasional photo of stay cats, she seemed very boring...i once again told myself the more I did the more I would believe it.

#carl grimes #carl the walking dead #the walking dead #twd carl #carl x reader #twd x reader #chandler riggs #chandler riggs x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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kyndaris · 11 months

Text

Purpose and Direction

Mental illness is something that has only, in recent decades, been properly acknowledged. With the help of the pandemic, it was pushed to the forefront of the social consciousness as people struggled to adapt to the new dorm of lockdowns. yet, even in this day and age, there is still a stigma associated with getting professional help to address the underlying issues of one’s psyche. And while society is focused on the high levels of anxiety and depression in our youth, in an age where purpose is almost impossible to find and apathy pervades even the brightest of minds, it should be noted that no age group is immune to mental illness.

Or its consequences.

From a personal level, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no stranger to suicide ideation. After all, when the world seems such a challenge, when all I do is float around, never hitting the milestones in life that others have, there have been days when I’ve wondered if the struggle is worth it. It just seems easier to remove oneself from the equation. To put an end to needless pain and suffering.

And this is exactly where we find Alfre “Frey” Holland in the opening moments of Forspoken. As the game begins, players find the main character on trial for theft. Which is her third misdemeanour. If not for the sympathetic judge, Maya Bird, and the fact that it’s nearly Christmas, Frey might be on a one-way trip to jail.

Fortunately for our protagonist, she gets off with community service instead. After all, the game needs to game. And putting Frey in prison isn’t going to lead to the events of Forspoken now, is it?

As Frey leaves the courts, however, she is accosted by the very thugs that asked her to steal a car and deliver it to their boss. She managed to escape but later the miscreants find the apartment Frey has been squatting in and burn it down. Along with the cash she had accrued to finally escape the mightmare her life had become.

Honestly, not being able to pick up the gym bag full of money bfore Frey went searching for Homer, WHILE THE APARTMENT WAS ON FIRE had me screaming at the screen. Every interaction I had with it, Frey would refuse to pick it up, commenting that she needed to find her cat.

I know the game needs a reason for Frey to hit rock-bottom but learn some common sense!

Anyways, without the means to escape her current situation and having nowhere else to turn, Frey hands Homer to Maya Bird and then contemplates what to do with her life atop the Crossroads Hotel near the Holland Tunnel where she was found as a baby. As Frey debates whether or not to jump, she spots something in the corner of her eye. Breaking into the shop, she find a strange glittering vambrace and, as she reaches for it, is suddenly thrust into Athia.

Just like Alice, in her favourite book, Frey is now in a brand new world. But Athia is no Wonderland. Whereas Lewis Carroll, also known as Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, crafted a whimsical world with grinning cats and mad tea parties, the world of Athia is not nearly as fanciful. Rather, it is a world on the brink of collapse. And when viewed from the lens that its current state is a reflection of Frey’s tenuous mental state: her bone-deep depression that is just one bad day away from utter destruction, it makes sense that the world, although filled with fantastical landscapes and magic, is also a vast empty land devoid of people. Abandoned towns scatter the countryside and the only ‘living’ things are the creatures that have been corrupted by the Break. And as I was exploring the world, I couldn’t help but feel that the land itself was much too drab and washed-out (unless, of course I was in the heavy break-infused lands near the Tantas’ palaces. But those were really just word filters). It was only in photo mode where I could adjust the colour and saturation that Athia felt more alive.

After an encounter with a dragon, Frey begins her quest to find a way back home to New York and her cat, Homer. Along the way, she is forced to fight against the corrupted Tantas. In the process, she becomes a beacon of hope for the surviving denizens of Athia, even though the idea of being a hero is something she struggles to accept until the end. The weight of expectations and the duty thrust upon is something that Frey fights against throughout much of the game. An understandable reaction if one considers her fraught childhood and her difficult circumstances right before she was transported to Athia.

Some might have complained that her refusal to take up the call goes against the usual plucky video game protagonist, or makes her weak, but I thought this characterisation for Frey particularly apt. If I fell into another world that was suffering from a particular malaise and learned that I was their only hope, I’d be scared, too, of picking up that mantle. More so if I had a history of falling through the cracks of society as others failed to provide aid when I needed it and failing to meet the expectations of others.

But, supported by the townspeople that believe in her, such as Auden, Johedy and Pilo, Frey is able to push past the fear that held her back and save the broken land once and for all from the machinations of the evil daemon, Susurrus.

Of course, even by game’s end, Athia is not entirely free of the Break. While the work of trying to clear it may seem daunting, Frey and the Athians are content to put in the hard yards to rebuild. Just because you defeat the ancient demon of destruction doesn’t mean that the world suddenly returns to normal. As with mental health, saving Athia (and oneself) is a journey of thousands upon thousands of little steps. It’s about reprogramming the biases that we have. It’s about taking some time for yourself so that you don’t collapse when you focus on looking after others. And it’s also about accepting those bad parts of yourself and reconciling it with your strengths as a whole.

In not many games have I seen such a thorough exploration of mental health beyond Psychonauts. For, if we are to take the metaphor even further, Susurrus himself is that inner negative voice we have inside. The one that tells us we aren’t worthy. That we’re ugly. That we’re stupid and will fail whatever endeavour we try our hand at. I know that as a writer, I’m one of my own worst critics. Rereading some of my works, I can’t help but pinpoint every misspelling or error. Worse is when I’m editing my long-form stories and wonder why I spent so long on something so horrendously atrocious. It would be easier if I simply deleted everything.

Fittingly, sussurus is a noun that means whispering, murmuring or rustling: “The susurration of the wind in the trees.”

I suppose my only gripe with the mental illness angle of Forspoken is how each Tanta breaks. Theirs is not some slow descent. Somehow, Susurrus manages to push them over the brink and they suddenly go from well-meaning protector to outright tyrant. Or suddenly develop a split personality. I’d have preferred witnessing the descent into so-called ‘madness’ rather than be peppered by notes from the citizens that speak of the sudden reversal in the Tantas demeanour.

And for that matter, I’d have liked to have seen, rather than read, what life had been like in Athia before. Or to hear of the world before the Break from the older residents of Cipal. Forspoken, much like The DioField Chronicle has a lot of world-building and lore that is relegated to the background but remains untouched by the main narrative. It would have shown better the hope the people carried and the resignation they had reached after twenty years of worsening circumstances.

Beyond the story elements, Forspoken is a fun game especially in terms of traversal. After all, it’s not everyday that the main protagonist is a dexterous mage that can do magic parkour. While I did find some of the controls a little floaty or inexact, I loved being able to climb cliffs and watch the trail of magic that Frey left behind as she ran, jumped and floated to her next destination. Combat, too, was a blast. While I know that there are people who complained about it after playing the demo, I thought each set had its own unique quirks. It helped that enemies, too, had vulnerabilities or resistances to certain types of magic, which allowed me to change them on the fly when needed.

Of course, there’s no need to actually change the type of magic one liked best if you were overlevelled, but the different effects and the flashiness of the spells were quite enjoyable to see. That and the fact that you could switch them around on the fly with a button prompt.

Now, the dialogue. The one point that many critics and players alike too umbrage against. For me, personally, I never found anything to dislike about the exchanges between Frey and Cuff. Some people pointed to the awkward writing when Frey discovered she had powers and I retort that if I could suddenly move things with my mind, I’d probably say the same thing. The only character that I felt was lacklustre in delivery was actually the bard: Wallace. Most of his lines sounded like they had been phoned in or they were just said awkwardly.

Once you’ve played through Biomutant and had to deal with the grating narrator commenting on your every move, there isn’t anything else that compares.

Long story short, I enjoyed my time with Forspoken. While I was a little hesitant at first, seeing all the negative impressions of the game, I thought it best to still give it a fair go. And while the ending message was a little on the nose, reminding me of the one I wrote for my short story Unseen, I still feel like it bears repeating. If you are going through something hard or difficult, you are not alone. Help is available! You are NOT a burden. People DO care. Even if it’s just one other life, you HAVE made an impact and you have CHANGED it for the BETTER.

I’m also just going to insert a link to crisis lines for anyone that may need it right here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines

And hey, you never know if you might just isekai into another world and become its saviour.

On a site note, I definitely felt there were a few longing looks that were exchanged between Frey and Auden. But maybe that’s just me trying to see if there’s anything I can latch my fantasies onto. In any case, a sequel to Forspoken might be a far-off dream considering its poor performance.

#video games #forspoken #mental health #Frey x Auden #Or maybe they really are just gals being pals #I'm gonna ship them anyway

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vicvinegarandhughhoney · 6 months

Text

Carry Me Home- Prompt: Bridal Carry, Jack Griffin

Requested by @chipadip

Jack doesn't like chaperoning field trips, but unfortunately this was one he couldn't claw his way out of. Perhaps he would have tried harder if he'd known it would end with Helen Henry Demarcus carrying him through the forest.

READ BELOW, OR ON AO3 HERE

By now, Jack really ought to know that things don’t go his way- not even, apparently, a simple fucking field trip.

When Durbin first broached the idea during an impromptu staff meeting in the break room, Jack hadn’t even thought he would be coming on the damn thing. After all, he’s a part time teacher who, let’s be honest, doesn’t even do that. He spends his lessons napping or planning revenge missions against those who’ve wronged him instead of educating his students, and he’s almost certain everybody in the entire school knows that. Why would anybody consider asking him to supervise on a trip outside school grounds when he can’t even be bothered to supervise on school grounds?

But of course, he’d been added to a goddamn email chain about the trip which Dave- avid nature lover, and the reason the trip’s even happening in the first place- started using as a free space to display photos of squirrels and memes of cats hanging from trees captioned ‘hang in there!” (all of which were liked by Helen) to the point that Jack had to switch his phone to ‘do not disturb’ mode in order to escape the constant stream of notifications. Of course, this naturally meant that his inevitable insistences that really, he wasn’t interested in chaperoning an outing to Wildwood Preserve were buried beneath pages upon pages of junk emails, and consequently ignored. He didn’t have a chance at escaping it.

As they pull up to the parking lot of the preserve, Jack suppresses a sigh at the way Dave immediately stands up to deliver a speech about the trip. He clearly thinks himself the Bear Grylls of Toledo, Ohio.

Lynette shoots Jack an amused glance from across the coach, and he smirks back. Clearly, she’s thinking the same.

Dave’s authoritarian regime continues way past this, though, and no sooner has Jack stepped off the coach than he’s being ushered towards ‘his group’. Well, not exactly. ‘His and Helen’s group’. Jack’s not sure exactly what he’s done to be punished like this, but before he can attempt to protest his placement with the most insufferable woman in all of Toledo, Dave is shooing the group- also including Sarika and Marcus as extra punishment- towards the woods and telling the students to document all of the plant life they see.

Fantastic. As if this trip couldn’t get any more boring.

Jack decides the best thing to do is just bite the bullet, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving Lynette a pleading look as he trails behind the group, Helen nattering incessantly in his ear.

“Y’know, it’s been yonks since I came out here- well, not came out here, I did that during my sixth grade dance recital. Did I tell you about that one? Ah, I probably have but I’ll tell y’again anyway. It was a cold and dark evening on the 28th May 1975...”

Jack inhales. It’s going to be a long, long day.

By the time Jack emerges from his haze of daydreaming, it’s already been a couple of hours. He’s leaning against a tree, arms crossed against his chest, watching lazily as the students around him pick about in the undergrowth for plants to take pictures of and wondering all the while how this can really constitute education. Sure, Whitlock wasn’t exactly high brow when he was in attendance, but at least he never had trips dedicated solely to yard work.

His phone pings.

Chair thief: U bored yet? Bcos I sure am

He grins.

Bored out of my mind. The only thing I’m glad about is that Helen’s decided to start haranguing the kids instead of me.

As if to check, he glances upwards, and is unsurprised to find her stood beside a crouched Sarika. He’s too far away to make out exactly what she’s saying, but judging by the ‘kill me now’ expression on Sarika’s face, it isn’t exactly titillating conversation.

When he looks down, another message pops up.

Chair thief: Does that count as child abuse? I think maybe you should step in, Jack.

And risk transferring her talk onto me? No way, Lyns.

He presses send with a satisfied smirk that quickly fades away as soon as a red error message appears below the text. Undelivered.

Oh, for fu-

Sighing through gritted teeth, he holds his phone aloft, waiting for the signal to repair itself. It doesn’t, of course. All it accomplishes is making him look like an idiot. Okay, you wanna play this game, phone? Fine.

He starts to wander from the clearing, still keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. Any minute now and it’ll send. Any minute now. Any... minute...

A little wheel jumps up on screen, and Jack’s so triumphant he doesn’t notice the log in front of him, his foot slamming against it the second the message finally sends. He howls out in pain, yanking his leg upwards, only to teeter right over the log anyway, landing in a crumpled mess in the leaves on the other side.

His cheeks blaze with embarrassment, but he manages to sit up, glancing around to see if he’s caught the attention of anybody. At first, it appears he escaped without consequence. But then...

“Oh, Jack, there you are! I heard ya screaming like a tomcat in a bag! You okay?”

He half-groans as Helen emerges from the trees, waddling towards him at high speed.

“I’m fine, Helen. I just-“

When he splays his fingers against the ground and tries to pull himself up, though, he’s met with an immediate wave of pain from his ankle.

“Oh, Christ. Fuck, that hurts.”

He looks down and is just a little nauseated at the sight of a bruise beginning to form on the joint. The swelling that’s starting to encase it. He hazards another small movement, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut as it elicits the same shooting pain up his leg. He’s definitely rolled his ankle.

“Ooh. That looks nasty.”

His eyes spring open to find Helen crouched at his side, and just as his lips move to tell her not to touch it, she’s pressing a finger right against his ankle so hard he has to bite his lip not to scream. Even so, he’s pretty sure a small whimper escapes. And... ooh, he really isn’t feeling so great all of a sudden. He’s a little dizzy. Lightheaded.

“C’mon, you gotta get back to the coach- Ralph made sure we were bringing a first aid kit, because you just know how prepared he is. I mean, one time we were out for this teacher training day, and I slipped on a banana peel, right like in the movies, and Ralph-“

“Helen.” Jack grits out, eyes blazing with frustration.

“Right. Yes. Onto the task at hand. Can ya walk?”

He nods fiercely, but the moment he attempts to stand again, that same flaring pain sends him sitting back down again, blinking through spots in his vision. Reluctantly, he shakes his head.

“N-no. Don’t think I can.”

Helen smiles. A worrying sign, by all accounts. “Well, that’s just fine! Let me give you a hand.”

Jack sighs, almost ready to thank her, but instead of simply offering him some help getting up, she reaches her left arm below his knees and her right at his back, and lifts him off the ground.

“WOAH! Christ, Helen, I don’t need-“

Cheeks rouging (something he’s not entirely frustrated about considering how faint he was feeling a second ago) and stomach lurching, Jack yelps as she takes a step forward, his arms leaping around her neck to keep himself from falling. Oh no. No no no no no no no. This is not happening.

Except it is, and soon Helen is emerging into the clearing where all of his students are picking at dead leaves, immediately announcing Jack’s injury to all of them while they stand and watch, flabbergasted. Sarika has the nerve to smirk, folding her arms as he clings on to Helen like a stupid fucking spider monkey, the blazing heat he can feel in his face informing him that he definitely looks as embarrassed as he feels.

“Alright, out the way, gotta get Mr Griffin back to the coach!”

His students part like the goddamn red sea, and he wishes he were crossing an ocean so he could slip free from Helen’s grasp to drown instead. Aware that if he lets himself fall, he’ll be in for a world of pain, though, he instead opts just to squeeze his eyes shut and wait for safety.

He knows the moment he’s close to the coach when he hears the astonished laughter of someone familiar.

“Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He murmurs to Lynette, mortification reaching an extreme.

“What happened?” she chuckles.

Helen helpfully (or not so helpfully) answers for him.

“Oh, he just tripped over a twig- it’s fine.”

Jack opens his eyes to level a glare at her, even as his arms remain hooked around her neck. “Wasn’t- wasn’t a goddamn t-twig, Helen. It was a l-log.”

“Pfft. Twig, log. Same thing.”

Lynette grins. “It was definitely a twig.”

Dave, walking out from a different patch of the woods, frowns when he sees the commotion.

“Oh, gee, did someone hurt themselves out in the wilderness? Let me go fetch the first aid kit.”

Jack swallows. No. No. Anyone but him, please.

Lynette, thankfully, rolls her eyes and addresses Dave. “It’s alright. I’ve got this one. Besides, you’ve got to keep an eye on the whole trip, right?”

Dave hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. I s’pose you’re right... Just... just walkie me if you need to.” He gestures to a device strapped to his belt, because of course he’s keeping his on there like he’s a cop, while Jack’s is shoved somewhere in his pocket where it’s been buzzing annoyingly for the past few hours.

“’Course. Will do.”

Helen sighs. “Right, then. Let’s get you back on the coach, and I’ll let the lovely Miss Hofstadter do the rest.”

Jack barely contains his smile when at last he’s placed down on one of the seats, and Helen disappears, leaving only him and...

“Hiya, Lyns.” He murmurs, leaning back. His cheeks are still flushed, but not from embarrassment this time.

Sliding into the seat next to him, Lynette places the first aid kit on her lap. Her eyes twinkle playfukly when they meet his.

“You really were bored, huh? Gave yourself a life-threatening twig injury just to get away and see me?”

He sweeps a quick glance outside to make sure they’re quite alone- they are- then turns back to her, leaning in until his breaths are ghosting her cheek.

“Life-threatening log injury, actually.” He purrs.

“Oh, right... My mistake...”

And when he closes the gap, his lips meeting hers, Jack doesn’t care anymore that he’s in excruciating pain. That he’s probably going to walk with a House-level limp until his ankle heals properly. That the stories of Helen carrying him through the forest are undoubtedly going to circulate like wildfire.

All he cares about is her.

#bad things happen bingo #ap bio #ap bio nbc #jacklynette #jack griffin

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lukewarmkraftsingle · 1 year

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hello, tumblr user adekuscrub. i am the anon who sent you the ask about reigen's divorce.

i would firstly like to apologize for the demeanor of my previous ask: from what xkit tells me, it was 27 minutes after the ball dropped for new years and i was facing my most cathartic experience yet. following a dream where i was in love with reigen (note: i am aroace), i fell madly obsessed with mp100 and was desperately searching the tags, posting like a kpop girl and her bias. in that sudden delirium (where i was also screaming silently in a discord voice call), i had stumbled upon a fateful video.

if it was any other night, im certain i would give a good chuckle, queue, and move on. but it was not that night. i was absolutely taken. even now, as i think of what to say next, i am replaying the video in another tab because it tickles me so. im going to leave it on loop now. anyways, as you might have guessed: your video had sent me into a frenzied state of dire need.

surprisingly, i didnt have any of the questions you delved into. i believe the mere idea of reigen, a 29-year-old man, being wrecked by divorce and now raising a 14-year-old teenager, was enough to launch my brain into the stratosphere. as i recall, the feeling was akin to being High As Hell and discovering birds can fit in your mouth. (small birds, anyway. im not sure someone can fit an eagle). all i needed was context, information, anything that could add into the brand new fantasy my mind had begun to leech on.

and, as i had asked, you delivered. i greatly enjoyed the screenshots, by the way. and the cat ears gamer headset reigen rendition. i have saved that image to my photos folder for my private enjoyment. i am grateful for the response, as it has brought me several fits of giggles and satisfaction to my mp100-riddled mind. and now, after three unnecessary asks (my apologies. i know its a lot), i will go into my own commentary on the mp100 divorced au.

Of course hes gay. Why wouldn’t he be? as a serirei fan myself, i imagine the ultimate continuation of reigen’s disastrous love life would be finding comfort in his anxiety-riddled employee/business partner (i feel like they addressed his title in the reigen spinoff, but i cannot remember at the moment). in this same line, yes, it would be difficult imagining reigen married to a woman. but, as you have already addressed, this is an alternative universe of our own making. more so, this is a story of discovering oneself through messy trial and error. course, i dont think hes actually been through several divorces, as “trial and error” implies. just the one.

as for with whom: i didnt know what a ‘lavender wedding’ was either, but found it entertaining all the same. i imagine they would have met at reigen’s old job, maybe bonding over similar feelings of loneliness. and maybe the divorce is what lead reigen to quitting said job. something like a not-so-midlife midlife crisis. but, as i mentioned, i enjoy the theme of self discovery. this reasoning is also why i cannot bring myself to entertain the ‘ex-husband from reigen spinoff’ pipeline, because it would the same thing. sorry, gays.

unfortunately, this has brought me into a rut, because i cannot for the life of me think of an identity for our mysterious ex wife. i suppose the ex-coworker idea would work. if it means going into my tastes, her lesbianism would get retconned. though now that i think about it, who said she had to be a lesbian during their marriage? maybe she went into self-discovery, too. yes, i think i like this idea more. it would bring up the possibility of an epilogue, a rehashing of old dirt and patching up sore feelings. maybe a friendship shaped from divorce. i dont know.

to end this dialogue (as i am suddenly aware that the google doc is nearing 800 words), however or whoever reigen settled this divorce with is up to viewers discretion, of course. i find more enjoyment in the emotions reigen would experience post-divorce. how would it feel, knowing your confidant wouldnt, couldnt, accept such an integral piece of you? how would that loneliness sink into you, as you struggle to find another partner who stand to be near you, much less deal with your lies and fakeouts? you want to be someone, but nobody wants you to be that person, their person. its sweetly disgusting how these thoughts swirl in my head. i guess i just like to push this guy’s buttons.

my apologies. i meant to end it there, but i went on another tangent instead. either way, i hope my thoughts brings you something to consider. you probably werent expecting a letter. and im sure some of these thoughts were a bit irrelevant… nonetheless! i open my sincere feelings to you, spurred by passion, delirium, and some sort of disease in my little head. thank you so much for reading, if you ever got to this point. feel free to respond at your leisure.

p.s. you might be wondering why im speaking like this. you see, your reply was a surprise to me: it held the cadence of some sort of indie author receiving their first fan letter, passionate and inquisitive. have you ever watched a film or video with an accent or way or speaking, and, whether by accident or on purpose, you adopt said accent? you could say this was what happened. because no i dont normally write like this. Also i love that ACNL track; it brings fond memories.

[the previous ask. for posterity. what can i say. i like to be thorough]

thanks for the follow-up! the situation unfolds. this was received in a similar manner to the previous one, first thing in the morning, but much earlier, i must admit. as the invigoration of the holidays fades from view, unfortunately, i am being reminded that i have items that i am responsible for, and life is slowly fitting itself back into the typical slog. lovely way to begin such a day, however! that little blue dot on my inbox was as a freshly received, carefully sealed letter which i could not wait to simply tear into. an excellent letter indeed, the sort that i want to read many times over and fully soak in. unfortunately, i am quite bad with envelopes. i can never get a clean peel, or tear across the top, without the entire thing going into little pieces. it's a bit of a weak point for me, but i am too stubborn to use a letter opener. i suppose it doesn't matter. the envelope is not as important as the contents, and you have certainly given me some contents. truly, the envelope icon is a lovely skeuomorph.

enough of that, though. i am absolutely floored. this is all i ever could have hoped for in response. i will attempt to address things in an orderly fashion.

i understand your frenzied circumstances, certainly. it reminds me somewhat of how i felt after i watched mob psycho. well. it reminds me a bit too much of how i watched mob psycho.

this needs to be approached as i approached it. i am not an anime watcher. certainly not. i have dabbled previously, but not with any depth. it's not an uncommon thing on the internet, especially when you have friends who are into anime. the most i had seen was some of my hero academia, some of ouran high school, and the game theory ddlc videos, which may or may not count as anime. i am not a man of anime experience. however, i am a man of mishandling television.

please ignore the current state of my profile. a recent development. it doesn't matter. my profile picture was certainly not reigen at the time.

this is a message sent moments before disaster. and the verdict?

all within 6 days. it's not a terribly long show. could have been worse, yes?

but oh. i have now remembered. i have repeatedly neglected to clear my browser history. for months. many other things stuck in a similar purgatory. it's fine. it provides me with information such as this:

(not to worry. all watched for free, so subbed at the time, with the most powerful ad-blocker known to man, mind you. this is a screenshot of firefox history, okay, and those blocker things run like crazy. my ad-blocker does not mess around.)

started september twenty-third at 9:11 pm, ended on september twenty-fourth at 4:19 pm. all within less than twenty-four hours. i feels as though we are taking part in some sort of mental illness competition. no one is winning. and i say this with affection.

i shortly after dragged gf into this, and we both watched to the end of season 3, through, ah, let's say, alternate means. lovely. and mob psycho is now my go-to thing that i absolutely will not shut up about. my divorce musings should be sufficient proof.

i can't say that it was driven by any sorts of uh. dreams. as yours was that night. but my god. what a way to kick off the new year for you. that is just. i don't even know what to do with that information. i simply need to take it in, over and over. what a couple of paragraphs. what a description. i love it.

i am glad that the cat ear headphones reigen has been well-appreciated. i suppose i only have one other tidbit to add about that image: they are based on a pair i had myself when i was younger. a dearly beloved pair of headphones. i have since misplaced them. they are not fully lost, simply lying in wait, in the depths of some sort of storage area type of situation. the sort of thing you find when you decide to re-organize your room one day.

well. i could elaborate a bit more. there are, in fact, more mspaint drawings.

here is one based on the artful combination of my old discord status and picture, and

here is one that gf used as a profile picture! matching profile pictures! adorable. hers changed shortly after mine did. we were both holding out to see who would change first. an unspoken war. i lost to that one piece of art for the show, made for the urban legends episode, i believe. the one that is in the screenshots from the last post. but how could i not? it is such a beautiful image. to me. i love it dearly. as to avoid repeating myself, i have left some Normal tags on a post containing it, if you are inclined to dig a bit for them.

i am glad that you have garnered such enjoyment from my video, though. personally, when i make something like that, i'll open up my videos folder occasionally and watch it a few times over. that happened more with the video i made for the last response, though. i quite like the feel of that one. i just end up being entirely too pleased with my own silly videos.

a handful of my postings betray a similar appreciation for gay business men. this is the clear follow-up to divorce in my mind. and as i recall from the reigen manga, there was an addressing of Serizawa's title: i believe that it is officially "my man," of course, the highest honor an employee can be given. incredible.

(i know what you are actually referring to, but i do not have the actual part on hand, terribly sorry.)

i do appreciate your placement of self-discovery and trial and error as a vital point for all of this, and as it has brought me to further thoughts. i would like to elaborate on that a bit more in tandem with societal expectations, all while getting vaguely personal, as that is the only way i can think clearly to properly get my ideas across.

like most, i would venture to say, i have lived a very large portion of my life in an environment where heterosexuality was very much the standard situation. a place where any sorts of marriages followed by gayness-induced divorces or lavender weddings would be born. my younger years were filled with a specific idea of what an "attractive person" should be, how "crushes" should happen in pre-teen through teenage years, and other items along those lines. i figure these typical standards are familiar. for myself, they birthed a sort of good ol' 'merican suburbia-induced conundrum. out of an unshakable and then unidentifiable confusion from these standards, i shut myself out of entertaining any sort of thoughts of relationships outside of platonic ones, and, to a degree, i found comfort in aroace labels as i learned those terms, simply because i did not experience attraction in the ways that people around me were peddling. for myself, my distaste for such things was not born of a very healthy place. being the young and generally introverted person i was, i found it much easier to shut out anything romantic, rather than partaking in any sort of aggressive generic heterosexuality, as a certain divorced au man may have. that man interacts with complete strangers so much. it scares my poor, fragile, introverted heart.

do not be mistaken. i deeply respect the Aroace Grind, dearest anonymous tumblr person, my belovèd. i impart my blessings unto you. may your lack of such attractions be born of the beauty of self-acceptance. i wish you the best in whatever Degree of Not Being Romantically Attracted to Reigen Arataka you partake in outside of the world of dreams. keep it real. etcetera.

anyway. i do not remember if there was ever one deciding moment, but i gradually started to realize through some amount of reflection and experience that i did have desires for romance and other sorts of things that follow, but not on the "typical" terms. and it was certainly a long process of self-discovery for me. in fact, it was only a couple of months ago that i thought slightly more than what would be normal about a side character in a television show who did not match the typical image of Hyper Attractive Male Actor, thought about it a bit harder, then realized that i, traditionally not a man, have successfully been duped by male beauty standards for my entire life. this is my official announcement. i do not care for famous men alarmingly toned 6 foot tall jawline whatever. memories of my mother and old school acquaintances talking about actors following that description being attractive rush to my mind. unfortunate circumstances. but i am allowed a bit of heterosexuality. as a treat.

i do not know if you have had similar experiences in coming to understand yourself, dearest anonymous person, but that is the story i have generated to understand myself. i am quite a fan of narratives that allow me to compartmentalize my own mental processes. and thus, it is how i have come to think about divorced au. reigen, raised around similar expectations, figured that as an adult man, he should be in a typical heterosexual marriage. i think this fits in with what little knowledge we have of his family, mostly from the recent fanbook. they all seem to want him to have a "normal" life, and maybe they quit talking altogether after the divorce. although there is some hope, as he does want to rekindle that relationship. the true reasons for the marriage and depth of awareness of other sorts of attractions are up for interpretation, as i am not offering anything terribly concrete, but my thinking about divorced au comes from my own experiences of suppression, trial, and frequent error.

is it okay if i come up for air for a moment? a brief moment of self-awareness? because this was born of a complete one-off stupid video i made in maybe an hour max from idea to completion. and i'm now projecting my own problems and insecurities onto it. what the hell. actually what the hell. what am i even doing man. i have other ideas about mob psycho characters, hell, i have an au idea that i have been obsessing over born of personal experiences first (i might be tempted to go into that at some point too who knows), but the divorced au is the one that gets thousands of words???? the divorced au????? the one that's only out there because i made funy mob drawing???????????? anon person i am grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you back and forth like some kinda cartoon character

anyway. enough of that. enough of the hater part of my brain. i'm having too much fun with this.

bringing up the fanbook has brought another thought to mind: one of the major parts that was hyped up for it was information about reigen's past love life, which, in beautiful reigen fashion, was a showstopping display of dodging the question entirely. if the man is divorced au, it could be a touchy subject, or a situation too complicated to explain. it gives off that very generic perception of heterosexual romance.

i appreciate that you've also fit in some of the themes straight from the show shockingly well. that really stands out in the part where you're talking about how reigen would take it. his struggles with loneliness, with his family's expectations, his other side especially, taking into account his conversation with mob in the finale. feeling unwanted. he may already be a bit more than 16% divorced in vibes. i don't even have anything to add to that, i love how you put it.

straying completely and entirely from the mob psycho discussion, your noting of my tone completely and fully warms my heart, truly. i think it's strange that we tend to do that, pick up on how other people speak. personally, my vocabulary has certainly been completely wrecked by reading a large amount of books when i was younger and a vast quantity of stupid posts on the internet. always glad to be writing things for fun, though. i see it as a sort of puzzle. i enjoy finding the exact words i want to use and meshing them together to flow from one sentence to the next, ensuring that i don't repeat too many as to maintain healthy variety, and frequently re-reading parts to convey my ideas as clearly as i can, even if they still end up mildly incoherent and silly - such a roadblock is inevitable in considering divorced au. i get myself into a certain mood when i want to explain something, and it is electrifying, especially when i do it out loud. i am usually an incredibly timid speaker, reserving myself to only a handful of words at a time and letting other people lead in conversation, but once i feel comfortable and reach a place where i have knowledge and ideas to provide, the cadence of my speaking quickens, i give more thought to the arrangements of my words, my voice reaches the height of its volume and full timbre, and i feel as though i could just talk for hours. it is definitely one of my favorite feelings. i still keep my usual stutterings, but rather than dwelling on them, i find myself gliding over them as i do in performing music; a finger slips, but i continue to the next phrase all the same.

that type of speaking does not translate over exactly to my typing, but when i begin typing anything with great length, i fall into a similar style. for myself, this sort of tone is typically reserved for writing in more professional or academic settings, but occasionally, i offer myself the opportunity to splurge on a silly idea or a niche passion, and it restores my soul, in a way. it places me in that mood where i could go on for hours. of course, if i am writing something in a different setting, it does contain capitalization, but outside of that, i'm really not a capitals kinda guy. i am a huge advocate of attempting to type as speech, generally, especially while texting, and my voice simply isn't that poignant, i suppose. the google dictionary claims that my usage of "poignant" is both archaic and metaphorical, but i do not particularly care.

i meant to add the profile picture, but i didn't want to cut into the pace of my writing. here it is. in all its mspaint glory. whatever sort of conversation led up to it was absolutely, definitely, mind-numbingly stupid. it's fine.

and to wrap it up, once again, i feel the need to reiterate, this is the most incredible response i could ever receive from my ramblings. the most incredible.

oh. let me go ahead and stick the second ask into here too, for the sake of brevity:

much appreciated! god has given me very limited knowledge of html, and i will use it to create a barely functioning hodgepodge of a blog. i hope they're okay with that. gf doesn't like it. i think she just fears my power. my favorite detail is resizing the window. almost everything is decently configured for that.

i hope this addresses your concerns, and maybe adds on some new ones, too!

#mp100 divorced au #is it even fair to tag it as mp100 #yes. i want to have it categorized. none of you can stop me.#mp100 #my stuff

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pattysplaceofplaces · 2 years

Text

Where in the World is Mon Cher

There was no in between with Jean. Either he didn’t care enough or he cared too much. He resided on the highest building he could find. The city lights were more beautiful than the stars, showing a sense of humanity he thought he had lost.

This dilemma of his wasn’t surprising, Gray always had an effect on the people around him. Or maybe he had just given Jean false hope for the sake of the mission. Either way the seed had been planted.

VILE had took him in when he had nothing to lose, when he was happy to waste himself away. Things were different now he had friends, a sense of self worth, a lover he should have never given up on.

———————————-

Breathe in…Breathe out…Breathe in…Breathe out…Br-

The peace was disturbed by flatscreen tv in the living room. Sheena managed to stable herself from her position and open her eyes to glare at Paper Star. “Do you mind? I was in the middle of the something.” The blue haired girl didn’t look away from the blinding colors, as if she was hypnotized. “What? The house doesn’t belong to you.” She took a sip from a tin can and Sheena gagged. “Another Monster? I can hear your kidneys screaming for help.” She was barely able to make out the girl’s snarky remark as she went to the kitchen. “It tastes much better than your kale smoothies.”

Out of all the people she could have been paired with: why did it have to be Paper Star!? That girl was a total menace! Yes Sheena was the best when it came to taming her but she wasn't a baby sitter! Sheena made it back to the living room and took a seat on the loveseat after retrieving her snack. “Listen chick, I know you like to misbehave but I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. Crackle and Le Chevre are gonna deliver the goods to us and we get them to home base. Don’t make things difficult.” Paper Star rolled her eyes. “Awww and I was starting to think you actually liked me. Nagging suits you though, kitty cat.” A deep noise came from Sheena’s throat, a feline’s warning. “Seriously? What’s wrong with having a little fun? It wouldn’t be so bad to start a…friendly conversation now would it?” The blonde woman took a sip of her smoothie. “I’m gonna make one thing clear you graffitied Barbie doll: You better watch yourself because if you start something I’m not going to hold him back. That’s not my job.” No smile, no quips, a calm tone laced with annoyance.

She stood up walking to her bedroom. “Keep the tv and the lights down. Some of us like getting our beauty sleep.” Before Paper Star could make a snide remark the door was slammed shut. She unpaused the tv and allowed her mind to wander. It was as if she was given a premonition in the form of a primadonna. It’s not like she was going to let Tigress get in the way of what she wanted to do. Was having a bit of fun too much to ask for? How cruel!

Sheena let herself fall gracefully on her bed after her nightly routine was taken care of. Eyes glazed through the photos on her phone, taking her back to a simpler time.

Large smiles, peace signs, and the calmly blue sky in the background. A sigh escaped from her, a manicured finger glided across the screen. “Please be okay… but please don’t remember anything either.” The phone was brought to Sheena’s chest as she closed her eyes.

“My first, and my very best friend.”

#Carmen Sandiego #Carmen Sandiego fan fiction #Fanfiction #carmen sandeigo 2019 #Le Chevre #El topo #Jeantonio #Where in the world is mon cher #Where in the world is mom cher chapter 2

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chaletnz · 6 months

Text

Exploring Lima: Miraflores

Around 4:45am I awoke to the sound of lashing rain which was close enough to my alarm so I got ready and summoned Yessica with the reception bell to check out and get in a mototaxi to the airport. This time of day the roads were actually quiet and the mototaxi drivers all wore huge ponchos to keep them dry. While I waited I bought an empanada and some maduro chips, and continued to wait on the flight - all the passengers seemingly had never been on a plane before so they sat whereever they wanted and the cabin crew were wasting time relocating everyone to their correct seats. I had been assigned an exit row - bless the lady who checked me in! There may have been some kind of local celebrity sitting behind me as the cabin crew were fussing over him and taking photos. Once I arrived in Lima and the airport bus had delivered me to my hostel, I left my bag and then went out exploring for the day since the 3pm check in time was strict. Overall it seems like a great neighbourhood, clean and safe, not too much traffic and lots of cool shops, cafes, and restaurants. This district reminded me a lot of Tel Aviv's Rothschild Boulevard and Allenby Street. I began with a coffee at Millimetrica which seemed to be a cafe for cycling enthusiasts judging by the crowd, then went for a red passion smoothie bowl at Freshii which consisted of a blended raspberry smoothie topped with pineapple, banana, and berries. Once fed and caffeinated I could go shopping at the markets, there were a few of them all within the same area, almost entirely deserted. I ended up buying a bunch of things from one shop: a t-shirt, coca tea, coca candy, and some llama keychains. I took my wares and left the market, wondering if I should buy more keychains for everyone at work since they were cheap. I counted up my money and how many I wanted for everyone - I needed 8 and had 30 soles in cash, she was asking 5 soles apiece on the keychains so I asked in my best broken Spanish if she would accept that. She gladly accepted and told me to take another one for myself. On my walk back towards the hostel I visited a few art shops and ended up buying another bottle of pisco and some nice little shot glasses to bring home, then it was finally time to check out Parque Kennedy - the infamous cat park! There are loads of cats roaming around this city park and the city employs people to keep them fed and watered. There was a little art market going on so I bought some bombitas as a snack and wandered around contemplating how I could buy some artwork to take home. After checking in properly I headed out to Larcomar which is the upscale open-air mall overlooking the sea. I browsed a little at a small market there, bought a handmade card, then went for dinner at one of my old favourites TGI Friday's. I ordered the crispy chicken tacos loaded with cheese and bacon, plus fries, plus a milkshake. It was a huge American portion and I felt a bit sick afterwards so I was pleased to walk it off on the way back to the hostel!

#Peru #Lima

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builder051 · 2 years

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I'll take Sherlock and Glee for the asks game if you please.

Sherlock (2010s starring Benedict Cumberbatch)--100% of brain lights up in complete delight... until it all starts to go downhill

Firstly, as you all know, I am on the autism spectrum, and so is one of my biological parents. That is NOT an excuse for improper social behavior, but giving you the background information about possibly how and why happens (or happens to such an extent) could lend some context.

I love to create. Any kind of content. Writing, drawing, painting, photo editing, sewing, setting margins for business letters... the list could go on. It makes me so happy to take on a project that feels fun and feasible. Something I learned when I was young was, basically, if you don't have it, you don't necessarily have to buy it. Look at your materials, or at cheaper materials, and create what you want exactly the way you want it (like, if the beaded princess crown at the Busch Gardens gift shop is, in fact, too big for your head, we can hit up Walmart and get wire and beads and make a crown that fits you, in any color you want).

I've carried that attitude through most of my life. Like, nice-fitting jeans from Goodwill-- I can hem them, the length doesn't matter.

That's actually given me a lot of confidence in my abilities, and it brings out ingenuity with problem solving, especially when it's crunch time (like, signed paper needs to be delivered to the customer--whose office is in Montana--before a certain deadline in not-my-timezone? No prob. Run to my boss's office, hand him a pen, run to the fax machine, run to the phone, let the Montana contact know the doc has been sent, and bam. (Sure, the expectation may be for an engineering review, and the expected delivery method may be SharePoint link, but a signature from the maximum authority and the convenience of instant delivery? No one can complain about that.)

Things start to go south, though, when my efforts (which I consider to be "good energy," if that makes sense) don't wind up doing what I want them to do, or things turn out to be much more difficult than expected. For example, when using black paper and a white marker for a drawing, it will become clear, when one tests the quality of several white markers on a scrap paper, that some are better quality, or better suited to the tasks, than others.

But say I started with the Crayola iridescent paint marker (nice tool for outline/contrast, but not a great choice for linework or edges), and my drawing is not showing up. I must choose, then, to

1) scrap my drawing (and maybe do it again with something like a matte brush tip)

2) go over my drawing again (and again) with the Crayola in hopes of improving what I already have (though with equal probability of ruining it), or

3) become a frustrated mess of hopelessly selfish human and hide under my desk with all the dinosaurs and paper clay and other odds and ends I use for art with my kids.

More often than not, it's choice #3. I don't exactly know how to, like, have frustration for a thing, and, while still acknowledging it as important and real and meaningful (enough so that I still have desire to make the thing and make it in my own correct way), put it away in my brain's side pocket and move to perform different tasks. I tend to try and try and try to bulldoze my way through, risking breaking my supplies (because I so hate leaving projects unfinished, or with the current step/chapter unfinished), or I become sad and feel negatively about myself and my skills and the fact that I will have to put everything away in order to take a break (kids and cats, lol), then get it all out again for my next try.

Glee--cute and quirky, and then it was cutting edge, and then it was the BEST, and then it started tilting the other direction, and it ultimately fell on its own sword and became the absolute WORST

A lot of things, mostly books and classic television programs, that have been considered from, broadly, 1950 to 2020, as "things we will pass down to our grandchildren," including, but not limited to, the following:

Harry Potter-- and that's sad. That's a travesty. Some aged wine grows more precious over time. Some just goes off.

Dr. Seuss--Because he had an actual career, and writing nonsense books was only part of it. I respect that particular treasury. But he was a guy. With a life. And, in comparison, like, even if Bohemian Rhapsody is a glory film, it doesn't erase the bad choices that still stand, unchangeable, in their influence on modern history.

Mr. Rogers (ok, he helps kids learn to tie their shoes... but, I kid you not, one skit in the world of make believe had a puppet who identifies as a woman, performing in a (very fictional) talent show, during which she was dressed up as, and pretending to be, a kitten, who was singing (horrendously) an original song, in which the lyrics begged the Moon (cognizant, apparently, and generous) to give her a star as a birthday present. What the everloving fuck, here? Not to yuk anyone's yum, but... a grown man, who has created an OC 'verse for children (his main consumers) and those who watch with them. I'm seeing... possible ageplay x furry x accompanist? what accompanist? x personification of balls of rock x obvious greed and pestering as a method to be rewarded x light references to Wicca and Paganism (I don't care, but some people might. Could bring on some leading questions from the littles, too.

Magical family recipes that are actually on the back of a can of condensed soup

BMI (used as an indicator of health--Have you ever seen a male ballet dancer? Yeah, like, in jeans on the bus he just looks like a dude. In tights and a tank, he looks like Secretariat. Depending on his height, he probably weighs something like, 1.5x the expected--visually based--BMI. Put him in high-healthy, verging on overweight. He probably eats 3,000+ calories of healthy food on the daily, and regular deadlifts, eh, 100 to 130ish pound partners? See? V healthy. Chart means nothing.)

Binarily- segregated restrooms (Ok, have you seen a toilet stall in Iceland? They're mostly non-gendered, at least in big public places, like the airport. The regular stalls--usually, like, 20 of them in a row, with a couple of handicapped/accessible/baby-changing stalls on the end-- contain one regular toilet. The door and walls go from 1cm above the floor to 1cm below the ceiling. All have sliding locks that operate only from the inside, and outside hardware is barely visible; it's just the flat (no screwdriver marks) heads of the screws that brace the locks to the doors. Then there are sinks. That pour out water. And pumps. For soap. And paper towels. The entire population has a grip on what purpose bathrooms serve, as well as what people do in bathrooms, and the differentiation of both private and public spaces in order to meet most efficiently serve the population.)

Frosted Flakes is (are) the sugary sweet part(s) of a complete breakfast. (!) Conjugate that, Tony Tiger. and WTF is a "complete breakfast?"

Math problems about trains. Nobody cares about crossing paths anymore. It's all arrival time, landing time, time zone, jet lag, how late to your meeting you can be before it's considered rude (and how disheveled are you allowed to look before high fashion hits slobbiness)?

Filler foods, which is a ridiculous American ploy to short farmers and natural food producers by making those goods more expensive and then creating a "store generic brand" version of the same product that's cheaper. Yay, save 20 cents! But that packet of breakfast sausages you just put in your cart is made of mostly soy and meat... leftovers. The brand that's beside it, that has the "naturally raised" sticker on it, that one's made of humanely farmed meat and probably a few salts, spices, and safe preservatives."Far East" instant couscous? Made in America, it's heavily mixed with condensed powdered dairy and soy filler. Kosher couscous pearls, you know, from that tiny aisle with grape jelly and yummy crackers? One ingredient. One! Whole wheat. You do not need a chemistry lab to make couscous.

Why am I so passionately angry about this? I'm allergic to dairy, soy, cashews, and oats. The ONLY milk I can drink is almond. When I eat bites of oral food (usually for social fun), I have to ask for every last ingredient to make sure I will not cause myself to have an allergic reaction, which is different from a gastroparesis flare up, which need to be medically treated differently, lest further damage be caused by overtreatment or symptoms left to stew and spread. My big kid and I are also touch-sensitive to oats, so, in addition to not tolerating whole-grain bread, we cannot use many lotions and shampoos (marketed for sensitive skin, lol) because they contain colloidal oats. There are even exam gloves on the market, meant to help nurses with dry skin, which I do understand is a problem, that contain colloidal oat powder (inside) and have a regular silicone outside. There is too high a risk for touch-transfer, though, and we frequently have to ask and remind practitioners to NOT use the oat-poisoned gloves.

ADDITIONALLY, there are something like 3 or 4 types of formula in existence for sustaining us tubies that don't contain at least one of the major allergens (usually dairy or soy). Of those few, at least one has CORN SYRUP as its primary ingredient. Ok, yeah, fortify the tubies and give them easily accessible carbs to keep them running. But, um, nutrition? Like, the absolute and awful, yet hilarious, truth that pirates (yes, of the caribbean) were healthier than individuals of European military forces traveling by sea, because the pirates ate a more balanced diet--fruit, bread, alcohol (aka sanitary hydration), and the redcoats died of things like scurvy because nobody thought to bring a lemon wedge to go with their hardtack and tea... People don't subsist on corn syrup. They can't exercise. They can't gain lung capacity, the ability to walk long distances, the critical thinking to problem solve and maintain self-care and do work. There is ONE type of tubie formula our family depends on (well, 2, because there's grown-up and pediatric) on the market that is allergen-free, pea protein based, contains natural minerals, and mixes with water and other dissolvable powdered supplements. We're immensely blessed to have it. We have to bring our own if anyone's in the hospital, since it's "rare." But OMG, the stuff has saved my life.

Forgive the ranting. I like to explain myself.A lot.

#starbucks sunday #ask game #ask meme #probably tmi

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littleoddwriter · 2 years

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Forgive me for how odd this sounds, but could you write the Riddler with a GN! s/o who’s like Edward Scissorhands in terms of looks and personality? This literally came to me because I remembered they both have the same first name 😂

Your Beautiful Scars | Edward Nashton/The Riddler x GenderNeutral!Reader | Mild Dark Fic

Hey there! Gosh, nothing odd about it, if you ask me. In fact, I love this idea a Lot! So thanks for sending me this request, I really hope you like what I've done with it. This actually ran away from me the second I started writing, so- :') <3 [Also, I hope by "looks" you only meant the leathery-gothic look and perhaps even the scars he's got, because that's what I went for, fjhsfhsj, rather than giving them scissorhands as well.]

summary; Edward becomes obsessed with you.

notes; Gender Neutral!Reader; (Mild) Dark Fic; Scars; Past Abuse; Reader is also an Orphan; Insecurity; Falling in Love - in a twisted sense mostly; Obsession; Stalking.

Taglist: @gnrlkenob @plat-the-cat Reblogs would be appreciated, thank you!

The first time Ed saw you was in the coffee shop he always goes to on his way to work and when he feels like it on his days off. You captivated him immediately. Something he deemed a hard feat. After all, nobody in Gotham ever caught his interest. Mostly because he knew they were all bad people, that he was better than them. At heart, no one in Gotham was good or innocent. Everyone had blood on their hands in some way. He knew that by now. After having asked himself over and over again what he did wrong to deserve what has happened to him, he's finally come to realise that it wasn't his fault, but that all those corrupt elite were responsible for his lost youth.

And yet, despite knowing all of this, he couldn't help but stare at you when he first saw you. You didn't even notice his eyes on you. Or if you did, you didn't make that obvious at all. There was just something about you that immediately caught his eyes, his interest, his desire to learn more about you. Perhaps it was all those scars that he saw on your face. He could only guess that there were far more beneath the tight leather suit you wore. Truly, you were a sight to behold. Others might have found your scars and outfit to be intimidating or a complete turn off, but not Ed. No, he yearned for learning where the marks came from, why you looked the way you did. If you had scars just like he did. Inflicted by the bad and corrupt people of this city.

When you left the café, his eyes followed you until he couldn't see you anymore. It left him wanting for more.

Luckily, he saw you again only two days later.

And then again, and again.

He learnt more and more about you, the more often he saw you. He knew your favourite drink and your favourite pastry. It was always the same thing. He knew that you were soft-spoken and far too polite for all those disgustingly horrible people around you. They didn't deserve your kindness.

Then, one time, on his day off, late in the afternoon, he finally didn't hesitate anymore and actually decided to follow you to wherever you were going, as you left the shop.

He kept a good distance.

Eventually, you pulled out your keys and turned right, going inside of an apartment building. He waited a few seconds and caught the door just before it fell shut. Quietly, he followed you upstairs, seeing you enter your apartment just as he reached your floor. He walked over to your door and took photos of everything with his phone. Now he knew your name, your address, your apartment number, and he knew where to deliver his next card to.

Edward was sure you'd love it.

What costs nothing but is worth everything, weighs nothing but lasts a lifetime, that one person can't own but two can share?

That was the riddle he chose for his first card for you. Perhaps it was a little too forward. But he loved you already. He wanted you to know that. And if you answered and were just as kind as you always were, wasn't that a good sign? You were meant to be with him. He could feel it.

He watched your reaction to receiving the card through your window. He had it all planned out. And it worked out perfectly.

You went through your mail, looking bored out of your mind as you did. That was, until you've reached his envelope. Handwritten and delivered by hand as well.

Gingerly, you opened it, read through it a couple of times, and raised your head in thought, a cute expression on your face. Ed was so happy that he was able to wipe that bored expression off of your face. He was right for you. He was meant for you. You only had to see it, too.

A smile stretched across your lips and you mouthed the word 'love'. The correct answer.

You were absolutely perfect to Edward. This only proved it.

The next time he saw you at the café, he gathered all his courage and walked up to you.

"Hey, uh, I'm Ed. Edward Nashton," he greeted you, hating the way he stumbled over his words. He already felt embarrassed. He wanted to impress you and this was not how it was supposed to be.

"Oh, hi! I've seen you around here a lot. So it's nice to finally put a name to your face," you smiled at him, "My name is Y/N."

There was silence for a split second. He was caught up with seeing you smile like that and hear your soft voice. All directed at him.

"Would you like to sit with me?" you asked, then.

He could only nod, too star-struck by your gentle nature.

Edward sat down next to you at the counter, taking a sip from his latte to stall.

"What do you do for a living, Ed?" you inquired with another gentle smile, attempting to get a conversation going.

"I'm a forensic accountant. It's pretty boring, I know," he chuckled awkwardly, "What about you?"

"I'm a hairdresser, actually. Not quite as boring as an accountant. Although people like you are very important, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise, yeah? Also, working in forensics is pretty cool either way!" You laughed softly, the sound being absolute music to his ears.

After that, the conversation flowed pretty smoothly.

You even told him that you'd received some sort of card with a riddle written in it from someone you titled as your secret admirer. For a second, he felt compelled to tell you it was him; but he was pretty certain that he needed to be smarter about this and let this progress naturally first, lest he would lose you before he even had you.

When you told him about this, you had a smile on your lips, a dreamy look on your face, as you wondered who it could have been from. If it was one of your clients perhaps. You had a number of people in your mind. And you told him that you quite liked the mystery of it.

By the end of it, you exchanged phone numbers with him and told him that you were looking forward to seeing him again, which he returned in kind.

This was already working out far better than he had almost expected it to go.

________________

Months later, you had gone on several dates, and he's fallen head over heels in love with you even further. And lucky for him, you were also falling for him, just like he had known you would. After all, you were meant for each other.

The two of you decided to spend the evening at your apartment, which he loved. He found out so many things about you while he was there, taking photos of products you used, items you owned, and so forth, all so he could memorise them and provide for you when needed.

Ed's head leaned against your shoulder as you were watching some TV show he's never heard of but you liked.

Whenever you were at home and alone, you changed into more casual clothes, compared to your usual attire for outside. You wore a white, loose button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up, revealing even more of the scars you had. He'd been right about them covering your entire body.

"May I ask where your scars come from, Y/N?" Edward finally asked after keeping that question locked away inside of him for all those months.

He felt you stiffen beneath his head.

"It's nothing," you simply responded, sounding hollow. He hated that tone.

"Clearly not," Ed retorted.

"Ed," you warned him softly as ever.

"I'm just curious. Your scars are one of the first things I noticed about you," he admitted gently, raising his head to look at you, "I think they are beautiful. No matter where they come from, they're gorgeous because they're yours."

Averting your gaze, you looked down on your lap.

"I'm an orphan. I was given to foster home after foster home, until one family adopted me. But, um, they weren't good people. They hurt me. A lot. As you can see. I don't know why they even adopted me if all they had ever done was hurting me, but I guess at least I had a home. I know most of the other orphans didn't ever find one," you explained eventually. Your voice was shaking. It was so quiet and soft, so broken.

Edward could feel the rage inside of him catching fire, bursting into a huge, roaring flame.

His story was so similar to yours. Only that he was one of those kids that never found a steady home.

"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around you. "I know what you've gone through. At least, for the most part. I'm an orphan, too. I just never found a family that wanted to keep me, though. I'm sorry they hurt you, Y/N."

In his mind, Ed promised to make things right for you. He would find out who your adoptive family was and he would kill them all in the most brutal ways he could come up with. They deserved it for what they had done to you. They should have never dared to touch you.

"I guess we were meant to be," you chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Ed's heart burst with love for you at your words, dimming the rage he felt for a moment.

Yes, you were meant to be. And finally you had seen that.

At last, everything was going just right for him.

#i hope you expected nothing too- idk sweet i guess - because yeah my brain won't allow ed to be completely fluffy etc #if this feels somewhat disjointed remember that this is ed's perspective and so yeah #gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader insert #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral y/n #edward nashton #ed nashton #edward nashton x reader #the riddler #the riddler x reader #dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #paul dano #danonation

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