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astermath · 22 days

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hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#tysm for the ask!#stevemath #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington writing #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington comfort #serpentwithatardis #aster replies

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arthur-r · 2 years

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call me gregor samsa cause i keep having the type of unsettling dreams to wake me up changed in my bed to a monstrous vermin

#this is vaguely a vent i am so sorry #i know i said a couple weeks ago that when i metemorphosis reference i’m like. fine. but these dreams were genuinely so unsettling #i’m always at my school building i don’t know where to go except my one teachers classroom #and every time im on the way there without fail something terrifying happens #the one i just woke up from there was a kid knocking on the windows and pointing at there was claws emerging out of the ground #like something really scary had got buried and i said out loud in my dream hey listen i’m not gonna open the door cause either this is a bad #prank or this is the start of a terrifying dream. so no thank you. but a different kid opened the door #and the monster turned out to be a wolf but it was focused on me specifically. like i managed to get away but instead of chasing the hordes #of all the other students of my school running away it chased me specifically. like dream monsters always do #i hate having enough self awareness that i knew that monster was going to be the start of a bad dream. but not enough to change anything #anyway my sixth grade teacher was also there. in the hallway when i was on the way to my other teachers classroom #hey here’s a thing that happened: my mom asked if i can stay after every monday in his room. hey here’s another thing that happened:#my parents have been fighting so much that there’s no way i’m not staying after at least that much #and i think that if all i do there is stay after then i’m great and i’m golden. problems arise when i fall asleep in his class #can’t do that if i’m not in his friggin class. and he genuinely is the kindest adult to me ever and so my feelings are forever complicated #but at the end of the day i’m having dreams where monsters chase me toward his classroom. so. let’s see if i get any other adult role models #and then i can make a priority list. anyway i have work today. killing biting. different vent post to make #anyway it should go good actually. there’s just a lot of stuff hanging over my head #but hey i am very long overdue to watch the next episode of married at first sight. so. let me remove myself from this vent and be regular #and i am sorry for venting. this was just a very hard way to wake up #me. my post. mine.#delete later #vent cw #ask to tag for anything else

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mo49ko · 4 months

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Hello!! Firstly, I must tell you that your art is adorable! You were one of the first artists I ever found for TGCF and your fengqing dynamic is perfect!

I was wondering if you had any tips for learning Japanese? I've been trying to learn it for a year but I can't get the hang of it 〒▽〒 I try to use your Japanese versions of your comics to help but since I've already read them in English, I don't feel like I'm learning anything...

Do you have any advice or tips on where to start? qwq

hello!! thank you so much it makes so happy!! i only started drawing fengqing 6 months ago so it's surprising that you found me 🥹💖i have so much fun drawing them!

hmmm im not studying japanese so i don't have specific ressources... if any of my followers have some please feel free to share them in the comments! 💖 it might depend on your level as well.

however, i think that the most important thing about languages is that they're just a tool to communicate with people/access culture/knowledge in another language, so you shouldn't worry too much about the grammar and stuff like that from the beginning.

as someone who has studied many languages, my general tips are:

learn through things that interest you rather than textbook/language apps (ex. manga, anime, etc.) ※ i know that some people say not to do that because a lot of phrases are "unnatural" which is true, but imo if you have awareness about it you will pick up on that really quickly anyways. the point is just to consume a lot of the language;

try to speak/write in that language even if you make mistakes (native speakers really don't care!!): for example, you can tweet something simple or write a simple blog post in japanese often. you can also comment on people's art or fanfics using simple sentences, then you can read other people's comments to learn new ways to express yourself.

consume media that is directed at native speakers (ex. instead of language-learning youtube, you can just watch regular videos from japanese youtubers about topics that interest you), because that way you can learn a lot of natural/casual phrases to use. i'm saying this because language-learning videos will often "simplify" sentences but you won't hear it said like that irl.

as for where i think you should start, i'm assuming you already know the alphabets since you're reading my comics 🫶 in that case, i would encourage you to read a lot more! for example, you can find fengqing comics and fanfics in japanese on twitter 💖 many creators who participated in the 2023 fengqing web event write them!

for me, the most important thing when learning a new language is to be interested in the people who use that language. so just engage with them and learn through whatever contents you find interesting!! 💗

i'm sorry if my answer is not that precise. you can feel free to ask me if you have other questions!! 頑張ってください～

edit: another anon has kindly shared their experience in another ask!

#english isnt even my first language (<- obvious) and i make mistakes all the time but!!! it doesnt matter!!!!#moko replies #anonymous #i learned a lot of spanish years ago by talking to friends from south america who liked anime lol #learning languages for hobbies is 100% valid and effective btw!!!!#i respect ppl who make the effort so much #sometimes i talk to someone who studied so hard to get N1 but they....cant talk like a normal person...at all....#vs people who learned it by actually... talking with people #just have fun with it !!!!!!!!

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

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His Adorable Pen Pal (Yandere!Thoma/Reader)

a/n: thoma is my 16th max friendship lvl character and i really like his vibes. personally, yan!thoma is hard to pull off. Thoma's such a green flag, if this was an otome isekai he'd definitely be the 2nd male lead LMAO– ((and yee, there are some very smol references from past works, they're not important theyre just iykyk moments)). this took longer cause i wrote diluc's part at the same time to try to get the story feel more connected. also, @kardi76 im so sorry please tell me you slept ;;-;; cause there is no closure (lololol).

gn!reader

a pretty reliable synopsis: thoma would do anything to meet you... (so please don't screw it up).

Cw: yandere!thoma. (Thoma is not self-aware that he's yan and thats the best part--) Implied yan!childe and diluc (soldier & king)

Parts:

Soldier, Poet (You are here), King

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

If you asked (Y/n) (L/n) who "Fixer" was, they would tell you that he's one of the few people who could understand them deeply.

If you asked (Y/n) (L/n) who Thoma was, well, the best response someone could get from them is "Hmm... I guess the name sounds familiar," followed by "ah, so that's who he is. Okay then."

The two of you have been penpals for almost five years, but neither of you revealed your real names. You addressed him as "Fixer" (a pen name Kamisato Ayato had relentlessly recommended), and he responded to your calls as "Levi" (short for the infamous Lunar Leviathan sea legend). This is not due to the lack of courage or trust, but because you mutually agreed that it would add more mystery and thrill to your inevitable first meeting.

But one of you lied.

Thoma knew exactly what your name was. He knew your height, eye color, family, and a number of other personal facts that a regular housekeeper would not have had the opportunity to learn so readily. Earning your private information was his quota with Lord Kamisato for helping him "burn a few stray leaves", but the given information wasn't the most important findings of their investigation, no.

It was the revelation that (Y/n) (L/n), rather, YOU were his first love.

Thoma would happily take up any attractive label that fit his romanticized viewpoint, be it infatuation or puppy love. You were the kid he frequently spent time with within the Mondstadt public library. Granted, you both often took seats two chairs apart from one another, but the sticky notes passed along the table did not make the distance feel too far. You were each other's confidants. You both didn't belong anywhere and Thoma was bound to catch a teeny weenie crush on you.

It's no secret that Thoma is a hopeless romantic. He believes in his lucky omamori and fortune slips, hence it's not a huge stretch that he believes in soulmates too. No one in the Kamisato Estate was surprised when he preached that it is fate that bonded you two together. Lord Kamisato incessantly teased him for it, but Thoma was none the wiser. He thought that Ayato's remarks about being whipped were a compliment and that only made everyone more keenly aware that he was absolutely smitten.

Thoma was ultimately determined to reunite with you once more. The two of you lay on the same bed but with different dreams, and Thoma wished otherwise. He wanted to demonstrate to you that, if a "failure" like him could win the hearts of the Inazuman populace, then Mondstadt could also respect you and your adorable eccentricities.

But that won't be an easy feat.

The journey to Liyue was perilous, but it was nothing compared to his first trip to Inazuma. It was a bit funny how most of the ships to Liyue were suspended. Luckily, Thoma never lost hope. He and Captain Beidou came to an agreement whereby she would allow him to board the Alcor in exchange for a thorough cleanup. And hey, when it comes to housework, he's almost as passionate as Beidou's need to see the Tianquan, so it was a true non-zero-sum game.

Going from Liyue to Mondstadt was quite a chore as well. Some mora is better than no mora, and that was his way of coping after dishing out 900 mora to pay a guide and his spouse to help him out. The guide never shuts up. He kept talking about a drunkard friend from Mondstadt while his spouse graciously tried to focus on Thoma's needs. His spouse was clearly forced to marry the man under a contract. The Mondstadter prayed that your future marriage is far from theirs. Thoma's patient, but he doesn't think you can handle hearing about osmanthus wine, or in his case, housekeeping, for the rest of your married life. (The spouse can prepare some delectable seafood, though.)

Thoma considered whether his determination to meet you again was being tested by cleaning the entire ship and listening to an old couple bicker 24/7. At least he's in Mondstadt now, right?

"Excuse me, miss. Do you know where Mx. (Y/n) (L/n) is?"

Thoma was very amazed by the souvenir shop owner's ability to hear him over the talk of other tourists and the clacking of hooves that returned knights from a prolonged expedition. The town square is adorned with proud flags and colorful banners that symbolized the KoF's triumphant return, which meant the grandmaster is home as well.

Since Varka is here then that means--

"Ahh, (Y/n)?" Marjorie tapped her bottom lip. "That ungrateful kid isn't here. They didn't even bother to welcome their cousin home. They're probably sulking elsewhere."

Thoma flinched.

"Excuse me?"

"What's wrong? You do know what kind of person (Y/n) is, right?" Marjorie said nonchalantly.

"I mean, what did you expect? They're a disappointment to the Imunlaukr Clan, so it's only natural that they would shy away from celebrations like this. It's for the best, no one wants a weirdo around to spoil the festival."

His eyes darkened. Thoma's entire focus was on Marjorie now, and he didn't hear a teary-eyed person running for the stairs.

"How do you have the guts to say that about someone?"

Marjorie raised an eyebrow.

"But it's the truth–"

"Just how much do you know about (Y/n)?" Thoma gritted his teeth.

"Have you talked to them before? Have you taken them out for lunch? Do you know how they feel when people talk about them like that? Do you know how hard they worked to please everyone?"

At this point, the noise from the crowd began to simmer down as they tried to eavesdrop on this confrontation. Thoma subconsciously towered above Marjorie, and his hand slammed the door beside her.

His dull green eyes leered deep into her soul.

"N-No?"

"Then you should watch what you say, Miss."

The scent of embers wafted in the air.

Thoma didn't notice it was his own doing until Marjorie screamed. His conscience was stirred by her horrified eyes, and he quickly pushed away.

Heat radiated throughout the shop and Marjorie's arm, but fortunately, it wasn't enough to cause blisters and unbearable pain.

"O-Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to come off that strong!" Thoma rambled on, fearing that he may have crossed the line. He felt multiple stares drilling the back of his head, and that solidified how wary the crowd was. "I'm just saying you should be careful what you say next time! You never know if you're hurting someone already."

Thoma's not the villain here. He's just teaching her a valuable lesson, that's all.

"R-right..." Marjorie whimpered. Her sleeves were nearly burnt to crisp and Thoma's heart dropped at the thought of additional expenses. Still, he's not above paying the price.

"I'm r-really sorry for the damages!" He blurted out. "I'll pay you back, how much?"

-----

Some mora is better than no mora, sure, but now that latter is starting to sound more like his situation.

Thankfully Marjorie didn't ask for much. Thoma couldn't decide whether to chalk it up as good fortune or the result of being too intimidating. Either way worked out for him anyway, cause he would've tried to haggle the price down if it were too expensive.

But the fact that his emotions got the best of him was alarming...

Did you mean this much to him?

... Who is he kidding? Of course, you do!

Thoma sailed through storms and walked mountains to see you again, didn't he? His protectiveness is just a form of love. Marjorie isn't ill so no harm done, but if the situation called for it he would've undoubtedly escalated it to something more. This type of determination makes him your protector from afar, doesn't it?

"Ugh..." Thoma pouted. "Don't they sell anything other than alcohol here? I can't stomach the smell..."

While looking for a non-alcoholic beverage, he caught a glimpse of a passing slender and tall figure that loomed behind him. His strides were large and the head above his shoulders was etched in a permanently stern expression. The vibrant strawberry hair that crowned his head both contrasted his dim face and signified which family he belonged to–- who he was. It's none other than Diluc Ragnvindr.

Thoma grinned. When you and Thoma had the entire library to yourselves, Diluc used to take care of you two. He had the honor of overseeing two very bashful kids who were three years younger than him. Second only to Lord Kamisato, he was one of the most passionate people Thoma had ever met.

"Hey, Diluc!"

He didn't anticipate anything will happen when he called Diluc's name. The last time they met, Diluc was the nation's rising star, while Thoma was a timid teenager. Diluc may not know him now that Thoma pulled back his golden hair and changed the tone of his voice to one that exudes social lightness.

"It's me!" He grinned and reached out his hand for a handshake. Thoma was a bit nervous. He didn't know if he should be casual with the Ragnvindr heir, but this approach is ten times better than ignoring him. Thoma is not without care for friends. Why wouldn't he greet an old buddy? Especially the kid who played devil's advocate for your shenanigans?

"Th–"

Diluc briefly exhibited signs of fear before clearing his throat.

"Thoma." Diluc bit back coldly.

Thoma hesitantly sank his hand back into his pockets. What was that look for? Did he do something wrong?-- Well, he did almost burn a store down... but it didn't feel like that was the reason behind that face he made.

"I-It's been a long time!" He beamed, joyful that one of the few people who didn't shun him in his childhood still recalled him. "I thought you wouldn't recognize me anymore!"

Diluc hummed curtly. His eyes were sharp, which only accentuated that he hates to prolong whatever conversation this was, if you could call it one.

"I wouldn't dare make the mistake of not knowing who you are."

Thoma chuckled nervously. "Right."

"Is that all?" Diluc huffed.

"Oh," Thoma scratched the back of his head. "How's Master Crepus? I'm old enough now, you think he'll allow me to drink this time?"

He teased quickly before he loses Diluc's attention. It was just a small jest that alluded to the time young Thoma sneaked in inside Dawn Winery, but the look on Diluc's face was indescribable.

One thing was for certain, he was not pleased.

"N-Nevermind, how's Kaeya–"

"Have a pleasant evening, Mister Thoma." Diluc immediately turned his back on him, and his footsteps already drowned Thoma's unpolished ramblings.

"I hope you have fun staying in Mondstadt."

Mondstadt's chatter sounded in a near-endless chorus, therefore confirming that Diluc left the conversation.

He sighed humorously loud.

"Haaaaah... this is one of the most overwhelming homecomings of all time, alright. Maybe it could even top dad's... Wherever he is."

Thoma thought it would be him who would be unrecognizable in both appearance and personality.

But it seems Diluc changed too. And if Thoma were to be so bold, maybe he changed too much. He wondered how you felt about that–-

Thoma gasped.

Wait...

He opened numerous letters about the toxic people. You often compared a "friend" of yours and the people around "them" to a broke coin collector and a few pennies. Several anecdotes described in detail how the broke coin collector wanted to buy a fresh loaf of bread but was unable to part with their money since they believed it will one day reveal its true value.

The "Fixer" thoughtlessly retorted that "a coin's purpose by the end of the day is to be spent. What good will holding on do if you starve yourself to death? You need to tell the coin collector that their life is worth more than what they've saved."

He grimaced.

He was just trying to sound poetic. Thoma never thought that there was a possibility that one of these "coins" might be Master Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

Thoma crossed his arms and shook his head. It doesn't matter. He could be wrong. Maybe Diluc is just in a bad mood, and it's not like the 'cavalry captain' knows that he's "Fixer". It'll be ignorant to assume that a bright man like Diluc became a toxic person just because of one bad day.

Besides, some mora is better than no mora, and you still have him. And even if Diluc walked out of your life, Thoma will never let you be alone.

So don't worry, okay?

-------

Thoma didn't remember Dragonspine being this cold.

The last time he traversed the bridge towards the mountain was years ago, and he faintly remembers traveling with adventurer Cyrus to collect logs. He resisted the cold back then, but he can no longer say the same now that he's a pyro vision user. His pyro shield doesn't seem to provide any warmth in Dragonspine. Kind of backwards, isn't it? Thank goodness Good Hunter's served hot coffee. It was the only non-alcoholic drink they served this festival. His bottle preserved the comforting heat, and his hands were delighted to hold on to it. It was almost a torch for his vision to light up each time.

He also didn't bring a map. It wasn't in his budget after paying the Goth Hotel extra for his stay which was a major bummer (he doesn't recall the prices being that high before?) but it's alright. You write about the place sporadically that it almost felt like he knew the place like the back of his hand.

"H-hoo… I should've brought extra layers…" Thoma shivered. "Y-You made it sound like Dragonspine wasn't t-this cold at all… Oh, dear… I'm r-really tempted to run on the i-ice now…"

Once he pushed away from the branches of one particular tree, the bizarre trip had all been worth it.

"(Y/n)..."

He knew that who he saw had to be you.

Because you were breath-taking.

But that bliss was short-lived. Something was wrong.

"--I'm so glad to have met you and the Fishing Association. You didn't know who my family was and treated me like a friend, not a means to an end."

A crease formed between Thoma's eyebrows and his lips trembled. His face contorted in an ineffable string of hurt and betrayal, and his suffocating grasp on the poor tree beside him burned.

Your shoulders were drooped and you wore a Snezhnayan scarf, but most importantly, you were confiding in this blue-eyed stranger.

You were confiding in someone else that isn't him. He's your soulmate! He should be the only one you could count on.

The thud of his boots on crusty snow stopped Thoma from threading farther. That sounded too loud. If he moved a little closer, they'd hear him. And he can't afford to look like a stalker.

Thoma gulped harshly. He should've prayed that his first meeting with you wouldn't be spoiled by some filthy man he didn't even know.

What are you doing?

That spot was supposed to be for him.

Who is that man?

When you started running and the stranger followed after, Thoma walked to your camp and picked up his unopened letter. His letter sat near your plate and other discarded items.

You didn't even read it before talking to that stranger. Did that man matter more than him?

He tucked it away and smiled sadly.

You're not ready to know his feelings just yet.

But don't worry! You and Thoma will fall in love when the time is right.

It's fate, after all! He just KNOWS it!

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miru667 · 7 months

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Hi again, Miru! Sorry to bother, im always so curious. I've got two questions: 1. Do you think Onceler AU askblogs could still do well in this day and age? Im still seeing some of them alive but they gain very little traction most of the time, barely enough to even keep going. 2. What does lerkimpails mean? Keep seeing it a lot, no idea what it refers to. Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day!! :D

Hi! Don't be sorry! Around 2014-2015 the regular fandom tags like #onceler and #the lorax started getting filled more and more with outside people hating on the fandom, so the fandom agreed on using more discreet tags so that we could see things without having to sift through all the negativity. You can see all the alternate tags here: https://swaggermimint.tumblr.com/post/110118338700/we-need-new-tags

Not all of them are relevant anymore obviously, but as you can see, #lerkimpails is a tag for anything related to askblogs. Over time though and with so many new people joining the fandom, awareness of those tags got lost, but I'm sure some people still use them and/or follow them today.

As for your first question, I am wondering...what is your definition of "doing well"? Do you need 100 notes per post to consider it "enough traction to keep going"? Or maybe you can be satisfied enough just enjoying something with your friends..? If you're only making an askblog expecting to get attention then in my opinion I think you'd be setting yourself up for disappointment... When I worked on my first Audrey askblog in 2012-2013, all her posts back then had an average of only 2-8 likes and 0 reblogs, and half the time I had to send anon asks to her blog myself, but I kept going because I was just so excited to put my ideas and headcanons out there for those 2-8 people, and I still consider it one of the most fun times I've ever had in the fandom. So it all really depends on your perspective and mindset! If you're passionate about something, you will naturally keep going, and the right people will find you and support you.

That all said, if there's an askblog you want to see more of, and if you have the time and energy to do so, you could be brave and engage with them! Send them asks, share them with your friends, tell the mod you like their oc etc, I'm sure everyone agrees it can really make someone's day.

#miruask #etsulovesonceler #i feel like this past year my irl stresses have left me more exhausted than ever so i don't have the energy to engage as much as i used to #but it's nice to see others still doing it! ;v;#i hope your day is wonderful too

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arcofacatboy · 3 months

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is it weird to say i feel like i'm mourning arc of a scythe? like it'd be one thing if the book was actually just not that great n whatnot like harry potter but. the book is actually good. i almost wonder if neil tripped and fell into writing a book with good commentary when he seems to be so incapable of understanding those same things

its not that its nessecarily that its just good, perse, but it made me want to read again. i felt like this series was meant for me, and it permanently affected my taste in books

sorry if it seems like im venting in your askbox its just. im kinda just wondering if my feelings are just felt by me or if others understand

No it’s okay - I’m gonna break some of this down with my own thoughts where I can.

First of all, I can’t really say how you should label your feelings about Neal and his books. I’ve personally tried to avoid using words like mourning or grieving due to the context of why I’m retracting support from Neal in the first place. People, children, are being ruthlessly murdered every day. Me being upset that my (now former) favorite author is completely apathetic towards the victims of genocide will never compare to the grief, pain, and trauma that the people of Gaza and Palestine have been made to face for months now. That doesn’t mean you can’t label your feelings that way! That’s just something I try to keep in mind when talking about Neal myself.

The reason I shifted the focus of this blog, while keeping its original branding, is because I want to at least try to help in a way Neal is refusing to - making his fans aware of the absolutely inhumane treatment of Palestinians at the hands of the Israeli government. Like Neal, I’m by no means an expert on… anything going on right now. I try my absolute best to spread accurate information, but that doesn’t make me a professional or expert. I’m not Israeli, and I’m not Palestinian. I’m a white person living in the relative safety of the USA, who isn’t going to be the target of antisemitism or Islamophobia. I should not be anybody’s primary source of information. But, unlike Neal, I feel like I’m at least doing something, and I want to keep trying to do as much as I can. I’m not trying to one-up Neal here, this isn’t a competition - but I’m saying that all the excuses he’s used for saying nothing could easily be applied to me, and many of the people who have spoken out against him. And yet, here we are.

I haven’t reread Arc Of A Scythe with knowing the additional context that Neal is okay with being completely silent on a genocide, but I have been rereading Dry while keeping that in mind, and, yeah. Neal makes a lot of parallels to real-world crises in that book, and how governments, people in power, and regular people treat them - with where I am in the book right now, everyone not affected by the Tap-Out seems to be completely apathetic and not concerned, because the Tap-Out hasn’t made their life any worse… so it can just be swept under the rug while the people of Southern California lose access to potable water. Literally most of my notes are pointing out how hypocritical Neal is being with his commentary - he’s doing things right now that he portrays as bad things to do in the book. The most egregious example so far is linked here.

So, I can’t say why Neal has taken the stance that he has right now. There’s no point in speculating if he was always this performative in his activism, or if he’s fallen into the Israeli propaganda trap, because it ultimately doesn’t matter. He’s being ignorant and harmful, and he deserves to be condemned for that either way.

You’re not alone in how you feel, I think - a lot of former/current AOAS fans have been really thrown for a loop by Neal’s shit. We have to move forward from here, but no one person can tell you how to do that. (Also, none of this was me trying to be rude or disrespectful, so I’m sorry if it came off that way. One adjustment I’ve had to make for this blog is not talking like a YouTube shitpost, so my tone probably seems a little different from posts I made pre-“Neal being a colonialist sympathizer”.)

P.S about the Harry Potter thing: I’m not sure what you mean by “not that great”, but I agree with you there. There’s so much “not that great” stuff in Harry Potter that the average person doesn’t even know about - the entire franchise is rooted in these really weird ideas about race, class, and a million other things, so it’s bad beyond “oh the goblins are antisemitic caricatures and the author is a terf”. Those things are still extremely bad, don’t get me wrong. But if you want to know more about how bigotry permeates into every part of the franchise - not just the movies, books, and Hogwarts Legacy! - I recommend this video essay by Lily Simpson. It’s ten hours long, but definitely worth a watch. (Yes I did watch the entire thing over like, a week this summer.)

#arc of a scythe #scythe #the toll #thunderhead #neal shusterman #aoas #gleanings #unwind dystology

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lunarkyn · 1 year

Text

[ FAMILIAR TASTE OF POISON : 01 ]

You love him, you remind yourself, as you catch him with his hands up his co-workers bra. He loves you, he reminds you, as he holds you after a traumatic episode. He was your salvation, your escape from your past; yet at the same time, he reminded you of everything you wanted to run from.

notes. welcome to the first chapter of familiar taste of poison!! im sorry it took so long, life has been a whirlwind of excitement and angst lol. i'll be working towards releasing the second chapter ASAP!

genre. good amount of angst, fluff, a fairly toxic relationship

pairing. billy hargrove x reader

rating. nsfw

current c/w. THIS HAS SOME EXTREMELY GRAPHIC CONTENT. dni if you are uncomfortable reading scenes that involve sexual assault (i am not censoring the triggers, people who read these need to be aware of what happens). involves very toxic relationship dynamics (ex: manipulating a trauma bond). there is some implied sex scenes & some graphic swearing.

nsfw tag due to the current trigger warnings, which I feel are not appropriate for regular “safe for work” readings.

stranger things masterlist |

[ 01 ] “The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison.”

His lips trail down your skin, down your exposed breasts and over your stomach, the fire of shame licking up your figure and engulfing you in a bright pyre. What was his name? His touch ripped shreds into your dignity, your purity, your being. What is even going on?

You shoved at his shoulder, grappling for a sense of control in this pitiful situation; any fight to ground yourself in this world and escape to safety.

Why did you feel so hazy?

Just moments before you had been joking around with some boy at a party– a boy who looked nothing like the one forcing himself on you. Had you looked at him with drunken eyes that gave him a different inclination? Were you too friendly when he walked over and guided you to a room?

"Your body is so fucking perfect," he whispered against your navel, returning to your bruised chest. He took a nipple between his teeth and tugged it roughly, leaving the blotched red of torn skin unloved in his actions. "So fuckin' perfect."

You could do nothing. The weight of your mind had clouded your senses, and the haze of the room felt as if everything was spinning. A sense of overwhelming fear and the betrayal of your body, weakly laying there and taking his brutalities, despite your mind telling you to fight.

Get a grip, YN. Knock him out, swing on him, claw his eyes out, do something better than letting him do this. Fight.

His hands brush along your pants hem, fumbling to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your still hips. The jeans fabric burns along your skin, over your knees and past your ankles, falling to the cold floor. Your voice is barely a whimper, pleas of mercy falling on deaf ears. Eyes struggling to stay open, succumbing to exhaustion and barely supplying enough adrenaline to stay awake, you begin to fall from grace.

With your failing strength ebbing away, you lay, humiliated and ashamed; his rough hands touch your immodesty, leaving bruises at the wake of his heavy gaze.

This can’t be happening.

A loud knocking raps along the door, swinging open wide enough for the silhouette of a head to pop in. The boy above you leans back, sitting on his haunches, his filthy touch leaving scars in your dignity as he covers your petal.

“Everything good in here?” The saviour asks, opening the door further. The golden light from the hall shines around the figure of your guardian angel, illuminating the room. "Thought I heard some fighting."

You survey your surroundings with this sudden burst of hope, unable to recognize anything in the room. Your shirt was thrown onto the back of a desk chair, torn from breast to hem. The new black bra you were so excited to wear was hanging from a strap on a bookcase, hooks unclasped and missing pieces of the latch.

“No,” you rasped, throat dry and closing in on itself; you nearly choked on the lump. Eyes welling up and raining tears down your cheeks, the last of your energy used to weep pitifully at your situation.

“Yeah, we’re fine, Hargrove.” The boy shouted back, his nails digging into your pelvis. Thumps of heavy footsteps and the loud crack of the door shutting crushed your heart, leaving you to lay in the mercy of your attacker, eyes screwed shut in preparation; the smell of cigarettes and booze infected your sense of smell, the face of an archangel descended from the heavens leaned above you, eyes trailing over your figure.

His eyes stared into yours, the whites bloodshot and the blues of his iris staring into yours.

“I want your answer, doll,” the archangel watched down to you, dark lashes kissing when he blinked. You lay still, lethargic from the highs of adrenaline and exhaustion crashing down, dumbly shaking your head. His eyes narrowed; a sudden turn of his body and his hand was dug into the other boys’ hair, yanking him off of you and onto the floor.

“The fuck you do to her?” He growled, moving between you and the boy. Your eyes prickled, closing shut around the flood of tears that trailed down your cheekbones and past your earlobes, dampening your hair. The darkness consumes you, melting you into the cold mattress pressed against your back; the smells and noises and sights turning into the blur of the shadows in the night.

When you had regained the energy to open them again, you were in someone’s car, the rumble of the engine purring away as the driver directed the car around a turn. Your body bare, save for a pair of hot pink panties, and covered in goosebumps, you sat still in shock.

Those weren’t your panties. Those marks weren’t there before. Where were you? Why were you laid so bare in someone’s car?

The driver kept his eyes on the road, only moving from his attentive position to reach back to the backseat and pull back with a maroon red button-up, tossing it onto your lap. You spread it to cover your legs, tugging up the sleeves to cover your breasts as best as you could.

Turning to face the driver, back pressed up against the split between the door and the seat, you examined his features. His jawline was straight and rounded at the crook, a five o’clock shadow of a beard and mustache slightly damp with sweat. Eyes focused on the road, he glanced over to you, the corner of his lip visible to you quirking up for a second. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he reached into his breast pocket and fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds, pulling an orange and white cigarette out from the pack.

It stuck between his lips as he fished out a silver zippo lighter, the tiny flame licking up the tip of the white stick and burning the tip into ash. He dropped the zippo back into his pocket, taking a drag out of his newly-lit cigarette.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, looking away from his burning gaze when he once again glances at you.

“Your place, if I knew where you lived,” he answered, dragging out a pull until a fourth had burned off the stick. The pungent smell of sulfur and tar seeped into your sense of smell, an acrid taste of burned barbeque following. He reached over you, fumbling to crank down the passenger window; with a scoff, he retracts his arm, noticing how you shy away from his touch.

“Crank it yourself then, unless you like second-hand,” he grumbles, exhaling the smoke towards his cracked window. You end up cranking it down, albeit keeping an eye on him from your peripherals as you did so.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Left ‘em behind. Wasn’t thinking to pick them up while I was busy carrying your ass outta there,” his voice is gruff; he pauses to release a cough, voice raspy when he continues, “They were ripped up anyways. How much d’you remember?”

“Enough.” You tell him, watching as the trees pass by– or rather, how you pass by the trees. As much as you wanted to keep questioning how you got into this situation, how much he knew, you couldn’t. He got you out of there, and that was all you really could ask for.

“Where’s your house?” He asks, stopping his car at a stoplight.

“2532 Maple Street,” you mumble, jolting when his hand brushes the side of your thigh as he messes with his center console. He revved the engine once, jolting the car forward when the light turned green.

“You live next to Nancy Wheeler.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, so you don’t bother to waste more energy affirming it. Instead, you hold your thrumming head, recounting your memories to try and piece together the gaps.

How would you tell your parents?

They had been so adamant against you going to any high school parties, especially without any supervision from your older brother. Coming home like this, practically naked and wearing a random guy’s shirt? To them, it might as well have been the equivalent of coming home barefoot and pregnant.

“What’s your name?” He asks, breaking the silence that had draped itself over the air.

“YN. You?”

“Will.”

You nod, watching as he turns up the radio. A song that sounded familiar began to blast, accompanied by the thumps of Will’s hands against the steering wheel to the beats. He hums along, clearing his throat and launching a wad of spit out the window.

You mull in your thoughts, listening as his gruff voice mumbles along to the lyrics, pausing his thumping to the beat to turn the wheel.

“Pay attention to the cracked streets and the broken homes,” He turns the car sharply again, narrowly missing a parked car as he revs down the street. The roads become familiar as he barrels through a red light, comfortable with the empty roads and parked cars. “Some call it slums, some call it nice.”

He pinches off the bud of the cig, tossing the burned stick out the window.

“I want to take you through a wasteland I like to call my home,” he pulls the car around yet another bend, your lovely home peeking out from the intricately placed trees of your neighborhood. The lights of your house are off, so you assume that your parents and brother have already gone to bed. Lucky for you, you had remembered to hide your spare key under the rock in the garden.

He slows to a stop in front of your house, scoffing when you rush to crank the radio to silent; he shifts the gear into park, turning the keys and pulling them out.

“You need help getting in?” He asks, ripping a loose string from his jean jacket and dropping it to the floorboard at your feet. He looked towards his rear view mirror, examining himself in the reflection.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you answer, pulling the handle and stepping out, your wobbling steps resembling a newborn foal. You hear his door open and shut and the sound of his boot-clad footsteps thumping around the car to you, his arm slipping under yours and around your waist, nudging your arm over his shoulders. “I said that I'd be okay without your help.”

“If you trip and get hurt it’ll be on my conscience for not helping,” he helps you up the sidewalk and down the driveway to your front porch, even holding your waist as you bend over to grab your keys. "There's already enough on my conscience as it is."

You unlock the door, peering into the dark before thanking him quietly. Once again being stubborn, he follows you in, scanning your foyer and living room. He stays behind you as you ascend the stairs, too tired to care about how he had a front row seat to your bare ass, thanks to the thong-style panties he had put you in.

Put you in… he dressed you… he saw you…. naked.

Oh my god.

You hurry the rest of the way up the stairs, yanking him into your bedroom and pushing his nose into the corner of your room.

“Stay,” you whispered, nudging his head further in the corner before hurrying to your dresser and shucking off the clothes he had dressed you in and putting on your own underwear and sweatshirt, including a pair of pajama shorts in the mix.

You fold his shirt, setting it on his shoulder as you tossed the panties into your hamper. No way he was getting them back before they were cleaned.

“Just the shirt?” He asks, scoffing when you answer with a simple no.

“I’ll give them to you when they’re clean,” you finalize, tying the strings of the waistband into a loop and brushing yourself off.

“Whatever, prude,” he turns around, no longer waiting for you to give him the go-ahead.

“Leave through the window. It’s an easy drop,” you tell him, nodding towards your open window, the curtains blowing in from the draft. “Just avoid my mom’s flower bushes or she’ll kill me.”

“‘Kay.” Will hooks his fingers under the window, tugging it the rest of the way up, grabbing an emerald necklace from atop your dresser on the way out. “Insurance– gotta make sure I get those panties back.”

“Why’s that?”

“They belong to DeNorez.” He tells you, grinning. You gag, cringing at the thought of wearing the same panties as Monica DeNorez. He laughs, leaning against the windowsill and seemingly taking a strange pleasure from your disgust. “Kidding; I bought a pack of ‘em in case I needed to replace some one-nighter’s. Got a tendency to rip ‘em off, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross.” You respond, walking up to the window and unlatching it, preparing to drop it closed. “I’ll see you around, Will.”

“Yeah, cya, YN,” he drops down from the overhang, casually strolling to his car as if he did this on a daily basis. The headlights of his car turn on, and the radio is turned up again as he drives off, the bass thumping the floors of your home.

“Welcome to Paradise.”

♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆

You stepped out of your brother’s car, waving goodbye to him as he peeled out of the parking lot. Slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder, you passed through the gates of the public pool entrance, surveying the area as you walked.

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have gotten a job like this, but the sudden overbearingness of your mom after finding out about your little incident thanks to Will’s loud ass stereo, became too much to deal with. The strictness of her curfew along with her constant prying to ‘what really happened’-- you never had the heart to admit what you went through. It was hard enough having to admit it to yourself.. to tell someone else about it just felt like it solidified it into the truth. Lying was easier.

Pausing to scan the building markers and crowds, you pushed through a large group and headed to the small staff building. A small lady sat at the desk inside, scribbling something on a notepad and then typing it onto the typewriter to her side. She looked up at the tingle of the bells hanging above the door, a wide smile spreading across her face at the sight of you.

“YN, right?” She stood up, outstretching her hand, “I’m Pamela Winters, but you can just call me Pam. It’s nice to finally meet you. Please, sit.”

You shake her hand, stepping around the red pouf chair in front of her desk and dropping into it. The seat was hardened beyond comfort, most likely having been sat in too many times to count.

“Are there any questions you have before you start?”

“Not really,” you lick your lips, “Where can I store my things?”

She stands from the desk, rounding it and walking to a door you had formerly believed to be a bathroom. She opens the door, motioning for you to follow. The two of you walked down a slim hallway, watching as she pointed to each of the labels of the door.

Women’s changing room. Men’s changing room. Employee lounge.

“Inside each changing room are five rows of lockers, twenty lockers in each row; visitors can rent locks from here, we have a list of all the codes in case someone forgets theirs,” she hums as she guides you into a storage room, which was filled with racks of pool equipment and cleaning supplies. “Everything you need for closing is here, plus extra. If you want you can buy a lock for yours in the lounge, but honestly, I don’t think anyone is gonna want to snatch your stuff.”

She turns you back around, strolling back to the employee lounge door. The door had no lock or pin pad, which slightly concerned you, yet you continued alongside Pam without a word. Pam pushed the door open, nodding to a curly-haired brunette who was pulling her hair up into a mess of a ponytail. The girl stood up from her seat at the table in the center of the room, letting her hands drop to her sides as she circled around to stand with the two of you.

“Hi, I’m Heather,” She introduced herself, brushing off her periwinkle jacket as she stuck out her hand for you to shake. “She can shadow me, if you want, Ms. Pam.”

“That’d be wonderful, I’ve got some paperwork I need to do anyways. That’s really all for the tour, so YN, if you don’t mind shadowing Miss Halloway here then that’ll be your on-site training.” Pam told you, patting your back as she exited the room.

Heather stepped back, slipping her jacket off, leaving her in a one-piece lifeguard uniform. You stood at the door as she put her jacket back in her locker, the yellow whistle dangling from the rope around her neck, ringing soundly as a bell.

“So, why’d you apply here?” Heather asks as she leads you down the exit, walking through the women's changing rooms rather than the main office. You simply follow, playing with the threads of your army jacket.

“Change of scenery,” you respond. It wasn’t exactly a lie – just not the full truth.

“Well, it’s definitely a change alright.” She stops at a lifeguard stand, dropping her white and red sunglasses onto her nose as she looks up at the person sitting on the seat. You shielded your eyes with your hands, following her gaze to a shirtless lifeguard who was yelling at a kid to stop running on the concrete.

The lifeguard turns to look down at the two of you, eyes covered by their own pair of yellow sunglasses. They descend down the stairs, and suddenly, the smell hits you. Sunscreen and Marlboro Red cigarettes.

“Hey, Halloway. Break over so soon?” The guy ignores your presence, instead focusing his attention on Heather. Not like it mattered anyways. You weren’t here to date anyone. “Who’s the new kid?”

Heather climbs up the stand, leaving you to introduce yourself as she pops open the umbrella and takes off her sunglasses, settling into her post.

“YN,” you introduce yourself, watching his face as he pulls down his sunglasses. Will.

“Hargrove,” he shakes your hand, ignoring the gobsmacked look on your face as he eyed a middle-aged woman who was applying sunscreen to the exposed parts of her torso. You retract your hand and settle it back into your pocket, following his gaze again as it settled on another middle aged woman who was adjusting her breasts to be fully covered again by her bikini top.

“Nice to meet you.” You sit at the edge of the pool, splashing the water as your feet submerged. He crouches next to you, his nose brushing against your hair as he lips graze over your ear.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You shivered, scooting away as he began talking to Halloway about staying behind late to clean up the men's locker rooms. You listened quietly, instead paying attention to a group of kids horse-playing around. Neither lifeguard made a move to stop them, so you assumed that it was alright.

“Do you need a ride home, YN?” Heather asked, looking down at you. You returned her gaze, forcing a small smile.

“No, that’s okay, my brother’s supposed to pick me up.”

“Okay, good. See? We can totally hang out then after you get done,” Heather tells Will, playing with the whistle dangling from her neck.

“Alright alright.. fine,” Will replies, stretching as he stands. “Well, just wait up for me in the office while I tidy up.”

A group of women begin to pack their bags, loudly gathering their children as they flocked out towards the locker rooms. You checked the plastic watch you wore on your wrist, counting down the ticks until you could go home.

4:14

Halloway descended from the lifeguard stand, sighing loudly as she began packing up the umbrella and the floaties. You followed her around as she showed you all the spots to put things away at, watching as she stared at Will’s butt as he slipped into the men’s changing room.

7:45.

Where had the time gone?

The pool area was practically empty, save for a few ladies who lingered near the women’s changing rooms, talking up a storm. A family of five was loading up into a van in the parking lot, their loud chatter echoing into the woods beyond the road.

You looked towards the buildings, watching as the falling sun left a strip of golden light along the tops of the roofs, which quickly dimmed. Soon enough, the families were gone, and the only source of light were the spotlights that surrounded the pool and its structures.

7:58.

“Let me go punch my card, and I’ll wait by the gate with you until your brother gets here.” Heather tells you, slipping into the main office. The lights illuminate the windows, and you hear faint voices from inside.

7:59.

8:00.

8:01.

The doors jingle open, and she steps out. Your bag and hers are strapped around her shoulders, and she hands yours to you.

“Thanks, I would’ve forgotten it,” you tell her, swinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Figured. It’s a lot to take in.” She replies, walking alongside you to the gate. Only a blue Camaro sat in the parking lot now, which you knew was Will’s car, considering he drove you home in it once already.

You wondered if he told Heather about your first meeting with him. What was their relationship anyways? Were they just co-workers? Friends? Lovers?

Not like it mattered, you told yourself. It was just curiosity.

8:15.

Where was your brother?

“By the way-” The sound of footsteps stopped Heather’s train of thoughts as you both turned around, watching as Will walked over to the two of you, keys jingling in hand. He nodded to you, smiling as he shut and locked the gate, pocketing the keys.

“Your ride hasn’t come by yet, YN?” He asks, standing next to Heather.

“Nope,” you answer, leaning slightly to see if you could see his headlights down the road. “Guess he got caught up in something.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just take you home, you can call him from there.” He tells you, already heading over to his car.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait.” You tell him in response, sitting on the curb. Heather already looked like she was rearing to go to wherever they were heading to, and you certainly didn’t want to spoil her fun. “Enjoy your night.”

He lingers for a moment, then he slips down into his car, letting it warm up for a moment. You thought he might stay considering how his eyes settled on you, but Heather’s wave to you must have snapped him out of it.

The stereo blasts an unfamiliar song as he pulls out of the parking lot slowly, his headlights beaming on you for a moment too long, causing you to squint your eyes as he turns out onto the road. It takes a moment for your eyes to readjust to the single spotlight of the parking lot.

An owl hoots in the distance, and you watch the shapes of the trees sway in the wind. Pulling your jacket tighter, you mull over your plan for tomorrow. Did you want to pack lunch? Buy some chips on the way to work?

You check your watch, shivering as your arm leaves the warmth from inside your sleeve.

9:34.

What a jackass.

You'd make sure his ass got chewed out when you got home. Exhaling, you watch as a puff of steam comes from your parted lips.

9:35.

Might as well walk home at this point, you think to yourself, heaving yourself upwards as you begin to walk towards the road. Thankfully, you had a pretty good mental layout of the town, considering the lifeguard training had you taking the same path for nearly two weeks straight.

It’d be easy to walk home.

Right?

9:37.

You turned back, watching down the road as a cars headlights shone brightly. You paused, watching as a blue Camaro looped through the parking lot, pulling up next to you. The window cranked down, and there sat a casually dressed Will, hair slightly damp and messily pulled up into a mix of a bun and a ponytail.

“Your ride still isn’t here?” He scoffed, turning the key back and shutting off the engine. The car door swung open as he stepped out, hand on the roof of the car as he shut the door. He opened the back door, pulling out a small quilt as he wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger side.

“I’ll just walk home, it’s fine,” you protest, grunting when he lifts your legs and drops you into the passenger side front seat. Your bag is tossed to your feet, and the door shuts behind you as he rounds the car to the drivers side. The thump of the back door finally motivates you to just accept it and click your seatbelt on, watching as he falls into the driver's seat and cranks up the heat.

“Too dark to do that safely, you know. I coulda hit you if I wasn’t paying attention,” he turns the wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading down the familiar streets to your home. For once, he turned down the music. “D’you mind if I come in when I drop you off? Only for a second. Gotta pee.”

“Sure.” You watch the trees pass by, wondering if the animals that lived inside them were as cold as you were. “Do you have a hero complex or something, Will?”

"Whadd'you mean?"

"Like, do you always try to save girls all the time?"

"Only the ones that need saving."

"I don't need saving."

"Yeah, sure you don't."

He pulls out the box of cigarettes, chuckling as you preemptively roll down the window. Will reaches over to the glove box, apologizing quietly when the lid hits your knees. You hiss from the sudden pain, dropping your knees down so that your legs were outstretched.

Will lights the cig and slips it between his pursed lips, the ashes falling into his lap. The car cruises into your neighborhood, and you’re just about to tell him to park on the street before he guides it into the driveway, right up next to your brother’s car.

Hmn.

You slip out before he can say another word, dumping the blanket into the seat behind you as you yank out your bag and hurry down the sidewalk to the front steps of your home. The door is unlocked as you twist the knob and push it open, waiting for Will to step inside before shutting it behind you.

Your brother's mop of hair sits at the couch, watching TV as he talks to your Dad. Dad, however, swings his head around to see the newcomer, eyes immediately suspiciously looking him over, then turning to you. You stomped over to your brother, shoving his head forward.

“You never came to pick me up, Chase, what the hell man?”

“Language.” Your mother pipes up from her office, her head poking out the doorway to monitor the commotion.

“Look, I forgot, my bad,” Chase stands up, hands splayed out in surrender. “I got caught up with stuff and came home and took a nap, I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick you up, my fault.”

Dad stands as well, hand outstretched towards Will. Chase finally seems to notice Will, eyes narrowing as he looks him over.

"Hargrove."

"LN."

"Thanks for picking her up. Don't do it again."

"Can't help myself, you know. Damsel in distress' always pulls at my heartstrings." Will reaches over and shakes your Dad's hand, grinning. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to take your daughter out tomorrow. To the movie theater."

“After work?” Dad asks, eyebrow raising as he looks at you, then back at Will. “What’s your name again, son?”

“Billy Hargrove, sir.” Will introduces himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He rocks his feet back and forth, staying a few feet away from you. “I’ll have her back before 10.”

“9:30 sharp. She’s got a curfew.” Dad tells him; Will nods. He didn’t even bother to ask you if you wanted to go. “Any later and I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.”

“I’m almost 18, Dad. Are you really giving me a curfew?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have snuck out and partied all night.” he retorts, thumping back down onto the couch with a huff. Mom comes in for the rescue, accepting a half-hearted introduction from Will as he stares down your brother.

“Well, I should get going. Lots of damsels to save.” Will announces, accepting a twenty dollar bill from your Mom.

Dad laughs, apparently taking it as a joke as your Mom nudges you after him.

“Say goodbye to him, since he drove you all this way on his own, YN.” Mom tells you, shutting the door behind the two of you. Your family’s voices are muffled as they discuss something, and you hear Chase storm up the stairs, his voice a little bit louder than your parents.

He passes you back the twenty, ignoring the way you push it back to him, instead opting to descend the stairs. He turns to watch your awkward expression as you stuff the twenty into your jacket pocket, smiling at you.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” You tell him, crossing your arms to keep in the heat. “I'll try not to be a damsel in distress again.”

“It’s no problem. With a damsel as pretty as you, I’d be happy to be a hero all the time.” He smiles, stepping up one of the stair steps so he was slightly taller than you. “Look, about the name thing, I know you’re probably wondering–”

“It's fine, I get it.” you step back, rubbing your arms. “It’s cold, so.. I wanna head in and warm up.”

“Right... Sorry.” He steps back down, seemingly unsure of himself. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

"Yeah."

"Bye then, YN."

"Bye, Hargrove."

You step back inside, shutting the door behind you, still holding onto the knob. It wasn't until you saw his headlights pass over the window and down the road, disappearing into the distance, that you finally let go.

tag list:

@kibumslatina @ellar21 @fujiihime

#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove smut #fanfic #imagine #wip #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things #cw: sa #tw: sa

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theoriginaldickmaster · 2 months

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(NOOO. I didn't mean to make you sad im sorry😭 no like really!! IM SORRY.)

(I jst feel like hes too nice yk? Im sorry still, change, dont change. Totally up to you! Im just telling you to be aware😭. You're a great adam honestly, and ive been an anon many times to you. Ive been here since like i think one of the first, but like im not claiming to be ur biggest fan but like ive been here for so long 😭soo... )

(Again, im just telling u to be aware, cause like i had to leave other adam rp'ers cause they got so out od character it got ANNOYING. Again, sorry, sorry. I think im just so biased to adam😭 and maybe to you cause i dont want u to be so out of character ill have to leave you too😔)

(Also, i love the fact that adam truly loved eve lore. I admire that. AGAIN, im so so sorry 😭.)

(No it’s okay it just kinda…shocked me yk?)

(I get the nice thing, like I rlly do. But in my head it was more like with the regulars yk? Cause I feel like Adam could and would be able to grow bonds with people, plus like Adam’s an asshole but he’s not heartless 😭 like unless it’s a sinner he could probably be sympathetic 🌚 but maybe he should just be an asshole forever 😓)

(I do appreciate you telling me I get what you mean with the ooc thing but like at the end of the day I’m not Adam, I can’t tell you exactly what he thinks why he does the things he does and such and such. All I can do is look over his character study his characteristics take his lore into consideration along with anything else I can find and just yk try? 😭 I hope I don’t sound mean I’m really not trying to me I’m just trying to explain it right)

(And really it’s fine I was just a lil shocked plus I was alr a lil upset)

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itsgoghtime · 1 year

Text

I’m always late to the fandom game - but I had to make a post about this.

@nobody33333333 - I’ve begun reading your S.O.S. fic and just finished the first chapter and it’s literally the best thing I have read in MONTHS!

Absolutely floored me from the first sentence - a symphony of words that flow so well and the way you depicted each character and the plot itself and hearing inner thought processes - IM HOOKED. (*also to note, you’re helping me in all the best ways to cope with not having season 3 - this fic is AMAZING and fulfilling my wildest dreams OHMYHEAVENS)

for those of my friends that absolutely need to read this as well, here’s the link (you guys need to go read it cause WOW *insert all the star eyes here*)

So buckle up and put on your hiking boots…

because here’s more in depth of all the emotions (with their respective quotes) reading this at 11:30 when I should have been asleep to go to work this morning:

There are spoilers under the read more - so if you’re going to read it just be aware. (and my apologies for how all over the place these are, I'm just very excited about sharing my thoughts)

Starting this fic was basically one of the best decisions I have made recently.

"It was a good point. Nathaniel had to give his brother credit. He chose his associates well." Reminds me of their backstories in the books... that's another emotional conversation for another time but DANG I loved this line

"The sight of Nicholas enjoying his company without the influence of artificial happiness surprised Nathaniel. Not only because he was still shocked by his brother’s forgiveness in the face of what he had done to him and his friends, but also because he had assumed for years that Nicky didn’t want him, maybe didn’t even love him. And yet, somehow, despite everything, he did." GAHHH my heartstrings are TuGgEd in all the best ways - it's knowing both sides as just a regular person in general that gets me - Nicholas, just wanting to show his brother that he cares even through everything - and Nathaniel convincing himself that Nicholas didn't want him around and being proved wrong? This is what I live for

*also the YELLOW POLICE BATON - just straight up YES*

*Nathaniel getting up to make breakfast - makes me curious as to what his go-to morning meal is and what everyone's reaction would have been. I really like thinking about this*

"...he hoped that perhaps if he kept his head down, he might be spared having to answer some very uncomfortable questions and delving into a history he’d rather forget." literally have done this myself recently - it's how human Nathaniel seems in this scene (also reference the "unnerving three-headed fish" line which was one of my favorites)

*Nicholas telling his associates that he knows "Nathaniel is sorry and that he loves me, and I don't believe he would do anything else to harm us." RIPS MY HEART OPEN like a can of mandarin oRaNgEs I love that man*

*also Nathaniel's thought process of how extravagant Nicholas and Number Two's kidnapping was, after she threw his suitcase contents everywhere - brings me joy - AND THEN BLAMING THE FAILED ATTEMPTS ON JEFFERS - what a guy*

"...the more he saw how his crimes had affected Nicholas and his friends, the harder it was to think of his actions as anything but malevolent and selfish." and Rhonda coming in clutch with: "He has done bad things, yes, but I also think that Nathaniel Benedict is someone who has been lost and hurt for a long time. Perhaps being in a new environment will do him and Mr. Benedict some good." AND "Maybe Nathaniel Benedict could prove to be an ally.” - I just... yes. Just yes. To all of this.

*Nathaniel's stomach dropping when he hears Milligan's voice both makes me want to laugh and cry. For different reasons.*

*also Nathaniel finding out they're going to ask the children if he could stay - knowing everything he's done to them - and then thinking to himself "they're never going to help me now"*

*Nathaniel thinking to himself about organizing all the books that are scattered everywhere - makes me wonder what Nicholas would think if he found that his books had all been reorganized - because let's be completely honest, Nathaniel would try to find where certain books go and would not find a system to it, and would then take the time to go through all the bookcases and organize them into some orderly system*

"He desperately wanted to tell his brother what was truly bothering him, but he knew that would ruin his chances entirely." - finding things that he wants to be honest and vulnerable about, but doesn't feel like he can because if he reveals himself too soon, he'll be an outcast again - GAH

"provided Nicholas was dealt with" ANNND "A few well-timed jokes later, Nathaniel carefully caught his sleeping brother and placed him gently on the window seat. Then, he tip-toed across the room and picked up the phone" IM SCREAMING - he totally would AND for no reason, his tip-toe in my head looks like the Pink Panther cartoon

*Sticky, taking Nathaniel's actions of reorganizing as a sign that he has redeemable qualities*

*The kids realizing that when Curtain liked them, he was seeing them as himself and when he didn't, viewing them as Nicholas - this was absolutely eye-opening and now when I go back to watch it I'll have to watch with this perspective*

"The merciless punching sensation Nathaniel felt in his gut increased its intensity, and it took everything in him to shove his emotions down." - He's still getting used to being seen and being okay with normal emotions after years of suppressing them - this was really cool

*the part where Reynie said "...a part of him just wanted his brother back. And then when he thought he lost Mr. Benedict, he was more than disappointed, he was desperate, and when he finally got his brother back, he told his men to stand down and helped unfreeze Constance." GOT ME OKAY - right in the feels

*also Constance saying she'll make messes and demand piggy-back rides from Nathaniel brings me so much joy - he would hate every minute of it, but as he realizes later, this will be the easiest of the requests - "a little humility will be good for him." YES CONSTANCE YES and then the whole 'being closer to his head will help Constance read his mind' made me laugh so hard I had to put a pillow over my head as to not wake my family.

*Nicholas being all happy that Nathaniel was waiting for him when he woke up - not trying to escape - and thinking Nathaniel just enjoyed telling him jokes AND NATHANIEL'S "under different circumstances, Nicholas' assumptions would have been true, and Nathaniel wished that they could be in this instance too." my heart

*AND NOW - my favorite part, not at the end of the chapter, but the point I wanted to go most in depth on:*

"Nathaniel trembled as he held the phone. He had, over the course of several decades, come up with several methods of avoiding vulnerability. Compartmentalization was one of the most successful strategies he employed. When he had been confronted at the Institute, Milligan had stood before him as an enemy, and ally to his traitorous brother. Curtain was eager to taunt him, to toy with him, and to brain-sweep him for that reason alone. That was all. The man named Wetherall who had once been his former colleague was a completely separate individual that had no emotional influence over Curtain. None whatsoever.

But it was becoming harder and harder to compartmentalize now, and the heavy lines Nathaniel had drawn between his past and his present, between his genuine love for his brother and his feelings of hurt and resentment towards him, between his need for love and intimacy and his desire for power, control, and revenge, and even the lines deep within himself, the lines he had drawn between Nathaniel Benedict and Ledroptha Curtain began feeling fainter and fainter. As if he was becoming whole. Visible. Vulnerable."

These two paragraphs are my absolute favorite. Nothing has spoken more to my soul in light of recent events in my life than these lines right here - recognizing the past that we as people sometimes compartmentalize to alleviate some of the pain that sometimes still resurfaces - and acknowledging who and what had hurt us while still trying to make amends for our part in it and move forward, while relearning to be vulnerable and be okay with it (and the rollercoaster that follows)

It was absolutely inspiring to see Nathaniel's perspective on this - his perspective of these kids who are seeing him for who he is (*reference Rhonda's quote about him being lost and hurt*) and it was during these two paragraphs that I realized how much I really needed to read this as someone who’s still trying to heal.

So thank you, @nobody33333333 for writing this. I am very much looking forward to reading it all!

#sorry that this post is too long #just had to tell someone how much I appreciate this #literally made my entire week #mysterious benedict society #sos #this brings me so much joy #thank you author - you are an inspiration #nathaniel benedict #the missing mbs season 3 #literally one of my favorite fics #mbs

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oh-its-souichi · 2 years

Text

kissing in cars

Aizawa X Reader

Warning- angst, violence, Im not even going to pretend I can spell.

This is a series, just like the other three fics I posted tonight.

To Aizawa, you were a creeping feeling. The eerie beginning riff in one of those metal songs he heard on the radio, the slow ones with the beginning of a ghoul, soaked with pain and agony. The rough cords that disturbed the peace underneath his skin, his nerves. There was always a soft piano that worked its way into those songs, like the scared, innocent look he sometimes saw in your eyes when someone caught you a little too off.

He had noticed you a year ago on his patrols. You were running from someone or something. His first thought was to intervene to protect you from whatever hunted you, the way you ran was like a rabbit, frantic and hopping. Your chest heaved and your hair swung wildly.

He flexed his leg to move, but you were down a dark alley and out of his sight before he knew it. No comically goofy thugs barrelled after you, popping into the light once you were gone. "Where'd she go" they would drool. He would swoop in to save the day and ya-da, ya-da, ya-da.

He never knew what beast waited for you to this day, stalked towards you with its fangs bared and dripping with viscera, scaring you, making you run like you did. He would see you sometimes, in the ungodly hours of the night, when pretty girls like you should be asleep at home, not stalking the streets. The way you carried yourself bothered him, made him withe uncomfortably inside like his stomach had been filled with snakes and worms sliding all slippery around inside of him. You walked nervously and even though he never saw you check your back he knew you were keenly aware of everything around you. It was evident in the way you attempted to walk confidently but faltered every so often when a sound was a little too loud or someone got a little too close. Even when you didn't run you walked like someone with something to hide, something to run from but he never caught you doing anything wrong. You always walked the same path, down the road and to the right, on Thursdays up the road and to the left. He did not see you on Saturday or Sunday, you were a ghost then.

This week was different though, he hadn't seen you at all, and you had chosen to be a ghost on your off days. He looked for you each night from the hours of 1 a.m. to the time he got off at 4 a.m, your waking hours but you never showed. It was Sunday and he sighed casting a glance at his watch. "3:59" he mumbled swinging himself down from the rooftop he stalked to the street below. His replacement would be taking his place any minute now so he didn't feel too guilty for clocking off a minute early. He was tired, a lot of his mental energy was going towards his student and a lot of his physical energy went to his patrols... and his students... mostly his students. They certainly knew how to wear him out, especially with the League of Villians stepping up their game and interfering with things, he practically stayed up every night with worry, and when he did sleep his dreams were painted with the feeling causing him to wake in a cold sweat. He was too wrapped up in his own head to notice you pacing down the streets toward him. In fact you yourself were also too wrapped up in your own worry to notice when your bodies collided. Your shoulders knocked against his and you felt your one heel slip out from under you causing you to fall back. "oop" Aizawa said quickly grabbing your arm and catching your balance for you. You didn't understand but when he looked at your face his eyes widened a smidge like you were the ghost of someone he hadn't seen in a while. You thought for a second that maybe you were and had finally stumbled across someone who could finally see you.

His face returned back to normal and he scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry about that ma'am' he apologized and you looked him over. He looked like he was tired, not regular people tired but the kind you saw on the old bolts that held the underside together of the bridge across town you frequented. They were rusted, cracking, and looked like they needed a fucking break. He looked like those bolts and you didn't understand why until you saw his hero uniform. things clicked then. "No worries," you said trying to rush the conversation along. You had places to be, things to hide. It wouldn't be optimal if one of your associates saw you chatting up a hero at 4 in the morning. You brushed past him and you felt his eyes lingering on your face again. you hoped he wouldn't notice but from the look on his face, he did. Your back was turned to him when he asked. "What are those from," He asked lowly. You paused in silence debating whether or not to answer but kept walking leaving his question to die on the street along with your interaction.

The bruises on your face were worst looking than the actual injury. You had gotten in an argument with one of the girls you lived with, it was catty shit that turned into a swiping match. It wasn't the first time it happened and it wouldn't be the last. That is the life you lived in a house like that, it didn't bother you.

Aizawa watched you walk away the streetlights lighting up your form against the black night sky. Some buildings had their lights still on but for some reason, it was an oddly dark night. He hadn't noticed it before but maybe this part of town was always this dark. Part of him wanted to chase after you but he decided it best to back off for now. He didn't know your situation and there was no sense in kicking down the door of someone's life when he didn't know what kind of house he was stepping into. He let his eyes linger on you until you were a small blip down the street, then retreated to his bed, resting up for another long day.

...

This wasn't good for you you thought limping down the street. You had your arms wrapped tightly around your abdomen to stop the bleeding that was pouring out of your stomach. A deal had gone bad and you ended up a kabob on the sharp end of some jack offs knife. You were in an unfamiliar section of town and found it useless to be wandering around like a freshman on the first day of High School but figured it best to put as much distance as you could between you and that building, to get as far away from them as you could so you could find some semblance of safety for one. If you survived to find it, that is.

It was a cold night and the yellow street lights were disorienting. You thanked yourself for drinking as much alcohol as you had because if you didn't the gash in your gut would probably be unbearable, the anxiety that would undoubtedly rush your brain was quiet as well so that was another plus. Your small triumphs would come to a crashing halt when you felt your legs go numb and buckle forcing you to submit to the blacktop, your head greeting it with a hearty crack.

You didn't feel much of it though, instead, you smiled and a small laugh left your chapped lips. "What a shit hole of a life" you sang. your vision faded in and out but every so often you would get a glimpse of the gutter you passed out by. There were bits of trash left to blow away or get swallowed by the drain and for some reason, you felt at peace here. It was good to be where you belonged, with the trash and filth of the street. To die with the rats and the long-forgotten dreams of the people who walked the roads of this side of the city. You sucked a painful breath of the cold air in and then let it out with a pained laugh. You tried your best to look around the world for what you assumed would be your last time. Not that it had done you any favors or expressed any profound beauty to you but for some reason, you just wanted to look.

All you could muster up the strength to see was the side of the gutter again though, not the sky or the buildings, not the flickering street lights or the man that came barreling towards you.

Another painful breath left your mouth and your arm relaxed. A deep dark sleep whispered your name and lulled you to her. You accepted her call letting her wrap her warm, invisible, safe, maternal arms around you. 'This isn't so bad you thought before your consciousness faded away and you were consumed in her.

.....

Aizawa watched you sleep in his bed. The night he had found you in the street he rushed you back to UA and woke up Recovery Girl to heal you as best she could. He should have called reinforcements, the police anyone with a certification and a legal standing but he didn't, he gut warned him against it, for the time being. There was something more to the story.

"I've done what I can but her body will have to decide the rest." he heard the memory of Recovery Girls words that night. It had been three nights since then and you barely moved the only thing telling him you were still alive was the heart monitor that was set up beside you. Your fever would sometimes spike and when that happened you would groan painfully in your sleep. He did what he could to make you comfortable but as recovery girl said, it was up to life now to life or die.

...

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha aizawa #my hero academia fanfiction

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