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themaclean · 29 days

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hi i just came from ao3 and firstly, i have read ur vaultghoul fic probably 20 times already it’s just so good with spot on characterization and amazing writing, thank u so much 🙏

secondly, i was reading the comments on it and came across one abt wanting to see a pre-war au where cooper and lucy start an affair and immediately my ears perked up like 👀 all i could imagine is her being cast as his love interest, her being a big fan of his already, and them having a wedding scene where they fuck in her wedding dress after they call cut

n e way so sorry for rambling haha but unfortunately ive got the brainrot now

I MEAN HYPOTHETICALLY -- I'm mobile (and somehow wrote 2k words still wheeze) so I'll finish this when I'm on my PC but I played around with the idea a bit thanks to this ask. :)

...

Summary; Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean, 2077 AU where Lucy and Cooper star in a movie together.

...

There's a whole host of ways that Vault-Tec could have cracked down on Cooper. Given the infringement of their security protocols and the divorce and the way they choked him out of all the good roles...

It wasn't such a far stretch that he'd have to take place in the biggest circle jerk of a film production where his super-fan shoved his daughter into a starring role using Cooper's connections.

Because, so far as the public knew, he was still a supporter of Vault-Tec and he'd do just about anything to sell that delusion.

Cooper crushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, a limp cigarette hung between his teeth.

The girl was a nightmare.

Stiff, picky, absent-minded. No emotion, either, no semblance of self-awareness. It was like some Disney Princess popped out of the cartoons in the worst way, quick to parrot the lines she was meant to say with perfect diction but nothing more than that.

And it was somehow his fucking job to coach the girl -- Lucy -- into a leading lady. The idea was that she was the daughter of the Overseer, played by her actual father, and Cooper was some vault dweller from another section.

The whole thing was convoluted. He did cowboy flicks and the sort that had a showdown at the end. This sci-fi garbage went right over his head, this future projection of the what-if. He didn't have time for the what-if.

He had a daughter he needed to vy for custody of and an expensive divorce on the horizon. And Barb had the best lawyers money could buy and he'd never thought they'd end up like this. There was no pre-nup and nothing to protect him.

And he didn't have a goddamn lighter.

"You shouldn't smoke."

Cooper near growled around the butt of his cigarette, only just keeping himself civil at the last moment. He turned towards Lucy, unable to mistake her for anyone else. There was something about her vacant, pretty face that irked him, those giant goddamn eyes.

"It's bad for you. I read an article about it."

"Maybe you'd be better off reading your lines again," Cooper said with a wave of his hand. He dug in his jacket pocket, the one he'd worn to set.

Bingo.

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned against the vault railing. It was strange to do the filming down, a hundred feet or so beneath the surface, but it made for impressive sets. They were around the corner from the rest of the camera crew and cast.

And they were alone for the first time since shooting. Most times, Cooper had a few stage hands or interns at his heel. And he didn't see Lucy around much, except for scenes. Didn't chase her down, didn't much think of her.

Except now he's aware she's still in the wedding dress she'd been in earlier. Stage blood soaked the stomach of it, thick streams of blood from where she'd been stabbed. But he'd saved her and they'd shared a chaste kiss for the camera.

And then he hadn't seen her.

"I thought you'd be a better kisser."

Cooper didn't withhold the glare, couldn't bring himself to give a fuck. "Pardon?"

"Just -- the kiss. Didn't really..." Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "I grew up watching your movies. My dad is a big fan. I always figured you'd be a good kisser, but you aren't."

"You ain't much yourself, either," Cooper said with a raised brow. "Like a fish, sweetheart. Cold."

"I'm not a fish," she snapped back. "That's very mean. I -- I know I was mean first but I just thought you could do better."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh to himself at this miserable brat who'd sought him out to complain about an on-screen kiss. He took a long drag, his gaze slanted across the backs of his knuckles.

"You're here 'cause your daddy yanked some strings," Cooper shrugged a shoulder. "My only obligation is to make a movie for the studio. I'm not your damn boyfriend-for-hire, trying to get you off for the cameras."

Cooper was a professional and on his best behaviour -- usually. But the long days of filming for a corporation rooted in the exploitation of the country he'd fought for... That patience wore thinner with each moment he was alone with this brat.

"I'm here as an actress -- "

"You can act?" Cooper asked, mock surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lucy had the gall to look offended.

Cooper took another drag, his hip notched against the railing. "It's a movie, darling. I've been doing this shit for years. They ain't gonna let people tongue each other to high hell."

"That..."

"That is exactly how it works," Cooper said as he ashed his cigarette onto the grate beneath his feet. "It's not about you, it's about the shot."

Lucy looked at him like he'd slapped her. "I know it's about the shot."

"Could've fooled me." Cooper huffed out a breath. He'd kissed plenty of women for his films and he was a consummate professional. If the audience bought into it, that was all he needed. He didn't give a damn if his co-star got butterflies over it.

Especially not the daughter of some jackass at Vault-Tec, for a project that was nothing more than an empty propaganda piece. But he didn't have much choice.

"I'm here because it's important to my father. Vault-Tec wanted to keep as many roles as they could within the company -- "

"Nepotism."

"To promote the culture they want within the movie, which is carefully curated -- "

"Cultish."

"To their... Could you stop doing that?"

Cooper crossed his arms, his cigarette nearly finished. The vault had good enough ventilation that the smoke disappeared but the smell lingered. He pushed away from the railing, his expensive smile slack across his lips.

"I had my fill of the Vault-Tec propaganda, sweetheart. Don't make a difference if it's from a pamphlet or a pretty girl, I'm just doing what I'm being paid to."

"Wasn't it your wife -- ex-wife -- who brought you in originally?"

Cooper's neck twitched as he looked down at Lucy, as she smart-mouthed her way right into some shit she didn't know anything about. He tipped his head to the side, the annoying collar of the vault suit biting into his jawline.

"So you believed what Vault-Tec thought originally." Lucy toyed with the stain on her white dress, her fingers tugged at the frayed edge. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy met his eye, her head tilted to contrast the angle of his head. She settled a hand on the railing, uncertainty replaced her uppity edge from before. "I'm not trying to spy on you or get information. You just -- had your life together, and then you're getting divorced."

"It happens," Cooper said, aware now that she was between him and the crew. The vault split into spidery webs in all directions, though. He could leave her if he wanted. But then he'd end up who knows where, deep in the belly of this steel nest.

But they were alone, and she'd inched closer to him.

Cooper saw the leading ladies he worked with as colleagues. Sometimes they'd have to kiss or imitate gentle moments or intimacy -- but for the most part, he could compartmentalise it. But Lucy didn't act. She couldn't. She was an atrocious leading lady and she read everything as if she were saying it herself.

Like a porn actress, saying shit to get through to the action, rushing through the writing like it didn't matter.

It wasn't her fault. He had the sneaking suspicious she had no interest in acting or in this movie; that she was only doing it because her father asked her to do it. Maybe even so she could have an excuse to meet him, he realized dimly as she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes.

That separation -- of leading lady and of a romantic partner -- muddled with her. Because he didn't even like her. He didn't want to get to know her. He hated her father and he wanted nothing to do with this company.

And she was closer to him than not, and they'd kissed a handful of times, and she'd said he sucked at it.

Cooper rolled his jaw as Lucy didn't have the guts to do more than she had. Her moony eyes fixed up at him like a challenge. And then he felt his resolve snap because it wasn't like he had much to lose. This wasn't a real acting gig and she wasn't a real leading lady.

His hand snapped out, fingers and thumb dug into her cheek. He brought her close, to see what she'd do. The answer was -- not much. She didn't shout or push him away, their mouths inches apart as he hovered close to her, examining her beneath his lashes.

"Bad kisser -- that what you said?"

Lucy swallowed hard enough to nudge his hand. "Well, you were. I'm not going to lie to you to spare your ego."

Cooper made a soft sound from the back of his throat as he kissed her. The distant crack and shift of the crew as they moved their cameras from one vault room to another should be a deterent but Cooper doesn't care.

He's single, isn't he. Has been for a few months. He'd not acted on it, hadn't felt the urge to, but he's as trapped as ever in the shadow of what Barb had done to him. It's only fair he make use of that shadow to indulge, even if it's just to prove a point to this girl Lucy.

There's some inherent amusement to how she melted into the kiss. She wanted it far more than she'd let on, that soft mewing, moaning neediness as he stroked her long brown hair out of her face. He threaded his fingers softly through her hair, hand on either side of her face, fingers combing through her hair.

Her back was arched over the railing as he gave her the kiss she'd probably expected earlier, the one he wasn't about to throw out on camera. There's standards for cinema and he didn't want to waste film or time.

But then her fingers were on the zipper of the stupid fucking vault suit. He didn't stop her, even as she yanked it down and slipped her hand along his stomach.

If anything, he pushed harder against her. The fluffy white skirt of her wedding dress made it hard to get much for himself. But with a yank of her knee and the shift of her weight, he had her seated on the railing. Her shoulder caught one of the metal frames, to keep her pinned in place.

If this were any other job or any other actress, he'd give a fuck.

But it's Vault-Tec, through and through.

#anonymous #my writing #vaultghoul #answered

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tricitymonsters · 12 days

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How would the ros react if someone told mc who had already low self-esteem that they were fat in front of them.

AH it's gonna be hard to separate myself the writer from this particular answer lol

Fat isn't a bad, disgusting, negative word. It's just another humble adjective. People can be fat AND beautiful AND healthy just like people who are skinny can be ugly and unhealthy. It's really hard and unfair that fat's been conflated with a bunch of awful signifiers- including morality- and that's just bullshit. SO with that being said/the context of how i created and developed these characters.

I don't think any of them would give you the "oooh you're not fat" because 1) its a bit simpery and 2) so what if you're fat.

All the ROs are into fat people, Akello and Kazu are probably leading in preference there (especially Akello), though I don't think Mori and Raath are far behind.

Amir loves Big Boys and Tall often comes with Fat and he doesn't treat that as anything other than a bonus. (Also don't let him lie to you he has the slightest of feeder kinks and a little extra weight would just delight him). ALSO expect him to whip out his phone and show you examples of fat celebrities/athletes he thinks are crazy beautiful.

Marcel is a manslut and his preferences aren't super strong but he will loudly talk about how much he loves fupa, jiggly asses, and big-ass thighs.

SPEAKING of Marcel, he's also fairly highly inclined to manage his health pretty carefully- a lot like Kazu- and if I'm being honest with you, you being fat wouldn't get them grossed out or judgemental either. Kazu's really good about regimented training and if it helped he'd probably be able to get you started on a good weights or cardio schedule to build strength and UNLIKE Marcel, Kazu can meal plan too if your health's got you feeling anxious and insecure. Marcel's got like... sheepherder dog energy and he loves working out with a buddy. He gets bored fast though and will probably want to take you to a rock gym or wave pool to get some variation in activity going.

Not into working out? That's ALSO cool because Akello and Mori are definitely chiller about calories get burned and more into how to enjoy the calories you DO eat. (Though, Mori's kinda suspect when he's snorting Takis dust and chasing it with Monster so idk man)

Raath would be excited that you have more Blood in you

Mori doesn't care he just wants to slap your ass and/or tits (gnc) as much as humanly possible and scent you like a stinky garbage cat. Also hands down he's the worst person to talk about long term health with so i don't recommend that.

NOT THE MOST ORGANIZED RESPONSE IN THE WORLD but i want to be clear that all bodies are worthy of respect and love and even if all I am is a silly porn writer I feel very strongly that fat bodies deserve to be seen as sexy just the way they are without it being sidelined as some kind of Unwholesome and Kooky Fetish. To that end all my characters would what you to find your confidence cause they sure think ur fuckin hot.

#WOW SORRY I HAD A LOT TO SAY #thank you for asking #amir #mori #akello #raath #kazu #marcel #(⸝⸝⸝╸w╺⸝⸝⸝)

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kidflashimpulse · 1 year

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YJ Dark Crisis out here acting like Bart and Kon don't have a ton of similarities that made them gravitate toward each other. like they didn't hang out on their own. like they didn't worry for and care about each other a LOT. like Kon didn't have a whole issue in his solo basically ABOUT how much Bart being in a coma that one time was messing him up. like everything in YJ 2019 didn't happen. fuck all that Kon only cares about TIM (and imo if they're setting up t/mkon with this? it sucks lol)

RIGHT?!!! it’s absolutely I N S A N E to me how we went from 2019 to this… like genuinely, the whiplash is crazy

and YES, degrading characterisation/using shtty tropes as a setup for a ship, done in a way with zero substance nor respect for any of the characters is such a joke. I’ve read ppl call yj dark crisis as basically bad fanfic, but honestly, atleast fanfic is allowed to take creative liberty of literally doing whatever to write a bunch of stuff for free for anyone to read. Being a comic writer and being able to PUBLISH and get paid, only to write a garbage plot, delivering “points” in the worst and most ignorant way possible disrespecting characters and what they stand for as if ur source material was reading about them from the back of a can, it’s just such a bad joke. If u ask me yj dark crisis never happened lmfao. The way cassie and cissie were written also feels like unintentional satire. a mess. lol sorry for this unwarranted rant but basically

yes to everything anon lol

#YJ asks #young justice dark crisis #bart allen #kon el #conner kent #cassie sandsmark #cissie king jones

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prettybbychim · 3 months

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i have no one to scream about this to so here u go for ur casual perusal

personal shit below idk check the tags ig

makes more sense with context but i’m just here to scream not inform the masses on a bullshit cult

last year was the first time my brother celebrated his birthday. we got a cake from the grocery store bakery and he was so pleased

he wants to do the same this year and he’s turning 21 tomorrow and he has plans to do a long birthday stream w his friends so we’re getting the cake tonight. i was trying my dad about it like while we’re at the store do u need us to grab anything else, and his fucking response is to first laugh like we’re silly little stupid kids doing a silly little stupid thing

then he says, make sure none of the witnesses spot you

and i straight up said Who Fucking Cares

they can mind their own goddamn business. we don’t owe them shit. they can gossip all they fucking want i don’t give a shit and i’m so tired of this garbage that i’ll say this straight to their face. i don’t fucking care.

neither of us have had anything to do w that cult in like 5 years now and we have no plan to ever return. my dad hasn’t been active in a couple years either! he has a “worldly” gf that he fucks every weekend, fucking hypocrite

worry about your own fucking appearances but don’t drag us back into it. if they have an issue with us buying a nondescript cake, i ask: why do you care? what benefit is this to you? why are you snooping on our purchases anyway? why are you jumping to conclusions and assuming “the worst”? how does this have anything to do with you?

the most loving people on earth my ass

#*clears throat*#my apologies #those people fucked me up in ways i may never recover from #so fuck them and fuck their gossip under the guise of loving concern #ex jehovah's witness #ex jw #looking at the name itself makes me sick ain’t that lovely #religious trauma #ptsd #childhood ptsd #complex ptsd #you know i can’t even wish my brother happy birthday without feeling nauseous #fuck them #rant

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lesbianoctoling · 1 year

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🖊 🖊 thatcher and angel?

Meme

Thatcher -

The daughter of Toni Kensa and an Octoling. It's hard to tell that he's part inkling at first glance, but his ears give him away. He grew up not knowing who his father was and was raised as a soldier, but after discovering the secret through a magazine (without much proof, though) he came to the surface to become a nuisance and try to take over his father's company.

Thatcher is such a fun character for his premise alone. I want to write a short story about him one day. He actually hardly has any solid evidence of his heritage when he first comes to the surface other than 'we look alike and you vaguely mentioned your previous love life in a magazine interview once', but his father's reaction to him when they meet is enough. There's big daddy issues here.

He loves the surface though, and company aside Thatcher wants to become a fashion designer or something eventually. He also bothers Ava like, a lot. Ava and Callie were the ones to help him in the first place!

Thatcher's mom also kind of hates Toni Kensa too. I want to write Toni Kensa as an epic divorce man. I should honestly think about it all more one day, but it's really a story for another day.

Angel -

oh my god angel i can go on about her for literal hours and hours and hours . After I got a bit stuck writing WPW i kind of ended up focusing on her and her story. My poor little meow meow. My absolute garbage of a woman. I have a ton of human art of her too, because her human counterpart is similar but a little more grim and in a sci-fi universe. If I were to ever take my ocs out of Splatoon she's where I'd start with a unique universe, but I'm happy with her having two versions.

Trying to figure out what to say about her without spoiling story stuff I also want to share on day is a little hard - though a lot can be pieced together through some art too tbh.

Her morals are awful but she doesn't think so. Angel is an unreliable narrator, and why I want to write about her so bad one day. She's awful, but in a way where I can't really say where she stands on 'worst to least worse' of my villain ocs. She's willing to kill anyone in her way under the guise of making her world (The Deepsea Metro City) better, but she'd never ever hurt a child. She's consumed by this, but she thinks she's in the right. She hates the Telephone so much. So much.

But her plans for revenge take years. She's around 25 when her villain arc starts, and 37 during Octo Expansion (I think 42 at the start of Splatoon3). She's a chemist with the odd job of stealing memories and making mem cakes out of them. I haven't figured out how this makes sense yet, I have to research it, so this could change in the future. But her stealing memories is pretty important - about every test subject in Kamabo has gone through her for it.

Tartar has tried to sanitize her a few times but her body's tetrodotoxin combats it. He gave up and gave her her current job instead. She's experimented on herself with sanitization before, though, over the years - to try and see if it was possible to sanitize an octoling and keep their free will. This resulted in the scarring on half her body and sanitized eye. Sara was eventually the first successful attempt at this. i don't have a smart in universe scientific explanation for all of this but I want to do my research eventually to make sense of it. If ur a scientist and this doesn't make sense I am so sorry.

Post story is weird. She isn't forgiven for most of the damage she's done and I think it's important to point that out. I hesitate to say she gets 'redeemed'. I was actually originally going to kill her off, because I didn't know what to do with a villain like her without somehow saying her actions were ok. I decided not to, though, because not only had I become really attached to her, but it also felt extremely cruel - she's evil, sure, but she's also very very traumatized and a pretty sad woman. She can live, but has to forever live with the guilt of what she's done.

Oh and some of the people she's killed still want revenge on her years later so she has to deal with quite a few metaphorical bounties on her head.

i like to joke about it sometimes though because i am guilty of making her a little silly....

She has two girlfriends by Splat 3 (post story), Idunn who belongs to @herosplatling-replica and Rivera who belongs to @inkbwush . They're all a fucking mess and their family gets big and complicated because polyamory and found family does dat.

#mail.doc #darkfire1177 #i can go on and on about angel for literal hours. i have so much to her. hep.#Thatcher #Angel #Within Palace Walls #Minds Eye

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orchres · 1 year

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2, 19, 23 ♥️

Hii Deah! Ramadhan mubarak btw! I hope your fast is getting easier!

2: thoughts on veganism?

Boring reactionary movement for WASPs and those who want to be WASPs that has accomplished nothing and treats all issues with food production, processing and supply chain as theough they were lifestyle choices and not the symptoms of capitalism and colonialism they are. Theres nothing inherently wrong w eating meat or wearing leather or fur unless ur the kind of asshole who prefers to use thinking shortcuts n moralize them instead of thinking critically about the world you live in. I dont respect them or value anything the have to say. I personally believe in food sovreignity, indigenous led food movements and respect for all living things. We are an integral part of the biosphere and we should act like it instead of all this boring ass mathusian "we are the virus shit". Also plants also have complex social lives and their own form of "emotion" and sentience and yet nobody is crying about how evil it is to practice monocultures. I'm a bit passionate about this because I come from a historically food insecure region of the world thats currently on the brink of famine and im sick of colonizers telling us what to do about it when they make our governments criminalize the sharing of indigenous seeds so that Monsanto and all these other corporations can trap framers in lifelong debt and feed us garbage. Anywayyy this is getting ranty let me stop

19: the veggie you dislike the most

cauliflower. not easy to prepare properly and gives you thee worst gas

23: do you wear jewelry

yes! my gold mini hoops n chain are an outfit staple. Sometimes i'll wear rings but I find it uncomfortable. I dont like bangles bc I hate calling attention to my wrists. I have....issues with my wrists.

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tc-stickerz · 10 months

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Dear Amberlynne.

Amber. Misstall even. "Monarch" of her own life lolol. Bet ure surprised to see this aren't you? After all I put it really out of the way. There is a method yknow? I need a way to send a letter. But i don't want you to see it. I need you to have even the smallest chance of seeing it eventually. For my heart to have enough hope to manage. But i can't actually send it to you. The small amount of dignity I've scrounged together these last few years couldn't take it. So this is the solution I've come up with. You won't ever read this thank goodness. But the chance is literally greater then 0. So here we are lol

Another reason I don't want to send this to you is because I lied to you in my last message. At the time I was telling the truth mind you. But as you know, I can fall to arrogance on occasion. Even now. The majority of it is still true. But doesn't work that way. Resolving to do better and be better is good and all. But some days you have to acknowledge that it's going to be worse too. If that makes sense. That's what encouraged me to write this. I had a bad day

I used to write these alot more in the past. But not to you. Sometimes the feelings get to much and I need the outlet and I would write to a loved one that I miss the most. It was once islandmai. But once his email account started sending errors I stopped. I'm not sure if he is alive. If he blocked me. If his account is deleted. I admit I love the idea of him more then the memory. Because there isn't much of it left. That was 18 years ago when I fucked that one up.

Then I wrote them to Sam for a short while. But I remember even left. My poor grape. I can't remember if you are a figment of my imagination or not. But ive grown to love the image of you in my head regardless.

Then the whole Dave thing happened. I wrote him for a while. Up until I got news that he had killed himself. I'm going to be writing him a letter eventually. For all times sake. For the feelings that need out. But for now I hope you can read this in hell. And know that even now I can't stop loving you either. You utter piece of garbage.

And then I stopped. Kinda. I pursued different outlets. Went to therapy. I started having my own support structure. It was built on lies. And hatred. And most of all envy. But it was the path I chose. And I deserve the consequences. I don't argue that amber. But today was a bad day. And more then anyone else, I missed you. So I wrote you a letter. I hope you blocked my emails. But im not sending this one directly to you regardless. So it doesnt matter.

Remember when I promised to be there when dog died. I think about it sometimes. I wasn't there because you wouldn't have let me. But it was my fault for ending up in that situation anyways. I wish I was there for you at that time. And all the other times you needed support but I wasn't. Whether it was due to envy. Or hatred. Or cowardice. I wasn't there. And even worse, I was sometimes the person you needed support to deal with yourself. Instead of being the support for more important things.

Do you remember the abuse I handed down on you? Thankfully never physical or sexual abuse. But the emotional abuse is sometimes the worst of it all. And you put up with it from me. For years. Long enough to make me depend on it atleast. Why was I so angry? So hateful? I know the answer now. Through alot of reflection and therapy. But I doubt you care. Regardless of the reasons, they aren't valid excuses.

I'm not sure if you were aware. That week I stayed there with you. Inflicting my presence on you in person for a while. Neglecting you in person for a while. To change up the pace I guess. One morning your father pulled me to the side. And he said something to the effect of "I know you've been sneaking into my daughter's room at night. Don't lie to me. I'm not going to do anything about it yet. But stop" now this terrified me. And even more, I felt guilt. Because the truth of the matter is, I didn't once sneak in your room at night. Should I have? Even as teenagers I knew I was sexually neglecting you. Mostly because we weren't compatible in that context. I was to hateful and unstable to be attracted to you romantically. I still tried regardless. But it wasn't until that confrontation with your father came to pass that I saw it. And then I still pretended after that anyways. For a few different reasons. But again, reasons. Not excuses. They don't fucking matter. I think your father assumed and accused me. But I was to far out of his context I think. That makes sense right? Lol

I loved you. I love you still. Platonically. Not in a romantic sense. You were my best friend. Through some of my roughest times. We pivoted it into something romantic. But we were stupid unaware teenagers. Lessons learned right? You were my support for some of the roughest parts of my life. And I betrayed that. Did you feel guilty when you heard I attempted suicide? I genuinely don't remember the order of events of that Era that well. But I hope you didn't even hear about it. I hope you grew to hate me for the lesser stuff. I accept that I probably traumatized you with that if you did hear about it. Who knows how you feel about it now but I figured I would atleast say that it wasn't your fault. You weren't even the largest factor. I had been pretending to go to college for a while. I got away with one semester. But at the end of the second semester that was coming up I had completely skipped every class. And every assignment. Every quiz, test, homework assignment. Etc. The grades were going to be released soon. And I had hard labor that I was obligated to do the next morning. And I was to depressed. So I swallowed all the pills. And my fat ass survived as you can see. Genuinely, you were a contributing factor. But even if your support was there instead of gone, the result was probably going to be the same.

I resented you at first. The arrogance was still manifesting. I hate that past me so much. You weren't the only relationship I threw away. Amber is a name in a long list of others. People I've betrayed. Neglected. Abused. Till they turned away from me. All my fault of course. And it isn't until many years later that I could see the burnt bridges behind for miles and miles. Some worse then others. Yours being amongst the worst atrocities I committed. Maybe not morally. But it was one of the worst crimes I committed against myself. I've desperately missed you and your company for years now. Amongst others. I don't think you could compare to the memory of island. Or the trauma of David. But you are the most real. Because your still actually alive. I could message your grandparents, or your father, or even you right now.

But you made it clear. You want me to fuck off. And genuinely, good on you. It hurts. A whole lot. But you don't deserve my bullshit to be inflicted on you again. The strength required is enormous. But I do have enough dignity to not stalk you on the internet. And fall deeper into my own feelings on the matter. Which brings us to today.

You won't believe who I met today. You remember Matt? I'm actually still friends with the guy. And I was traveling to Atlanta to see a concert lol. And I had the opportunity to meet the guy irl for the first time. Weve been friends since 2008 lol! It was a cool opportunity. We sat around and chatted. Family to family. I got to handle his pet snakes. So adorable. And then we went to the concert. Carr (I'm a new fan). Royal the serpent (was kinda meh but I really appreciated her song about inclusion). Bring me the horizon (was the reason I wanted to go and was absolutely amazing to see). And fallout boy (the performance was amazing but I liked their music less the more I hear it. And I've heard them alot).

Now the concert was was in the plans for months. We got tickets as soon as I heard about. I went with mom, falon, and falons boyfriend. We were first going to take some psychedelics. Some shrooms to enjoy the experience. But we decided a couple of weeks ago that we were going to experiment with X instead. Ecstacy. Basically my first "hardcore" drug. I was looking forward to it. The other 3 reacted fine. Had fun. I had a bad reaction. And it caused me to backtrack for a while. Not terribly mind you. I maintained. But ill describe what I felt.

It started cool. The colors and sounds was a bit intense and I was enjoying that. Soon I was really enjoying breathing for a while. Idk why. Drugs are like that. Then it felt like I mentally regressed back to those years. Where I was playing pretend with you. Me before the therapy. And the medication management. And years of positive changes and adulthood. I was 18 again before I made any of the progress i made this last decade. I was dragged back to my youth in the worst way possible. I was hyper aware of anything and everything that triggered bad shit in me. Usually im fine. I internalize it and take it with me to therapy later that week. It was to intense this time. My coping skills were stripped away. And there was so much around me that triggered this evil shit in me again.

If I was still christian, I would think im the manifestation of envy on this planet. I look around and I can only see things I want. Aspects of people I am desperate for myself. Because I could never be happy with just myself. Everyone else always had it better. I outgrew alot of that with age. Making it to nearly 30 teaches you some things. Just because that's how time and consciousness works. (Sorry I'm still a little high. And very tired. I doubt any of this is coherent. And fuck proofreading) but at this moment when I looked around me and saw all the things I could want but never have. Everywhere. Times 100. The heartache returned. I could wax poetic for a while about the nature and feeling of heartache but I suspect it's either something you have felt before or haven't.

I couldn't talk. If I did I would sob. And ruining my families time was the last thing I wanted. They were already worried. But luckily they didn't understand the depth of the issues I was dealing with. But I maintained. I'm good at locking down like that. I can freeze with the best. Not show anything on my face. And just be quiet. Suffering quietly is a specialty of mine. Painstakingly earned. But another skill I learned more recently is to acknowledge when you need help and have a support structure in place if needed. My go to being my best friend (my mom and sister) were out of bounds. I couldn't talk at the time. And it was to important to not ruin their night. This crippling pain was temporary. My support system came to the rescue. Brittany distracted me with tales of her new mop. Naomi assured me of my validity and reminded me of my humanity. Matt assured me I wasn't alone. And trey stuck with me for a while and let me incoherently rant via text about how broken I was. The mvp. More then any of them tho I missed you Amber.

This crippling moment of weakness brought about by reckless drug experimentation and being in an environment with nothing but triggers. The friends I still have. The ones I managed to save from myself lol. They kept me grounded. And I recovered. Tired. Inspired. Self hatred at the highest its been in years. I wanted nothing more but for you to be supporting me again with them. I didn't deserve it at all. But its what I wanted. And so im here writing my first letter in many years. I hope you find it. And come back into my life. In this moment of weakness, its my greatest wish. And its not even one that I have the strength to voice. A display of how weak I am. I've always been. I'll be better in the morning. Emotionally. It'll be a new day. And I'll continue my march. As I'm forced to. I'll still hope for you. Just enough to protect myself. But thank goodness, realistically, you will be spared of my bullshit. Because how would you find this?

Remember when I mocked you for the control scheme you used in wow? I thought myself superior because I was an elite pvm player. Raiding nights with other friends never compared to the times you and I just chatted. I know why I acted like that. Therapy and self reflection. I know myself. But it doesn't matter anymore. Reasons can't be excuses in this context.

Remember how I mocked you for your music taste? I wish I had gotten to know it better. I listen to alot of different things these days. Alot of genres. But mostly still emo like I did back then. I wish I had the opportunity to discuss these things with you now. A friendly chat where we debate the pros and cons of our mutual playlists. I want to see what you listen to now so that I can learn more about you.

Remember how I mocked you for liking Shakespeare? I still don't like his stories. But I can't say I'm actually that familiar with him anyways. But why would a difference in opinion so minor lead to me mocking you? Why was I so angry and arrogant? I know those things about myself now. More then anything I wish we were close enough that you could ask me about it. And you genuinely cared. And we could talk about it. Discussions on psychology and philosophy. But that was a timeline carelessly dashed by a very unstable brat. The worst person on the planet. For me atleast. And I sincerely hope that I wasn't a large enough figure in your life for you to feel the same. Even if I deserve it.

Remember when we were in bed together that one night? In the hotel room? You put my arm around you. A clear invitation to cuddle. Which I was never good at during that period of time. In retrospect, you were obviously insecure. As was I. At the time tho, it was a bright enough message for me to even understand. I just valued my comfort over your ego. I knew there was nothing sexual about it. Human contact was something you craved. And was reasonably expected at that stage in our relationship. I still turned away. Why? If you read this far, you will know how ill respond to that.

One time during a Skype call we were discussing why I didn't make more of an effort to sexually pursue you. I don't remember alot of the conversation. I remember being severely annoyed at it. I pretended it was ignorance and insecurities that stopped me. Because even if it was ignorance and insecurity, it was of a completely different nature then you would think. Or maybe you would. You were always smart. But I doubt you would have guessed. I asked for you to take your clothes off on camera for me. It was something neither of us wanted but both of us assumed we were supposed to at that point. But im glad you had the maturity to say no. I was a good actor during those days. Just not good at playing the very long con. I lost my silver tongue since tho. Apathy gets in the way. Something I struggle with regularly. I only used it as a weapon for harm tho. So good riddance.

I bet if we walked past each other in public, we wouldn't recognize each other. It's been a decade after all. Hard to imagine. Atleast for me. A decade. And I still am capable of loving you so deeply. I know I look massively different these days though. I've left hints in the story above. But I doubt it's even comprehensible. I've worked on summing up my experiences to a short tldr: trans child (due to nature or nurture who knows? But both definitely contribute) struggles with growing up in a southern baptist community and a string of abusive masculine figures. Resorting to anger and privilege I actively worked to harm other peoples egos. Alot of it was motivated by envy. I knew that part. It wasn't until 25 when I started accepting those aspects of myself that I would even hear about things like gender dysphoria. Or that sexuality could be something more then straight, gay, or bi. And that all of it is valid despite the religious indoctrination I was raised in.

I did alot of evil shit. Some of it to you. Amber. And I regret it. Even more, I actively resent that portion of my life. And I miss you. Alot. And tbh that probably isn't even you now. It's the you of 2010. The you preserved in my memories. But the idea of you is still so fucking beautiful and tragic.

Do you remember the day you messaged me? Randomly? I was flying over deepwind gorge. I had no clue at the time that we would have such a tragic adventure together. I was in the air over deepwind gorge on the day we met. I was in the air flying to the timeless isle when you broke up with me. So many years apart.

Fml I hope you are doing well. You sounded resentful when you told me to fuck off in that email. I sincerely hope that it was aimed at me. I hope life has been kind to you. I hope you made it this far without being as broken and jaded as me. I hope you have a new dog that you love a whole lot and I hope they love you too. I hope your scary father and you still get along. I hope you still listen to old 70s music. And still play spore on occasion. Or other rpgs. I hope you are happy the majority of the time. I hope you found someone and you fell in love if thats what you want. I hope you are successful in your career. I hope you haven't experienced any pain since we talked last. I hope I get to talk to you again one day. I hope you will never have to deal with the bullshit or the memories I inflicted on you ever again. I hope that I was a much smaller part of your life then you ended up being in mine. I hope you read this and get in touch. I hope you never read this and it all stops here. I hope this monster of a letter is an incomprehensible mess to anyone who tries to read it. A drugged up speech on trauma and human nature that no one gets. I hope someone reads it and gets some sort of value from it, the distorted ramblings of an occasionally broken human.

Maybe ill write again to you here. But I hope the cracks don't grow enough for me want to. Regardless what the future holds though:

Love,

Stickerz

#transgender #platonic #love #resentment #depressing shit #envy #ramblings #incomprehensible #hope #regret

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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every time i hear abt my irl friends relationships, the happier i am that i get my serotonin from a gacha addiction and not from relying on someone else who acts like they don’t give a single shit about you

#negative tags incoming #AHFHAHDHAHAJB??? some shit got me fucked up man #people put up with the absolute worst #have some respect for urself and leave if the person treats u like ur dogwater #they’ll be like ‘he’s so nice and respectful!’ then he cancels on their date 10 minutes before it happens because he ‘forgot’#and their s/os that they always insist on defending are always ugly af too #like babe ur too hot to let someone like that treat u that way...#love urself please i’m begging #also to anyone reading this i will 100% break up with ur s/o for you if they treat u like garbage #axia screams into the void #local lesbian gets mad at straight men #sorry idk how u can let ur s/o get all dressed up for a date then flake on them last minute? asshole behavior #if ur gonna be an asshole at least make it fun drama to share #like damn most of my exes did some batshit crazy stuff that’s fun to tell people about but like #although i do have a few who are cool and our breakup story is just ‘yea we’re better as friends!’ type of thing #‘he didn’t show up to dates’ is boring AND it shows what a garbage person u are without a fun party story :/#‘axia why are u always single or in short term relationships’ I DO NOT HAVE THE PATIENCE FOR PEOPLE WHO TREAT ME LIKE GARBAGE????#‘i have a friend i can set u up with’ after seeing ur choice in men no thanks !!! lol

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millenniummmbop · 2 years

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any art tips for a beginner who like literally j u s t started trying to teach themselves how to draw?

- Always keep a sketchbook and draw from observation. Don't worry about trying to make every page and every drawing a mini masterpiece. Sketchbooks are for thinking and figuring stuff out especially when you're just starting out. You're first sketches/pages will always be the worst because your hand and your mind are still loosening up but the more you keep at it the better they will become.

- You don't have to just do studies and still lifes all the time u can draw a bunch of anime and cartoons and shitty little mindless scribbles. Who's gonna stop you? Your mom? The president? Literally just draw whatever you want. As a beginner one of the most important things is to get yourself in the habit of drawing as much as possible because mileage is how you improve. Later on your own natural curiosity will push you towards more specific areas of study but for now just try to develop the habit and mindset of being Someone Who Draws TM. Just draw! Draw draw draw!!!

- Comparison will kill you but it's also just human nature so try not to let it get u down too hard. If you find yourself dwelling too much on the emotional aspect of this try to turn it into a learning situation. What is it about this piece/artist that makes me feel inferior? What specifically do I admire about this? Try to think about the steps it took to create this work of art and then copy it. Stroke for stroke. Really look at, deconstruct it, shatter it into a million little pieces and then try to tape those pieces back together again as best u can. Use pipe cleaners and glitter glue if u have to. There's nothing wrong with copying a picture this is literally how u study technique. Masters studies are important!

- This one is specifically a new age online artist thing but don't worry about style. Your own personal style is something that develops over time and often times u won't even notice it I promise. It's just like handwriting. You should really only worry about style once u move past the beginning/fundamentals stage and start learning about design. Seriously tho don't overthink it. Remember that you have to know the rules before you can break them.

- There WILL be days where u feel like every single thing u draw is absolute shit-tier garbage and should burn in hell for all eternity and I'm sorry to say but that just comes with the territory of being an artist. But fear not! This is usually the result of ur eyes/mind developing faster than ur hand can keep up with. When this happens try focusing on doing studies and exercises. I PROMISE you it will pass and you WILL come out the other end of it a fundamentally better artist. 100% every time. Do not let it get you down. DO NOT LET IT WIN!!!

- On the flip side of that there will be days where everything u draw is 🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯😜😜😜😍😍😍👌👌👌😎😎😎👑👑👑 and u should 100% EMBRACE THE FUCK OUT OF THAT FEELING!!! ALWAYS TAKE PRIDE IN UR ACCOMPLISHMENTS!!! YOU HAVE MADE IT SO FAR!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO!!!!! 👏👏👏*airhorn sounds* (But seriously tho this is a GREAT thing and u should never let anyone try to take that from u. People trying to tear u down usually comes from a place of their own insecurities but always remember that that is NOT ur problem lmfao.)

- This next point is from the "things I desperately wish I could tell my past self" category so feel free to ignore this if u really want but please please please no matter how far u get into ur artistic journey DO NOT throw away/delete ur old stuff because u feel ashamed of it. You will 100% regret doing this EVERY SINGLE TIME. Maybe not immediately and maybe not even for a few years. But trust me. Not having ur old stuff to look back on FUCKING SUCKS and is a very cruel thing to do to urself. U don't have to keep it up online for others to see but do not deny urself the pride that comes with acknowledging how far you've come. PLEASE. For my sake 😔

- Just have fun honestly. If you don't enjoy art why do it? Spite? Actually spite is kind of a funny reason but u should still enjoy art nonetheless lmao. Go at ur own pace and don't be so hard on yourself all the time. Art is not a destination it's a journey and if you're not enjoying the journey why are u still on the bus? Oh god u missed ur stop oh god oh fuck u gotta keep riding this thing forever PSYCHE!!! U can always get off at the next stop! There is zero pressure to keep riding if u decide u don't particularly care for this avenue lmao.

#asks #bakura-of-the-day #long post #sorry for the essay #i promise u will never see me write anything this long ever again #These aren't really 'art tips' so much as they are 'ARTIST tips' bc really the worst part of learning ANY new skill is keeping at it #and not getting discouraged #there are a million different books and tutorials out there that can u teach u specific skills and techniques better than i ever could #so really all i can offer u is insight and some of my own personal anecdotes #hope this helps

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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

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Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

#bnha mermay #mermaid au #siren!shinsou #mermaid!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #trident tale

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junkyarddook · 2 years

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How has this news not ruined your enjoyment with CEC? (/gq)

Animatronics are a big SI for me and I regularly go to CEC, but after hearing this it makes me feel sick. It's completely ruined my enjoyment immediately and I've taken all the CEC stuff off my blog because I can't even bear to look at it.

This is just personal experience, if you don't want to I understand I just want to know how you can manage it because I really hate losing this part of me I've held since childhood...

tbh, working at chuck e, being severely mistreated by them, nd learning how horrible of a corporation they are rly has made me build up a lot of resentment toward them. but tht just makes me wanna speak up, cuz they r not gonna stop till they go bankrupt.

after i quit i had to take a long break. i quit with 0 notice bc they literally broke me. quitting with no notice is something i have never done before, i dont like 2 do that. i had to take 2 weeks off from work after tht because they put me in such a bad mental state

after they mistreated me, i also could barely look at cec stuff because it made me so upset remembering what they did 2 me.,.. and tht something that made me so insanely happy, was ruined by horrible management, ableism and corporate greed. i went from absolutely loving my job and having it b the best part of my day, to throwing up due 2 anxiety before/ during every shift cuz i waz so scared of my manager screaming in my face orr threatening my promotion again, (which i never got btw!! they held a promotion over me for months, had me doing all the responsibilities for it but refused to give me the pay raise they promised me for it.) as well as having multiple anxiety attacks/ having to step outside bc i was bawling cuz of the way they treated us. every. single. shift. the worst part about it was they just took advantage of us, the ones who actually cared about working there. they went easier on us if we didnt like the job, but if they see u will put in the effort, time, commitment, and they wwill use that passion u have to run u into the ground. thatz so wrong to me.

at the samee time, this iz smthn I was already kind of prepared for, i am aware of, having a large corporation as my special interest. all corporations are evil, they just try 2 hide it. this was sadly going on the whole time. small stuff, or big. the way they advertise things is purposely confusing to try and get more money out of u. stuff like tht is super fucked up 2 me. for example at my location they charge a $2 fee to activate playpasses, which i was encouraged to hide from the customer. i was literally only allowed to tell them if they asked why they are being charged $2 extra. chuck e has been supporting autism speaks for 2 years now. they just deleted our comments last year becausee they dont fucking care about us. all they care about is money.

what makez me happy about chuck e cheese is not going there, or supporting them,, for me itz the characters, music, videos, merch, animatronics and art. all of these things u can access without supprting CEC entertainment..,. theres so many ways to still engage in this interest without supporting chuck e cheese as a corporation. draw art of the characters. watch content through other YT channels, not the official cec one. theres so much fan-created content at this point, that we dont need corporate. the new stuff theyre putting out is mostly garbage in my opinion anyways. im not gonna miss seeing them use the same 2 renders of rockstar chuck over and over lol. i luvv rockstar, but evrrything coming out now just has this vibe of "we slapped this together to trick u and get ur money". theres no effort put into anything. its just whatever is quickest, cheapest and will make them the most money. barbara the barnyard barber? just a song they bought the rights 2 and slapped cec adlibs on top of.

i love chuck e cheese so much that i can never give it up, its my special interest, its one of the only things tht brings me true happiness. u dont have to give it up either. u can still love chuck e and not support the company. i even still go sometimes to film the bots, i just dont buy any games, merch or food. u can go to a chuck e cheese completely 4 free, which is definitely a huge "fuck u" to corporate imo, since all they want is ur money.

tl;dr : u can still lovr chuck e cheese without giving them money/ supporting them. imo its not morally wrong if u r speaking up about the bad they r doing, or at the least, not ignoring it and not pretending they did nothing wrong. u just gotta find alternative ways to engage with the content.

#asks #very long post #chuck e cheese #cec #chuck e. cheese #animatronics #chuck e. cheese’s #kidcore

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habitatimagines · 2 years

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If you don't mind could i ask for kamal or parsley with a S/o who has Adhd and collects/ obsesses over rocks because of sensory stimulation? Thank youu and have a wonderful day/night

I’ve been wanting to do this ask for a bit bc I think it’s cute and also kinda funny specifically in Kamal’s case

🐸 Kamal With a S/O that has ADHD and collects/obsesses over rocks 🐸

🐸 - So Kamal knew from when you and him started dating that you had ADHD so that wasn’t a surprise. I’m just kinda assuming you told him beforehand.

🐸 - What he wasn’t prepared for though….was the rocks,,,

🐸 - I think this image is fitting for what probs went through his brain:

🐸 - Not gonna lie to you he thought it was going to be Dr. Habit all over again.

🐸 - Was very relieved when you explained.

🐸 - Once that’s all cleared up he asks you about your collection, like where you got the rocks and points out specifically ones he likes.

🐸 - From what I remember in the epilogue Kamal said he goes on bike rides so I can see every time he goes on a bike ride and sees a nice rock he’ll take it and bring it to you as an Offering(tm)

🐸 - Will occasionally stop to look at the rocks or clean them if they’re starting to get a little dusty.

⚖️ Parsley with an S/O who has ADHD and collects rocks ⚖️

⚖️- Man I’m not even going to lie to you, the day he found the collection was like the worst day of ur life WHEEZE

⚖️- He ate 1 of ur rocks oops.

⚖️- Guess that explains where ur other rocks that suspiciously went missing went

⚖️- Once u tell him what those Rocks are for he feels really bad. Will definitely help u replace them in an attempt for forgiveness.

⚖️- Doesn’t really look at/go near ur rock collection for a while bc of how guilty he feels.

⚖️- Tho I think if u bring him over to show him some I think he’ll start going over there a little more once he realizes that you’ve let bygones be bygones

⚖️- Does still have to resist the urge of wanting to eat a couple but for the most part does really well

⚖️- Tho I will say, if ur ever looking to get rid of a rock anytime soon u have an eco-friendly garbage disposal of a bf now

#smile for me game #sfm #s4m #smile for me #kamal bora #kamal x reader #smile for me kamal #sfm kamal #s4m kamal #parsley x reader #parsley botch #sfm parsley #smile for me parsley #s4m parsley

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Camboy Nagito - Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ Sorry this is so short but i had to get it out of my head so i can focus on other stuff aha Description: Your friend Nagito is secretly moonlighting as a camboy on OnlyFans. You accidently catch one of his live streams. Warnings: Explicit sexual content, fem reader, no prounouns used, Word count: 1149

You are supposed to be out on a date, but the guy flaked only an hour before the two of you were supposed to meet up. You are annoyed, slumped back on your couch in your nicest dress, wearing your nicest makeup and ready to just order pizza and call it a failure of an evening.

Hajime and Chiaki are both out at an arcade, and you really don’t feel like getting changed to go meet them, and Nagito was very apologetic when he told you that he had other plans tonight. You were hoping he would be happy to play Stardew Valley for a few hours, but if he’s busy, he’s busy.

So. It’s going to be a pizza and anime night.

You huff and kick your heels off in the direction of your bedroom, planning to pick them up later and grab your phone to order some garbage ‘za from your local haunt. Only to see a message for one of your high school friends.

She lives overseas now, so you don’t get a chance to talk very often, and she hasn’t had time to meet any of your new college friends either. It’s a bummer, you can tell that she and Ibuki would get on like a house one fire.

Bestie: “Oi. I know you said you don’t usually watch this junk, but I stg, this new guy is exactly ur type. Pls watch…...for me??????”

You sigh goodnaturedly. She stalks OnlyFans like she needs it to breathe, and often sends you...recommendations. None of them have really met the mark as of yet.

You: “Since when do you know my type? The last three guys you sent me were super not it.”

Bestie: “Yeah but this guy is different!!!!!! ;P Just check the link. He’s live now. I STG u will lov him!!!!!!”

Well. It isn’t like you have anything better to do. Deciding to come back and order pizza later, you tap on the link. Worst case scenario you hate the guy and close the window, order your pizza and get this night over with. Best case scenario, you get to cum. Pretty decent turn out either way.

Feeling a little optimistic, you ease the hemline of your dress further up your thigh, hoping that this guy is actually your type, and not just some-

The live feed finishes loading.

You freeze.

Eyes running up a length of pale thigh, splayed open wide as a delicate hand languidly pumps at a twitching, blush pink cock. Chest heaving, glittering with sweat in the soft pink lighting from LEDs behind his head, hair plastered to his forehead. A second hand reaches up and circles a nipple, perfect pink lips drop open in a moan.

It’s Nagito.

It can’t be.

But it is.

When he said he was busy tonight, was this what he was talking about? You can’t help wondering how long he has been doing this for.

His thumb brushes the head of his cock and he mewls.

Because he is very good at it.

Something about this feels perverse. Watching your friend writhing and jerking himself off for the camera, panting and moaning with his eyes squeezed shut.

At least he isn’t looking at you.

You subsciously rub your thighs together, clamping your lip between your teeth as the hand on his chest slowly starts travelling down his torso, across his stomach, over his hips and down to-

“No way…” you breathe

He slips a finger inside of himself, and your resolve breaks. You hike your dress the rest of the way up, shoving a hand down into your panties and frantically circling your swollen clit. You’re already soaked. This is disgusting, this is horrible.

Nagito pushes in a second finger and throws his head back in a strangled moan.

You grit your teeth to ignore the shame, and press on your clit even harder.

His hips are moving, writhing, doing anything they can to both cant up into the tight grip of his hand and forward into his penetrating fingers. You can see his knees trembling, his tongue lolling out of his wide open mouth as he whimpers and moans. His porcelain cheeks are flushed bright red and you can’t help wishing that you were the one touching him-

No! Don’t think about that! Not right now!

You force yourself to focus only on his body on the screen. To keep any of your weird emotional stuff disconnected. It isn’t so weird if you just jerk off to him, right? He’s filming it after all, that makes it okay, right?

A third finger slips inside of Nagito’s ass and you let out a shuddering moan. His eyes finally pop open, perfect and green as they always have been, drifting downward until he is staring directly into the lens of the camera. Directly at you. This should make you feel horrible, feel perverted and disgusting, but it doesn’t; somehow the eye contact only makes your insides tighten more. The feeling that he is watching you, that he wants you to see him, to hear him, to finger yourself while you watch him.

He grips his cock tighter, pumping faster, fingers thrusting in and out at a brutal pace as he continues staring forward dead into the camera.

You speed up too. Gasping and moaning at the sight of him, and when he lets out a guttural moan, back arching and cum splattering across his bare stomach. You follow.

Squeezing your eyes shut as the tightness in your belly finally snaps, throwing your head backwards into the cushions of your couch and cumming hard; harder than you have in a very long time.

You just lay there for a minute, the hand holding your phone flopping lifelessly down on the couch next to you as you try to catch your breath.

“Aha. Thank you for watching everyone!” You jump at the sound of Nagito’s voice coming from your phone. Quickly muting it before he has a chance to say anything else.

For some reason, hearing him speak makes it finally cement in your brain that this really is Nagito. The polite guy who sits next to you in your most boring lecture, the guy who you play bad video games with online and the guy who for the past few months, you have been nursing some sort of feelings for.

You sneer at yourself, disappointed at what you let yourself do. So as you shimmy out of your soiled panties with one hand, you send Nagito a generous tip with the other. It’s the least you can do.

What you don’t realise, is that when you first signed up for OnlyFans a few months ago, you signed up with the same username that you used for steam.

And that Nagito is now sitting wide eyed as he stares at the tip he just received from someone who can only be you.

#nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #danganronpa x reader

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