#production hell is truly pain and I need it over
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Restless Spirits. Joel Miller x F! Reader.
Rating: Explicit.
Word Count: 2.4k.
Summary: Joel finds respite in you after being visited by the ghosts of his past.
Warnings: P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Oral (F) Receiving, Creampie, Fingering, Squirting, Some Angst and Mentions of Child Loss.
A/N: This is my first attempt at smut for Joel. I hope you like it.
Thank you to my loves @djarinispunkk @theewokingdead & @chaoticgeminate for reading this over and providing support.
And a big hug to my beloved @foli-vora for providing feedback, support and encouraging me to continue with it!
The grip on your hips is bruising, you want to wince from the pain but you know that he needs this. He needs you to be pliant, he needs you to be still, he needs to mindlessly fuck you until the only thing his body feels is a wave a euphoria that’ll be quickly followed by exhaustion. He needs to wear out his already tired body until it can’t do anything except succumb to whatever amount of sleep his brain will give him.
This isn’t about your pleasure, he’ll give that to you tomorrow, or maybe when he wakes during the night. But right now this is almost for survival, a quick respite from the hell that’s currently ravishing his bones and tormenting his mind.
“Take it,” he grunts as his hand fists your ponytail, his rhythm getting sloppy and sloppier as he nears high. “Good- good fucking girl.”
He pulls out and fists his cock furiously for a few moments before groaning in pleasure as thick’s ropes of his seed start to coat your thighs.
*
You can’t help but think about that look in his eyes from earlier. Before the ghosts of his past unknowingly haunted whatever hope he held for the future.
It’s a look you think you’ve seen once before, but you can’t quite place it. His eyes had something that years ago someone would have described as a glimmer of hope and maybe that’s what it was, but it just seems easier to disregard it as desperation. But right now you can’t.
She was giggling like a child, the shredded remains of a newspaper printed decades earlier crumbled up in her hands as she read an obscure comic strip of a large ginger lasagna loving cat.
Youth coats every inch of her face, she’s still tiny in stature, puberty is still very much a work in progress but still it’s easy to forget that she’s a child.
The way she talks, the unexplainable bravery she exhibits… and then in these passing moments she’ll remind me that she is just a child. One who giggles uncontrollably at stupid comics.
He studied her for a few moments, he watched the way her eyes lit up as she laughed, it was like for a second he truly believed she could be the way out of all of this. And then it fizzled out. The demons he’s created in his mind coming out of the woodwork to shame him for feeling anything but numbness or a crippling sadness that he attempts to disguise with anger and an unfriendliness.
After a few seconds he simply got up and left without saying another word, possibly to down a shot of whiskey or to quietly think about the daughter that lives on through his unwavering pain. He doesn’t speak about her ever; you only found out she existed through Tess. And Tess made it abundantly clear that any conversation that involves his daughter is strictly off limits.
Instead he wears the pain of losing her on his face, it lingers in his bones and bleeds out of him like a wound that’s begging to be
cauterized and causes him to seek solace in debauchery and drink. And you can’t blame him. You never would.
You’ve never experienced that kind of loss, you didn’t know your parents, you were the product of two fools that didn’t think before they acted and left in the hospital you were born in. Raised by the church for a while, before the epidemic hit and then you were carted off to a school for orphans. They attempted to protect you from the hell that you were living in, but you’d seen things, heard things that made your skin crawl. And the day you turned 18, you were left to fend for yourself.
Ten years on you still go to bed resenting the way they didn’t prepare any of you. Instead they made you sit in classrooms and learn about a country that had since crumbled and rotted away as the dead took over the cities and started to line every crack in each pavement.
You’re awakened from your thoughts by the sound of metal hitting the concrete. Her beloved knife slamming against the cold ground after a miscalculation of her party trick. “Be careful,” you tell her and she shoots you back a look that could kill you instantly.
“I’m hungry,” she eventually says after getting bored of her knife and losing interest in the comic, “Where’s Joel?”
“He’s in the other room,” you say as you silently order her to remain, “He’s tired. He needs a break and you have food in your backpack.”
She scoffs loudly in response this time, her signature eye roll accompanies it and you can’t help but choke out a laugh. “Eat. And get some rest. Lord knows how long we will be staying here.”
*
It’s cold. Colder than it has been in the past few weeks. A sign that winter is well under way and is likely about to get a whole lot worse. You’re holed up in an abandoned apartment. The building was surprisingly clear and secluded enough for him to deem fit to stay.
Of course he insisted that the large bookcase from the hallway was to be pushed in front of the door but seemed to almost relax a little when he realized there was no balcony or other way of entering or leaving the apartment than the front door.
Ellie had perked up a little once she saw the amount of reading material in the place, old newspapers, magazines and books. Enough to keep her entertained for a little while and a mattress that didn’t look too dirty in a room that she could have to herself. You were assigned the living room couch and Joel took the other room. He gave you a silent nod that told you to join him once she was definitely asleep.
Creeping into his room, you're surprised to find him awake. Silently watching you as you tiptoe over to the bed he’s sprawled out on and carefully climbing into.
“She asleep?” he asks as you tuck yourself in.
“Yeah. For at least an hour.”
He hums and your stomach flutters at the way his southern drawl seems to drip into every sound he makes.
“You tired, girl?” he asks as his eyes dart around the room seemingly looking at everything but you.
“No.” You respond and he wastes no time, he pulls the blanket from you and starts gesturing for you to take off your panties.
“Good, ‘cause last time you didn’t cum,” are the last words you hear from him before he’s impatiently yanking your underwear down the rest of your legs and spreading them in front of him.
Joel isn’t generally the most patient man but at this moment you’d never know. He’s got you exactly how he likes you, bare to him, pliant and ready to take whatever he’ll give you. And right now he’s savouring the view, slowly palming at the obvious bulge in his threadbare boxer shorts whilst bringing his tongue out to wet his lips.
“The prettiest goddamn pussy I ever saw,” he mumbles before running a finger through your slit and tutting at the obscene amount of arousal that coats it, “Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” you whimper as his fingers work magic on your clit, “It’s all for you.”
“You gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” he asks before ripping his fingers away.
“Yes,” you immediately moan out, the loss of his fingers making you groan beneath him.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His face immediately dives into your pussy, his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds and you whimper his name as his groans vibrate against your core; as he laps up the arousal that had started to spread down your thighs. The taste of you is heaven. Tangy yet sweet and the noises that filter through your lips as his tongue flicks against your bundle of nerves makes his cock throb even harder with need.
“Please,” you whisper as he teases a finger around your vagina, circling the entrance a few times before chuckling, “Please, Sir.”
And without a beat he thrusts two of his thick digits into your heat, curling them up into that spot that only he is able to find before thrusting them in and out of you.
He groans in delight as your fingers entangle in his locks, pulling on his curls as he sucks on your clit. You quietly chant his name as his lips let go of your clit, and his tongue begins its glorious assault on your bundle of nerves again. A moan of his name falls from your mouth before your thighs are squeezing tighter around his head and your pussy is clamping down around his fingers. It’s glorious, white explodes behind your eyes as your body convulses from the pleasure he rips from you.
He doesn’t stop, his tongue continues to lap against your clit, his fingers continue to work their magic inside of you and it becomes clear that this isn’t coming to be the only one he’s pulling from you with his mouth.
His fingers curl up against that spot inside of you one more time and you see stars, your body trembles and an intense pressure builds and immediately snaps as a trickle of liquid gushes from you and coats his face.
“Oh, fuck,” you splutter as you realize what you did, “I’ve never done… I’m sorry.”
You fingers unclench in his hair as you gently move his face away, finally getting a glimpse at the way your arousal is glistening on his face and beard.
“You apologize again and I’ll give you something to apologize for, pretty girl,” he warns before bringing the fingers that were buried in your cunt to his mouth and sucking them clean, “You want to sleep? Or do you want me to fuck this pretty little pussy?”
“You already know,” you mumble as you writhe beneath him, studying his face as he licks his lips, his eyes still focusing on your glistening cunt.
“Yeah, but I ain’t doing shit until I hear you say it, pretty girl.” He says as his eyes slowly sweep up your body and burrow into yours.
“I want you to fuck me, sir,” you say as he pushes your t-shirt above your tits, and bends down to take a nipple in his mouth. His teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his lips envelope it and he sucks hard. You moan quietly as he snakes his hand between you both and starts rubbing your overstimulated clit. He chuckles as you hiss as he works your clit. “I need you to fuck me, Joel.”
He lets go of your nipple with a loud pop before shaking his head. “Not good enough, girl,” he taunts before moving across to the other nipple.
“Please, Joel,” you beg as his nimble fingers work your clit a little harder and faster, “Need you inside of me. Need you to take whatever you need from… Please, please, sir, -ooh- please fuck me.”
His tongue teases your nipple as he pulls a third orgasm from you, “Let’s make this pretty pussy come around my cock, pretty girl.”
He finally pushes his boxers down and lets his cock break free, it bobs up and down a few times before he takes it in hand and strokes himself roughly a few times. You wet your lips at the sight, the tip of him almost purple with a bead of pre-cum that’s begging to be licked clear.
He reaches over and grabs his pillow with his free hand and you lift your hips for him ready to place it beneath you.
“Be a good girl and keep quiet for me now,” he orders as he lines himself up to your entrance and slowly pushes himself in. Your breath hitches at the stretch of him, and he takes it slow. No matter how many takes he fucks you, the way he fills your tight heat always takes a few moments for you to get used to.
“Like a fucking glove,” he murmurs as he waits for the okay to move, “Always feels so perfect around me.”
“Fuck me,” you moan as clamp down around him, “I need you to move.”
Without missing a beat, he pulls out and immediately pushes back in, his hips finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into you. His thrusts are perfectly precise; his cock dragging against that spot inside of you with every punch of his hips. “Good girl,” he grunts, “Always taking my cock so fucking good.”
You keen at his praise, your walls fluttering around his cock as he builds you up and towards the edge of paradise once more and then you see it.
It’s fleeting, unbearably quick and almost undetectable but you catch it. That look in his eyes again. The one that almost resembles hope, this time aimed at you and this time replaced by a look of exhilaration instead of misery as you clamp down around him. He continues thrusting in and out as you deliriously chant his name. You feel the warmth of his pleasure begin to coat your walls as you rip free his pleasure. A groan of delight floods the air with every one of his thrusts until you’ve milked him dry.
His mouth possessively envelopes yours and takes you by surprise as his tongue licks its way into your mouth. You keen at the feeling of his fingers gripping your jaw as he swallows the moans you breathe into his mouth. His teeth capture your bottom lip and he gently nibbles before letting it go and resting his forehead on yours.
You see it one more time, just as briefly as before, his lips slightly curling upwards before the ghosts of his past chase it away.
Hope? Excitement? Happiness?
He retrieves his pillow from your underneath your hips and snuggles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your neck.
“So, no one has ever made you squirt before, pretty girl?” He mumbles into your skin and you can feel the grin that’s clearly spreading across his face.
“Go to sleep, Miller,” you murmur back as you close your eyes. Enjoying the warmth of his skin settling onto yours.
Maybe you won’t ever truly know what it is, but what you do know is that you’ll give him whatever he needs to see it pass through his eyes again.
#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller#hbo the last of us#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#my fanfic#my fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou
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Can’t Take My Eyes Off You
Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)
Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!
A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗
So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹
Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight.
Did it matter anyway?
The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong.
It was frustrating.
You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure.
When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down.
You were gullible; so naive.
The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.
That’s when you walked into my life, Angel.
It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.
He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.
He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again.
That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it.
It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.
Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.
That is until he’s stopped in his tracks.
The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello.
The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.
Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.
That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back.
He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?”
The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil. Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office.
His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall.
You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that.
Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day.
Who the fuck is she?
The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind.
“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?”
“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.”
Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”
The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words.
Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you.
It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem.
“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”
“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding.
The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”
Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too.
The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.
The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool.
Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.
“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?”
Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.
To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?”
Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”
As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock.
The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited.
Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?”
“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily.
Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”
You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips.
His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You.
The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha.
After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.”
Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.
“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.
Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him.
Carter.
Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you – the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted.
You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.
Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life. Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.
Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you.
He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.
Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.
“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”
The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give.
“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”
Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend.
The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half, almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation.
Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.
He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations.
You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation.
Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities.
The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs.
It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.
Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody.
I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me.
Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can.
He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity.
The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine.
Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day. No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x female reader#bucky fic#bucky smut#james bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#dark bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x female reader
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VALUE
↳ In which harry values his privacy, but he values y/n much more
Warnings: Hope you enjoy this fluffy fic, please remember send some asks about the fic and to reblog! I appreciate it 🫶
***
It was truly a sight to see. Harry Styles, the private, the scary, the grumpy, CEO of pleasing, standing in front of an aisle of sanitary products. To be completely honest, he was so out of his comfort zone and so bloody confused. Why were pads and tampons such confusing items, he thought as he scanned the rows again, desperately trying to find the right ones his lover needed.
Sighing, he gave up, reaching into his back pocket he pulled out his phone. His fingers quickly found his girlfriend's contact number and pressed it, within two rings, y/n answered with a groggy “hello?” Harry smiled at her voice, knowing she probably woke up from a nap and didn’t have time to check the caller id before she answered the call.
“Hi fireheart” he spoke into the phone, voice low and deep. Despite being in pain and in bed, y/n smiles upon hearing her boyfriend's voice.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” She asks, wincing as she sits up in bed, tugging the duvet up with her so that she could tuck it around herself to keep nice and warm. The pain was shooting up her back but the new position was somewhat soothing.
“I’m so confused” he spoke, staring at the hygiene products in front of him. His eyes once again scanned the rows, desperately trying to remember the brand y/n told him about before he left the house.
“About wh- ohh, about the tampons?” She giggles quietly at her boyfriend's frustration.
“Yeah, about the tampons” Harry confirms, running a hand through his hair, slightly tugging at the end of his unruly locks.
“Tampax pearl compak. Get them in the regular size but the mega pack please” y/n reminds him softly, patiently waiting for her boyfriend's response, she hears shuffling on the other side of the call.
“Urm, y/n, what colour is the packet?” Harry asks, as he takes long strides towards the part of the aisle that held all the Tampax products.
“Yellow and blue” y/n replies before she hears a low groan from the other end. “Harry? You good?”
“Fuck, there’s paps here, I can see them outside” he replies, answering her question. Y/n could sense the frustration coming from him, matter of fact, she could already envision the steam releasing from his ears.
“M’sorry” she mutters, feeling angry at herself for sending her extremely well-known boyfriend to the pharmacy to get her tampons. She should’ve known he’d get papped. Harry was a very private person, he never shared anything from his private life with anyone, matter of fact, only his secretary knew about his girlfriend. No one else did, he wanted to protect y/n from the harassment she would face for dating a CEO.
“Why are you apologising for, fireheart?” He asked, a frown on his face, he picks up the tampons y/n asked him for and walked over to pay but not before grabbing some painkillers and y/ns favourite bar of chocolate and one for himself too.
“I sent you to get me the tampons and now you’re going to get harassed by those idiots” y/n spoke, tears pricking her eyes. She knew how much Harry valued his privacy.
“Babe, it’s fine. Really, nothing I can’t handle yeah? Y’know, I’m a strong boy, I’ll fight those paps off. I’ll be the one harassing them” Harry replied, dropping all the items onto the checkout, the elderly lady working there gives him a look which he decides to ignore. All he wanted to do was cheer up his upset girlfriend at home.
“Ok, I love you” y/n speaks into the phone and Harry smiles.
“That’s my girl, I love you too, I’ll be home in about 10 minutes” with that, Harry ends the call and stuffs his phone back into his back pocket before paying for the items and getting the hell out of the pharmacy.
As he stepped foot outside, all he could hear was the clicking of the cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi.
“Here Mr Styles!”
“How’s your day been?”
“Are those tampons?”
“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr Styles?”
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Harry, look here!”
“This is a money shot right here”
It was just shouting after shouting, Harry could feel his face burning as the paparazzi followed him to his car. “Fuck off” he shouted, once a pap came too close. “Back the fuck off” was the last thing the guys heard as Harry got into his car and threw it in reverse to get out.
The drive was only 5 minutes and not before long Harry was making his way into his gated home. He walked up the long flights of stairs before finally pushing the door to his bedroom open to find y/n cuddled up in bed, scrolling through TikTok.
“Hi, I’m back” he announced his entrance, walking towards his girlfriend and taking a seat next to her on the bed. “And I’ve got you, your goodies”
“Hey, you” she replies, leaning in for a soft kiss before taking the bag off Harry. “Thank you love” she says as she makes her way over to the ensuite to do her business.
Harry lays in bed, scrolling through some emails when Y/n walks out. “So they did harass you?” She frowns, climbing into bed, pulling up a picture the paps took of Harry covering his face on her phone.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle” he replies nonchalantly, putting his phone on the nightstand before pulling y/n towards him, her back pressed firmly against his sturdy chest. His large, calloused but warm hands find purchase on her stomach, he rubs soft circles with his thumb.
“But they followed you to your car, they asked you personal questions, I know you value your privacy. I’m so sorry I put you through that” y/n apologised profusely.
“C’mon babe, don’t be like that. It’s not your fault. I do value my privacy, yes, but I value you more. I wanted to go out and get you your tampons. I want to do normal boyfriend things, because I love you, yeah? Fuck the paps, they shouldn’t stop me from being normal.” Harry spoke, the passion in his voice when he said he loved y/n was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“I love you, I’m sorry paps can be so annoying” she says, grabbing Harry’s hand and bringing it to her lips just as Harry brings his own lips to her shoulder.
“Stop with the apologising and cuddle me” Harry says and y/n lets out a teary chuckle, she wipes at her eyes and turns around to face her boyfriend.
“Hi, you” she says, making Harry smile. He moves his hands behind her, slowly massaging at her back.
“Hey, this feel good?” He asks, earning a nod from y/n.
“So good” she hums, as she lets her eyes close, Harry smiles softly. He nuzzles in closer towards her, nose pressing into his hair, taking in the rich smell of her shampoo. Y/n shuffles a bit before throwing her leg over Harry’s thigh and cuddling in closer towards his chest, his hands were still rubbing soothing circles into her back.
“I love you” she mutters sleepily, her arms tightening around her lover.
“I love you more, fireheart” Harry replies, kissing into her hair. “Now get some sleep, sweet girl”
#harry styles blurbs#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry writing#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles fics#harry styles oneshot
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Hey!! Sorry if I’m doing this wrong I am new to this kinda stuff but do u mind writing headcanons on how the p5 phantom thief boys would take care of the reader when they’re on their period? If not it’s fine!
꒰baby im yours !꒱
p5 boys when their s/o is on their period headcannons !
character x afab!reader
includes joker, ryuji, yusuke, and akechi !
warnings : mentions of periods, obviously lol
a/n : its shark week for yours truly so i thought now is the best time to write this :D i wasnt sure what gendered reader you wanted, so i just decided to leave it as afab, hope thats alright :))
JOKER // REN AMAMIYA
maybe this is biased, but i feel out of everyone on this list hes the most prepared.
like, hes not overbearing but he knows just enough to spare you both any awkward conversations.
he doesnt have any feminine products in his bathroom since its technically shared with leblanc customers and he doesnt want to embarrass you or anyone else, but you know theres always a few of whatever you need in his school bag or his dresser!
hes a very calm person, which can be very relieving, especially when you accidentally bleed on something.
you both were hanging out one day after school, and when you got up off of his bed to go make some food, you noticed a red spot on the sheets.
you were internally freaking out, trying to figure out what to do knowing how some guys tend to find it gross, while ren literally just comments "dont worry about it, i needed motivation to do laundry anyways." and asks if you need anything.
you feel like youve just been given whiplash, no way thats it, hes so cool with it?
he even gives you a pair of his boxers and sweatpants since you bled through your clothes, and when you come out of the bathroom hes got a steaming hot cup of coffee and some chocolates on the counter all ready for you. <3
SKULL // RYUJI SAKAMOTO
confused, embarrassed, and a little bit (a lot) dramatic. he tries to act like its not a big deal, but in reality he doesnt really know anything about periods, and hes convinced youre secretly in a lot of pain. (which i mean, you could be depending on cramps… but you get what i mean.)
hes horribly uneducated on this topic, and definitely the worst person to be stuck with when you start.
hes calling ann asking her to explain what to do with the reddest face youve ever seen. 🧍
ryuji definitely thought it was a little gross at first too, but once he understood it was just a normal thing your body did he felt more okay about it.
hes trying super hard to be a good boyfriend, but hes stuttering over his questions. barely able to ask you if he needs to get you anything.
i swear his eyes almost popped out of his head when you said all you wanted was for him to shut up and cuddle with you. 💀💀
he tries to be there for you as much as possible, but if you tend to get more angry, just note that hell try to stay away a bit.
he has issues keeping his temper under control, even when it comes to you, and he doesnt want to start any unnecessary arguments.
at the end of the day, communication is key when it comes to you guys relationship, he just wants whats best for both of you!
FOX // YUSUKE KITAGAWA
yusuke has probably never felt the touch of another human being before you so hes very… confused to say the least.
what do you mean youre bleeding? and its normal? this happens monthly? his mind is blown.
i dont see him being weird in the way he wants to use your period as inspiration for a painting, but weird in the way that hell track it.
maybe this just a personal thing who finds it weird when a guy wants to track when your on your cycle, but it seems right up yusukes alley 😭.
hes a little strange, and he just wants to help! but he also doesnt really know what hes doing, so his presence can be a bit overwhelming.
gets pouty when you end up snapping at him, but once you explain why hes a lot more aware of how much hes bothering you.
hes also willing to get you whatever you need, as long as youre buying.
one time you had asked him to get you pads/tampons, and he called you 30 minutes later saying that he didnt have any money…
however, unlike someone else on this list, hes not embarrassed about it. more so genuinely curious, as he loves learning about you and he thinks its important to know how your body works!
hell probably draw you something nice as well if it makes you feel better. :)
CROW // GORO AKECHI
oh boy, akechi sure is a character. and i think with him it depends.
usually though hes just a pretty average guy. hes not stupid, but he also isnt the best at understanding your emotions, or his own, for that matter.
youre in public, akechi talking to one of the tv hosts after hes finished appearing on a show, and you gently tug on his jacket to let him know you started your period, and need the restroom.
hes conflicted, whats supposed to come first, you or his reputation? when it comes to him, he makes any simple situation way more complicated in his head.
he makes an eternal sacrifice to shoo away the people talking to him, and he quickly takes off his jacket to wrap it around your waist. you both find a bathroom nearby and he paitently waits for you outside.
when you walk out, he offers to pick up whatever you may need (including some food) and take you home.
at your front door, he kisses your cheek, but cant help but noticed the nervous expression on your face.
its only then when you mention that akechis jacket is, in fact, a light color, and is most definitely stained now with bright red blood. his face goes blank, and youre worried for a second he might be mad.
he only shrugs at that, same detective prince smile as always, and jokes that youre paying for his dry cleaning.
#✧;;↬ my work.❞┊🍓#✧;;↬ baton pass.❞┊🪄#✧;;↬ 1 more.❞┊🎭#persona 5#persona 5 x reader#shin megami tensai persona#persona#joker x reader#ryuji sakamoto x reader#joker x you#ryuji sakamoto x you#yusuke kitagawa x reader#yusuke kitagawa x you#goro akechi x reader#goro akechi x you#fox persona 5#skull persona 5#crow persona 5#joker persona 5
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I've seen several discussions about how Aziraphale truly thought Crowley would be happier as an angel again, and it's spun in my brain to the point I went down a bit of a GO brainrot rabbit hole.
Obviously, this is just how I read the scene and feel about it, but I think it shows Aziraphale's level of being affected by Heaven's toxicity that he could think that while actually knowing Crowley.
Crowley, who has never been silent about how much he hates both sides and the entire system. Heaven threw him out for (supposedly) asking questions, made his existence a literal hell while angels like Gabriel walked free. Crowley could only, no doubt, wonder how someone who should know him better than anyone couldn't understand that. But in the pain of the moment, he's not accepting just how much Aziraphale's toxic family is still twisting his thinking on Heaven. Even though Aziraphale has always made that obvious, Crowley kept hoping he'd change and sticking his head in the sand, but it's not that easy.
Aziraphale wants to protect Crowley, but he went about it in the exact opposite way than he should have to get what he wanted. Crowley did the same thing every time he pushed Aziraphale to flee. He only wanted to protect Aziraphale. Neither is innocent in hurting the other while only wanting to keep them safe. Best of intentions and all that.
The problem is, in my mind, Crowley no doubt heard how he could be an angel again and how things would be "even better" and translated it to "if only you were an angel you'd be worthy. If only then I could love you, not this demon." Too many centuries of statements like "I don't even like you" (and even during this conversation: "you're the bad guys") have made him insecure in where he stands with Aziraphale, even if he'd never admit it.
That almost all of those statements were a product of Aziraphale's fear and overwhelming desire to protect Crowley is true, but they still damaged Crowley's faith in his worth to Aziraphale.
Unfortunately, Aziraphale was so caught up in maybe finally receiving validation from the very family that have always mistreated him, but that he longs to be loved by, that he couldn't see that his offer could never be accepted. Religious and family trauma are a real, manipulative bitch. Where as Crowley is fully no contact, Aziraphale isn't there yet.
I honestly think part of season three will be Aziraphale finally accepting the system for what it is: toxic and flawed and nothing but shades of grey. I think he'll grow as an individual while standing alone in Heaven, being the BAMF he always has been, to help save humanity. I think that growth will only serve to improve and strengthen his relationship with Crowley once the danger has passed and they're free. And somewhere in there, he'll understand why Crowley rejected his offer as he did.
Meanwhile, Crowley already knows the system is broken, but he has to get past his urge to protect Aziraphale above all else, then his need to help save humanity will kick in. I can't help but see him as more akin to Adam at this point, more humanlike in his desires and motivations than either demon or angel. I think he'll choose to stand with humanity but eventually accept that Aziraphale being on the inside is a necessary evil to achieve the goal they both want: humanity safe and the two of them truly out of the system.
Like Aziraphale, I think Crowley will be better for all of it in the end, too. Even if I wish neither of them had to go through the pain. They're so codependent; they both need to evolve as individuals and then, after that, they'll both be better suited to be their us, their group of two, once everything all over. Neither focused on angel or demon, good or evil, but just us.
The garden will be lovely then.
#good omens#this is my brain on good omens#good omens 2 spoilers#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable divorce#02x06#ramblings
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Pairing: Quill x (GN) Reader
⚠️ DISCLAIMER ⚠️ : THIS FIC IS ABOUT PERIODS. THE READER WILL BE REFERRED TO WITH EXCLUSIVELY THEY/THEM PRONOUNS, BUT THEY DO HAVE THEIR PERIOD IN THIS FIC. WOMEN ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES WHO HAVE PERIODS.
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1K
Plot Summary: Y/N gets their period and turns to Peter for help.
Y/N was in despair.
They had entered the bathroom, only to realize it was, once again, that time of the month. Of course, since they were no longer on Terra, they had trouble keeping track of what day it was there. Since the times on the planets they visited with their fellow guardians of the galaxy were completely inconsistent, they were more focused on molding their schedule to fit into the planets they visited than on when their period would show up. When they realized it had come back, all they could think was, “Already?” Then it hit them. All of their period products were in their room. What were they going to do? They couldn't get up to go get them, otherwise their- by some miracle- spotless underwear would be ruined. They could always use toilet paper, but it was never truly effective. The idea hit them like a train on a track (yes, that was on purpose.) “Peter!” they yelled out.
Their best friend in the whole entire galaxy, Peter Quill was the only one they trusted to enter their room. Lucky for them, he just happened to be in the next room over. They waited, rather impatiently, for him to yell in reply, but no reply came. “Peter Jason Quill!!!” they shouted, hoping he'd notice they used his full name. “Don't call me that, Y/N M/N L/N!” he retorted almost instantly.
“Peter, can you do me a favor?”
“That depends on what it is, Y/N.”
“Can you come here?”
“You want me to come into the bathroom with you?”
“NO. Just- come here, man!”
Silence followed Y/N’s command, and footsteps came right after. They heard Peter speak, now at a regular volume. “What's up, asshole?” Y/N hesitated, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. “Well… I can't really get up, but I need something from my room. Can you get it for me? Please?” they pleaded. “Well, that depends on what it is,” he replied. “It's under my bed. In a box. It's wrapped in orange plastic. Don't open it, just hand it to me” Y/N instructed. “Well… alright.” Peter said as he walked away.
Y/N waited. Even though they trusted Peter, they couldn't shake the feeling that he'd mess up somehow. It wasn't that they thought Peter wasn't capable of getting it right, it was… well it was that. They waited anxiously for his return, as what seemed like hours passed. He returned, opened the door, and stuck his hand in, holding the pad. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, and put it on.
“What is that thing, anyway?” Peter asked Y/N as they left the bathroom. “It's a pad,” they replied casually. Peter gave them a puzzled look. “What the hell is a pad?” he asked. “It protects your clothes when you get your period.” Y/N explained. “OH! I know what those are!” he exclaimed, seeming excited to know what Y/N was talking about for once. “My mom explained them to me!” he clarified, grinning. Then it dawned on him how his mom will would always be in pain when she had them, and how she explained that they were usually very painful. His grin vanished almost instantly.
“Wait- are you okay? Do you need anything?” “Aww, I'm okay, dude,” Y/N reassured him. “It just hurts a little bit. That explains why I was in pain all morning, now doesn't it?” they joked. Peter did not find it funny. He cared deeply about Y/N, and seeing them in pain just about broke his heart. “No. Come on, I'm going to take you to your room.” he deadpanned. “Wait, wh-” Y/N was cut off by Peter, as he grabbed them by their waist and lifted them up before they even realized what happened.
“Okay, do you need anything else?” Peter asked after he had put Y/N in their bed, and gotten them water. “I didn't need anything in the first place, Peter.” Y/N replied coldly. They were still in shock from getting carried by Peter. There was something about it that made them feel like they were going insane. They were blushing the entire time, and Rocket making fun of them while they were on the way didn't exactly help.
“Come on, let me take care of you. Please?” he practically begged. “Well… fine. I don't need anything else, but… can you stay?” Y/N wanted him to stay, more than anything. They liked it when the two of them were together like this. They loved being with all of the guardians, but there was something different about being with Peter. They couldn't explain exactly how, but they knew they liked it. It was the kind of different that would make even those who despised change feel open to it. Even though the guardians are all the same when it comes down to it, he felt different to Y/N somehow. When they asked that question, Peter, who was frowning at the time, smiled. It was nice to feel wanted. “Well, of course!” he answered.
They had been talking for what felt like minutes, but was actually hours. One thing led to another, and eventually they were laying side by side, laughing at each other's jokes. Y/N yawned, and Peter looked at them almost lovingly. “Well,” he sat up, looking down at Y/N. “I should go, you're tired and you need your rest.” he told them. “Noooo…” they whined, their tiredness becoming more prominent by the minute. “Please stay, Pete.” Y/N pleaded. Peter laid back down in defeat, and almost instantly felt Y/N wrap their arms around him. It made him feel warm. The kind of warmth you would feel after coming home to freshly baked cookies. At first the sudden touch made his whole body stiffen, but then it was as if he melted into it.
He had never felt this way about anyone before. Not about any of his friends, not about any of the people he'd slept with. He didn't know what this feeling was. All he knew was that it was new, and he liked it. But, of course it was platonic. Like advanced friendship. Right?
(A/N: don't you just love it when people are oblivious to their own feelings? I don't. But it's fun as hell to write! ☺️)
Part 2 here
#gotg#peter quill#star-lord#peter quill x reader#star lord x reader#peter x reader#i wrote this exclusively in lines at disneyland.#start clapping. /j#period fic#fluff#yeah. i referenced dog days#yeah. “advanced friendship” is also a reference.
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LOC’d in
Braids, Relaxers, Texturizers, Twists, Silk Press
I’ve had them alllllllll. Black hair is truly an art. But it’s also a struggle, a very vulnerable struggle.
Growing up I would rotate between braids with beads and the rendezvous with the hot comb. And that hot comb was the worst when it tapped your ear. I hated my hair growing up, one time I took scissors and cut off the entire left side of my hair. Chop chop. My hair was doing a lot and none of it was what I wanted. I wanted long straight hair. I had short coils suffocated by endless bouts of frizz. In elementary school, I started wearing relaxers and though, it got me closer to my lusciously straight locks, it tore the hell out of my hair’s health.
I remember in fourth grade after getting my hair done, I would reach up and feel what felt like a thin crunchy cracker over 70% of my head. And me being a kid, I would pick at it. And pick, and pick, and pick. I didn’t know until middle school that these were scabs because my scalp was nonexistent at this point. Relaxers would burn and my hair dresser would out a little shampoo to calm it down. That magic shampoo was the solution to anything the relaxer touched. My hair schedule went: relaxer every 5 weeks, in between I get a wash and straighten. Wrap my hair at night and spraying this fantasy smelling mist oil to refresh my hair in the morning. When i brushed my hair, it sounded like I was brushing one of my doll’s heads.
It was frustrating because I wanted my long straight hair, but there’s no way I would achieve that with the amount of damage on my hair. I would take a few months off and get braids, which I enjoyed after the tension loosened on my head. Sleeping was awful if the braids were too tight. Painkillers and soft pillows were sweeter than lifesavers.
High school, I decided I needed a drastic change. So I chopped my hair off (though not much of it) into a pixie cut. Won’t lie, it was pretty dope. I liked it and even without relaxing it, I finally saw a style I liked that was easy, too. And for once in my life- my hair started growing. Sprouting like a weed. I was completely natural and had a thick head of hair. More hair means more work and I did not like work, ha ha. Braids were a constant for me, again, despite the pain. I bleached my hair blonde and I loved it so much but my hair dried up like the desert. It was breaking off again and I didn’t know how to care for it. Natural hair seemed like so much effort- LOC method, twist it, pineapple at night, Bantu knots, etc. I couldn’t find anything that kept my hair moisturized. I couldn’t find a style that would ease my freaking mind.
Until… I met this guy at my retail job and his hair was loc’d down his back. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. And if you’ve yet to know me- Hi, my name is T and I am known for being extremely impulsive. Within a few weeks, I started my locs and they were cute. Cute little twists bunching on my head and swinging by my chin. Didn’t last long though.
I kept with the style and sure enough, after a year my hair was thriving. So much that I decided to dye my head blue. Loved that, especially since it left remnants of blonde which now cover my ends. Feeling so cool with that! And my hair didn’t dry out either, it just said Oh okay, we’re blue now. Best part is, I don’t do much with my hair. My list of products went from a full cabinet and drawers to a single shelf. And most products are normal things I use to cook/clean with like ACV and coconut oil.
My hair has never been longer, going from chin length at the start to now mid back. I’ve been in this game for over 5 years now. It was not an easy game, if I’m being honest. Locking my hair was not something I had seen possible, until I did. I was the only one out of my friends, and my self esteem was already tattered. I’ve encountered the jokes about me being a pothead or if I actually wash my hair of course. But the beauty I found within will always outweigh that. My perception of self eliminated all the ignorance.
I’m a grown adult now, fuck. And I fucking love my hair, I think it’s the coolest shit I’ve ever seen. All I want to do is take good care of it and honor my crown. It took a lot to get here- went through hell and back, a few times (I’m a cycler).
Every tear, every scab, every ounce of pain was worth it.
👑
#divine feminine#intuition#photography#artists on tumblr#artwork#celestial#creative writing#happiness#healing#love#black women#black tumblr#black hair#hairstyle#women with locs#natural hair
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Aaron Z - Actually, Cassidy, I Am Busy
Gen ;; Fluff - Headcanons
Warnings ;; Noooo ??
Proofread + Edited ;; only when adding the seasoning (bold,, italics,, purple,, etc.)
Auth. Note ;; I love highschool!Aaron Z too much,, he's so precious TT^TT
This turned out much longer than anticipated (💀), so I do hope you enjoy !!
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Ah,, the school production
How you've missed the last minute rehearsals, the after show parties, mouthing conversations across the stage and that one girl who got the lead and won't shut the hell up about it
What's not to love ??
Okay,, maybe you're being unnecessarily pessimistic
Because you'll still come back
Every
Single
Time
Honestly,, it's a problem at this point
Like masochism but without the physical pain
Though it is sometimes physical
Like,,
Whoever the fuck is responsible for some of these dance moves needs to chopped into little pieces and fed to some hungry piranhas
You've rolled your ankle and nearly shattered it into smithereens about a hundred times
Rehearsals have just started and you're on your first fucking dance number
Clumsy is looking like a bit of an understatement at this point
You're not normally like this, you swear !!
You're just not much of a dancer
At least not these dance moves anyway
Who decided a high kick followed by step-turn followed by another high kick and then a roll and then a fucking leap into yet another bloody high kick was a good and necessary part of the routine
You'd do just fine with a few arm waves.. maybe a YMCA if we're feeling particularly adventurous
You have a few choice words for them
Or maybe a whole ass speech
We'll see how articulate you are when you find them
As you huff and puff through your anger you don't notice the sound of footsteps behind you
"What are you doing?"
An ungodly shriek flies from your lips as you jump nearly three fucking feet in the air
You curl into a nearby wall, grasping at your chest as if that would slow your racing heart
"What the hell, man?"
You groan at the cackling boy behind you
Aaron Z
Fucking prick
Since being forced together as what essentially boiled down to patient and nurse,, the two of you had grown close
Bit hard not to when you can't catch a single break from one another
"Couldn't resist, sorry."
You held up your fist, shaking it mockingly
"One of these days I'll get a bell on you and then we'll see what's funnier."
"I could be wearing a foghorn that goes off whenever I come within 6 feet of you and you still wouldn't notice. You'd be too stuck inside that head of yours."
You roll your eyes but concede with a smile
"Whatever, man."
"Anyway, wanna let me in on what has you so.. "
"Excited? Thrilled? Jumping for joy? Sure thing, Z, let me fill you in on what I so dearly love about these shows!"
Z furrows his brow and looks almost.. scared ??
Dramatic fucker
"I've truly missed practically breaking my ankle every other second oh so much, haven't you?"
"..I just got off crutches.."
...
Fuck
"Right, that was ill-timed, huh.. but you get my point!"
Z kinda just stares at your blankly as you fight the urge to sigh
"..Okay, so maybe you don't get my point.."
"You know, I don't know if I even know my point.. oh well, just know that my feet hurt and I'm ready to throw hands!"
Z blinked at you slowly before nodding
"Sure, you do that.."
You,, lost in your righteous fury,, don't register the sarcasm and nod firmly
"I absolutely will do that, just you watch me. I swear, when I get my hands on that-"
"Z! We need some help with the choreo over here, could you spare us a second?"
Your eyes narrow at the interruption before widening in slow realisation
"Be right over!" Z yells back before turning to you. "See ya."
You glare at his shrinking figure..
So he's the bitch that's decided to cast ruin upon your ankles..
Very well,, two can play that game !!
You'll give him just as good as you get
Over the following weeks you pulled some..uh,, harmless (??) pranks on Z
All necessary reparations for the damages to your body,, mind and soul,, of course !!
Really,, you didn't ever do anything bad to him.. just caused some mild inconvenience
Like,, when he changed shoes for dancing you'd spray the insides of his trainers with water
Or putting his playlist on shuffle when he's across the room
Or "accidentally" breaking his bluetooth connection by turning off his speaker and then turning it back on again.. multiple times throughout rehearsals
You would never do anything actually harmful !!
All tricks are mildly inconvenient and annoying at worst and funny at best !!
You swear !!
Please no arrest..
A month or so before the show you notice Z getting actually frustrated at one of your little.. pranks
So you decide to quit them,, they were pretty petty after all
Unfortunately,, in the process of putting a stop to your trickster ways Z notices you in your trickster ways
Needless to say,, he's not all that.. impressed
(It's not your fault the guy's been attempting to break your bones every rehearsal,, whether intentionally or not..)
So an apology it is..
SIKE
As if !!
Just because he's perpetually in crutches doesn't mean you want be
Haha loser..
...
Okay,, okay
So maybe you do apologise after all
That last thought made you feel kinda bad.. it's not Z's fault his limbs are too long and don't listen to him
(It's prolly because they're so far away from his brain..)
Although,, and you hate to admit it,, he somehow overcomes the limits of his lankiness and becomes quite.. graceful when he dances
It's pretty cool to watch..
He looks very at home,, not just in the space but also in his body
It's enchanting to watch
(IN A COMPLETELY PLATONIC WAY AHAHAHAHA)
Haha..
.. anyway
Z, to your surprise, takes the situation really well
Like,, bursts out laughing kinda well
Which, let's be clear, you were so relieved by, you'd been expecting him to be pretty upset about it
But no,, Z's spent enough time around his friends and their pranks to be able to find the humour in your "revenge"
If anything you accidentally incite a prank wars type situation
Which really solidifies your crush ahem,, sorry friendship
You know what they say,, friends that prank together stay together
(Though I guess it's less pranking together and more each other.. oh well)
The war spans the rest of the rehearsal period,, each one a (probably sloppy) attempt to one-up the last
It's fun
And better yet it's mostly harmless
Mostly...
There was that one time a bucket barely missed your head when Z was attempting to douse you in glitter
At least you would've had a concussion in style ??
Anyway,, the prank war was pretty much harmless
No fatal wounds were received which has to count as a win,, right ??
You both made it to opening night unharmed !!
And someone seemed to pick up on your disgruntled attitude during dance rehearsals because suddenly there were a lot more breaks and in depth dance breakdowns
And wouldn't you know it,, the ensemble began picking everything up 12x faster
A greater miracle you've never seen
And if by opening night the prank wars are somehow still going..
Well,, the glint in Z's eyes whenever they catch yours tells you more than enough
You're in for a treat
#how do these always get so long..#oh well#more for you guys ig#4town#4town headcanons#4town aaron z#4town aaron z x reader#turning red#4*town#aaron z#4town x reader
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maybe this is controversial but i feel extreme body positivity or neutrality is not the solution to insecurity. As someone with acne + eczema I don't want to blindly embrace my skin and love it unconditionally ... because I simply do not. That does not mean I'm a miserable person or anything. My skin hurts, it's sensitive, it costs me a lot of money to keep it at bay etc. I don't particularly feel like the argument that it is a part of you and you should love it is a compelling one. There is no reason for me to love it or embrace it. What i'm saying is maybe there is no harm in acknowledging insecurity or unease. Maybe it's better than smothering all insecurity with blinding positivity in the hope that your mindset will change. When you consider beauty standards, racism , misogyny etc it is then an entirely different conversation. Maybe as a society we need to stop ignoring our bodies and health and actually confront what it is that makes us uncomfortable and why. Parroting the same love yourself spiel is allowing beauty companies to profit from this notion of empowerment. I think that being brutally honest with the intersection of the socio-political and economic entanglements of insecurity and industry will better reflect why we feel the way we do. Where extreme positivity falls down in my opinion is that there is no balancing introspection because I don't think anyone can ever truly be completely positive about themselves - people are complex and that's okay. Obviously beauty standards are ridiculous as a whole and founded on a commodified and racialised view of the body but slapping on buzzwords like empowerment and confidence over the same strive for beauty sure as hell will not dismantle those standards. Back to my example. My skin is not beautiful it is a painful reminder of neverending hormonal changes and unfortunate genetics. I am not miserable and I am aware of the unrealistic standards for skin. I am not empowered by branding my skin in overtly positive terms built on a misguided notion of improvement that corporations appropriate to brainwash you into buying their #girlboss products. I am a culmination of all my lived experiences as someone who has hated, loved, cringed, been embarrassed and in pain by their skin. We should all be more honest with ourselves.
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I feel like I haven't been writing enough lately, not in the sense of needing to write a story--although God knows I haven't been doing that either--but in the sense of writing like I used to, in journals, to try to untangle my mind. There are dangers in writing down what's been happening and trying to make sense of it. It's easy to find myself steering by whatever is easily verbalizable, and to be drawn to the anxiety provoking and depressive.
But when there are a lot of things happening at once, and particularly when a lot of people who aren't me have strong opinions about me and what I'm doing and what's happening to me, that don't jive with what my own opinions about the situation are, sometimes it's nice to have the chance to try to unspool it. Am I a bad person? God, what a boring question! But I keep asking it and I keep trying to answer it, without success. As if I'd be capable of truly believing that I'm a bad person, no matter what I'd done. No one is. To exist is to be the end product of millions of years of evolution without the need for self-justification. Our philosophical attempts to determine whether our existence is worth it are just the thinnest possible layer of paint over a giant boulder of very, very old instincts to survive.
The tension of depression is, if you ask me, often the tension between the idea that maybe I am a bad person, against the deeper fundamental knowledge that I am not. And that knowledge isn't real knowledge--it's not coming from some real place--but it doesn't have to be. It is simply a thing our brains take for granted, like down is down and up is up, and you can fall down but you can't fall up. If I'm a bad person, shouldn't I kill myself? But no matter how deep the self-hatred runs, no matter how painful it is, it is also coming up against that ancient instinct for self-preservation, absolutely screeching in your mind like a railroad spike dragging over rock, and you cannot settle it. You can never settle it in favor of self-hatred. Suicide ends up being this response that depends on catastrophic moments; real suicidality can't last. The intensity of the urge ebbs away if the attempt is prevented by even a few minutes.
I have no idea how many patients I've seen after suicide attempts; it's too many to count, by now. But that's how it is. It's a moment that passes. Even if the self-hatred remains, because whatever led to the attempt isn't magically fixed, it's back to the ceaseless tension rather than unbearable certainty. And suicide is an attempt, very often, to fix that tension. People who look from the outside at someone who's so depressed they're catatonic think it must be a calm state, but it isn't. It's a hell of conflicting impulses. The impulse to love yourself against the impulse to hate yourself. The feeling that if you moved, you'd do something so horrible that you must not move.
I've been thinking a lot lately, so this is what I did everything for? I spent seven years in various circles of Hell so that I could be a doctor. Training to be a doctor was awful. It's bad for almost everyone, and it was horrendous for me, with my history of anxiety. Over and over again I thought about suicide. And over and over again I didn't go for it. I always had reasons. Sometimes they were very, very small. A new book. A cat to play with. Sometimes they were huge. I wanted to move home to a different kind of hell and take care of the queer and trans youth there in a way no one else would or had before. So I didn't kill myself, and I kept going, and I finally graduated residency. I thought, okay, maybe there's still lots of stress, but as I'm in practice longer, that will get better. Right?
And it's been 15 months now. And I'm depressed, and I'm tired, and I'm thinking, this? This is what I was holding out for?
But it isn't, really. I'm doing some of the things I meant to, but I'm also changing clinics because I feel like the one I'm at took all of the energy and time and love and, yes, money I threw at it--I made menstruation stations for the bathrooms at work, I put up little shelves and stocked them and re-stocked them over and over again with tampons and pads and Poopourri--and still tried to fuck me over four times in quick succession. And then asked me why I was so angry, and blamed me for my anger. Zero self-recognition or reflection.
And with changing clinics comes all of this guilt, all of this weight. And fear: what if it doesn't work out?
But I still have something to hold out longer for. I have this step next, and then when my commitment for partial loan repayment is up (it will still leave me with 220,000 dollars in educational debt, and that is with me having completely paid for undergrad between my scholarships and my parents and me working) I have another step. At that point I can drop to part time. And then I have another life to look forward to. More sleep. More hobbies. More writing.
Life is going to get better. For me; not necessarily for everyone. We need to make it so life gets better for everyone, but at least for now, for me, I can look at a time ahead where I won't want to die so much and so often.
I have very few good things to think about right now. Any direction my mind wanders down, there's guilt and fear. But there is going to come a day when I am living something much closer to the life I want to live.
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I know by 4x03 they hadn’t quite figured out where the angel story/Cas’ arc was ultimately leading, but I still find the events of that episode fascinating in the context of the greater arc of s4, which, incidentally, is my favourite season
Cas didn’t know what the angels were truly up to. He was still spouting the party line which was that Dean was going to be the one to “stop it.”
“Stop what?” Dean keeps asking. By the end of the episode it seems like Cas is talking about Sam and his powers, but that doesn’t quite track, or at least it doesn’t seem to fully explanation his motivations.
In 4x16 we learn that Cas had known about the prophecy, that “The Righteous Man who begins will be the only one who can end it,” since before he even went to hell to save Dean. In fact he thought he was going to hell to stop Dean from breaking the first seal. So when he’s telling Dean he needs to be the one to stop it, he means all of it: Sam, Lucifer, the Apocalypse. It’s a huge fucking burden to put on anyone’s shoulders, and it gives more weight to Cas’ fascination with Dean throughout the whole season.
He’s this symbol, The Righteous Man, the one who will stop it all, but the more Cas gets to know Dean, the more he sees the truth and gets caught up in all the contradictions and reality of who Dean really is. His insecurities, self-loathing, fears and yet also his determination, how he always fights for humanity, his unfailing loyalty towards his family. Dean is a complicated person, and with each interaction Cas finds himself more and more drawn to the real person, than the symbol, and the Dean Winchester he’s been told about.
You can see it start in this episode, and again, while I think that’s more a product of Misha’s acting and him imbuing certain scenes with something deeper than anything the actual textual storytelling was doing at this point, considering his arc throughout the rest of the season, I still think it begins here. With him trying to understand Dean’s desperation to save his mother at any cost. Cas knows he won’t be able to, that “destiny can’t be changed” and “all roads lead to the same destination” but in that one moment when he’s watching Dean’s grief at having to witness Mary making the deal with the Yellow Eyed Demon, the deal that’s going to lead to so much pain and suffering for his entire family, you can definitely see Cas sympathise with Dean and struggle with what he’s going through.
The next time we see Cas, he admits to having doubts, to wanting Dean’s faith in himself and humanity to win out over the machinations of heaven and the angels. The last time Cas interacted with Dean before this was during 4x03, and while I do think his doubts and questions are coming from his struggles with what is right and wrong, for the first time, he feels like he has someone to confide in, someone who is encouraging him in challenging his orders. He has someone to turn to with his doubts, and while I don’t think Cas is in any way considering the idea of rebelling just yet, for the first time in his existence, he had someone to turn to if he does.
The fact that it’s Dean, and the fact he’s developed this strong of a trust and connection with him in the space of a few encounters is absolutely bonkers, and yet the way the show (and Jensen and Misha, because they are really bringing their A game to this stuff) present it, it makes complete sense and feels utterly earned. Just the quality storytelling in s4, man... I love it so much.
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Show Log: Ninjago Masters of Spinjitzu Pt.2
If you don't know the drill these are my thoughts opinions and reactions during my first watch through of Ninjago Masters of Spinjitzu. I made one of these a couple of days ago and I'm back with so many more thoughts. Also spoilers, duh, for up to the episode listed below, and please no spoilers! We good? Good.
Season 2 Episode 14:
• I told you I'd riot. Grab your pitchforks my boy has lost his whimsy. I'm damn near certain at this point.
• Lloyd Garmadon loves his dad and genuinely believed that he'd break through to him, and he did, for a moment, but then his dad, who Lloyd believed to be all powerful, failed to fully break through.
•The pain in Lloyd's eyes (shut up shut up shut up, I know they're Legos) as the Overlord took control again and told Lloyd his father was gone. The way the line was delivered to be saw raw and wrong as Lloyd got overwhelmed and lost consciousness.
• The way he limped over to the shoreline immediately after waking up and how serious he's gotten. I just-- why must you torture my boy, he's just a kid.
• Give him one parent but take away another I think the fuck not. (I'm conflicted more on Lloyd's mama later) Give my boy his dad back, please.
• I think the only reason they aged Lloyd up was so that much pressure and stress wasn't portrayed on a literal elementary school aged kid. But guess what, and say it with me, 14/15 year olds are still just kids and should not be put in life changing and traumatizing scenarios.
• Additionally, destiny was talked about like a deity this episode, if "destiny" has a form as the Overlord did this episode I will give a swift kick to the groin for my boy Lloyd because what the ever loving fuck? The baby, the boy, my boy.
• Also Nya. My blorbo, my babygirl, my favorite girl. They turned her evil??? They turned her evil.
• SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T FALL OFF THE CLIFF. Not cool. Not fucking cool.
• But she called after both Jay and Kai as they fell which is very important to me. It shows that she cares about both of them when in other media the "damsel in distress" might only call after her love interest, a lame trope imo.
• She then got kidnapped and fed pure darkness. Like what the hell? Not my Nya, not my girl. The boys are fucked, truly, they lost their girl. The one that makes them tech and upgrades their shit with better combat skills shown canonically, they're so screwed.
• I'm fairly certain she could've kicked their asses but whatever invincible soldiers with their invincibleness and Nya without any super weapons or tech.
• She said goodbye forever but istg if Jay and Kai don't rescue her and find a way to bring her back I'm gonna send a strongly worded email to Ninjago productions and explain why they single handedly ruined their show.
• Because brilliant, beautiful Nya has on multiple occasions carried the entirety of the Ninjago Masters and they would collapse without her. Additionally I believe good written women in what is primarily a show written for boys is incredibly important because it portrays women as complex and strong people which they fucking are.
• Also Jay's character writing is giving me whiplash (more on that later) but I think he's back to normal now?
• Nya got kidnapped and he lost his shit as any good boyfriend would do. They kiss but haven't put a label on it and Nya means the world to him and it shows in the show consistently. Very nice, I appreciate.
• I feel like Kai's reaction should've been a little stronger after they all fell into the sea, because him screaming Nya's name and then acting calm and rational was, ngl, kinda weird kinda suspect.
• but then again no one believes in Nya more than Kai. Kai knows his sister and that she is stronger than most of the team and smarter than most of them too.
• That being said it feels likely that he felt a need to stay strong and focused so they didn't all fall apart as well which with my interpretation forgives the initial reaction.
Season 2 episode 6 - 13:
• Lloyd's mom dropped him off as a baby to the Darkley's Boarding School for Bad Boys. As a baby. I was right. His attachment style is anxious avoidant. It's plain as day when he interacts with his mom.
• At least she's back now and supportive as she appears to love her son. Hopefully she's not evil and doesn't betray him. I don't think she is so far she's pretty motherly and seems to have a thing for Wu.
• She's a homie hopper. Likes both brothers.
• It's not cool how she said she chose the wrong brother though because Lloyd wouldn't have been born is what I got from that, my own mommy issues peeking through I presume. But Lloyd is such a good boy, legitimately, so he deserves appreciation.
• Also I'm pretty sure Lloyd doesn't get what's going on between Wu and his mom because when he asked her "So how'd you meet him" she replied with "Who, Wu?" And he went "what? no. My dad.😐"
• This proves, to me, that his mind is not at a teenager level of development yet as his body is. That or he has no exposure to romantic situations and therefore doesn't know the social cues. Yet again, my boy didn't deserve this and also he's just like me fr fr?
•Zane's dad is alive!!! Woohoo!! And he's adorable an adorable inventor.
• And the sanest insane person I have ever seen. I mean mans went I'm not a fighter and then proceeded to fly the blimp into Garmadon's face. I love him.
• Also his story reminds me of the Greek myth of Icarus and Icarus' dad. Because he was locked in a tower gaurded by a monster and told to invent in order to see his son again.
• I am in love with Zane's dad. Literally like 💍🧎
• He's so, y'know smart and loving and shit. He's also ambitious, patient and slightly insane so my type.
• If there are more parallels I'll cry. *death glaring at Zane* please don't fly too close to the sun I will be annihilated on spot.
• Cole is so comfortable with his dancing now, not him moonwalking and singing over enemies after he got his weapon back he's so silly.
•Just a little guy who likes to sing, dance, and beat up bad guys.
• Why did they turn Jay's idiot meter up so high?
• Like my mans was fully just dumb dumb baby there for a bit there. "I don't pack clean undies. Like my mommy advices cause real men only wear one :P."
• Like bbg. No. Nya deserves better, you have to keep using that brain you goofy goober, you can't just lose you braincells because she likes you---- *sudden self-realization* oh no...
• Additionally his cowardice seems to be heightened. Which understandable the boys are going through the wringer in terms of stressful situations. Which once again say it with me, teenagers are still kids, and you should not chuck them into dangerous, traumatizing, experiences. You will cause psychological issues for the rest of their lives. Woo.
• Also Jay's parents are so real for telling him he's not allowed to save Ninjago unless he eats his veggies. 🫡🫡🫡
• god this is unhinged and I sound like a 27 year old dad, I'm 18 wtf?
• Nya my beloved builds so much cool surprises and shit and Jay is always so pumped for them <333 I love them.
#ninjago#masters of Spinjitzu#lloyd garmadon#lord garmadon#kai#nya#zane#cole#show Log#first watch#please no spoilers#i fear this is going to become increasingly unhinged#i may be a bit....#insane#after all#this is a literal kids show#about legos#i shouldn't cry over legos
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Chapter Four: The Retinue of Moons/The Infidel is Me Pt. 3
“I’m going to ask, do you remember when Great Uncle Oscar withdrew some of your blood to figure out what you were?” Freddy asked to get Dolly ready for what was about to be revealed.
“Yes and we all know what happened afterward when he threatened to sell me to the government.” Dolly stated rather unfondly of the past incident entirely.
“Well…I sort’ve broke into said Great Uncle’s room, stole the vial of your blood and used some of that blood in two experiments.” Freddy said as he lifted a statue out of the crate and placed it in front of Dolly.
The Statue looked like a smallish stylized lion from a cartoon in the fetal position as Freddy tapped the transmutation circle on its forehead. The hardened surface quickly started to soften as the Leonoid thing began to move out of its fetal position. The coloration was a rather delightful tint of corpse green with a texture to match as gold orbs bubbled up from the clay mess to serve as eyes. Truly, this creature would’ve been considered conventionally adorable had it not been the blunt, jagged shards of strawberry quartz serving as teeth as it let out a banshee screech.
“Freddy you made THAT with my BLOOD!?” Dolly exclaimed as the horrible little clay sin against nature toddled over to Freddy and promptly started chewing on his arm in retribution.
“Would you believe that this one was the friendlier of the two that were made?” Freddy calmly said, not even reacting to the painful arm chewing that was going on.
“What the hell were you thinking Freddy!?” Dolly yelled out mortified that her blood was used as an ingredient and more importantly, it was used to make this horrible little monster.
“I was thinking you needed a companion of some kind, Gort! Look, I’m sort’ve dumb when it comes to social stuff, but even I know that the family drifting apart to other places as taken a toll on you. There is that and the fact you likely won’t ever die, you need to have at least one thing that is a constant companion for your own wellbeing Gort!” Freddy burst out fully, tears in his eyes from concern.
The soft gnawings from the horrible clay monstrosity was the only sound from the apartment as Dolly and Freddy just stared each other down. Slowly getting up, Dolly pushed her chair in and carefully walked over to Freddy. Gently and calmly, Dolly carefully gave Freddy a hug, catching Freddy right off guard as did the horrible little monster. In turn, Freddy slowly gave Dolly an one armed hug in return.
“Freddy, I’m so sorry to have worried you like that. That was a very kind thing you’ve done for me even if it is concerning that you used my blood as an alchemical ingredient.” Dolly began as she assured Freddy of no real hard feelings.
“Okay, that was a bit too far, but it worked, it stabilized the two successful products. Sure Ernest is apparently an unholy terror at the lab he was sent to, but I got lucky with Dorian.” Freddy admitted as he pointed to the abomination called Dorian who resumed chewing on Freddy’s arm.
“Well, what are you going to do? These guys are expecting you to make a Philosopher’s Stone and I don’t think my blood is gonna cut it.” Dolly explained, becoming worried now at the prospect.
“I’m a brilliant alchemist, I’m sure it’ll pan out just fine and who knows, maybe I can use the stone to adjust Dorian’s temperament better. Plus we have the stone fragments here, so I can just study the samples to see if I can replicate it.” Freddy said confidently as Dorian increased the pressure on the arm mauling.
“Yeah, remember what your ‘friend’ said? That bag had to be empty by tomorrow.” Dolly pointed out, Dorian noticing the bag immediately.
Dorian let go of Freddy’s arm as he toddled over to the bag, ripped it open, and started stuffing his disgusting clay maul with the red stones. The sight was a show in itself as Dolly and Freddy watched Dorian inhale the stones, every single last nugget. All that remained of the stones was a shredded bag as Dorian sat down, peaceful for a change instead of going back to mauling. Freddy was in full awe of the little bundle of hate filled clay was passive for a change when Dorian opened his horribly wet and sludge like mouth, strawberry quartz poking out.
“Asss….Hole….” Dorian gargled out as he pointed right at Freddy.
“Congrats God, your creation can now curse you out.” Dolly remarked, stunned that Dorian can now speak.
“This is great! Dorian can speak now!” Freddy said in pure joy, the fact of being called an asshole flew right over his head.
“Well that and I guess we found Dorian’s kibble…” Dolly said, still stunned for words after such a short time span of one day.
“You’re getting more kibble for Dorian, right?” Freddy asked immediately.
“Yes, but first, I’m looking at your arm, right now.” Dolly stated as she pulled the sleeve on Freddy up to examine the mauling.
“Dolly no!” Freddy protested as his arm was revealed to be riddled with dents marks and bruising from the mauling.
“And we’re going to the doctor tomorrow morning.” Dolly said nonchalantly upon seeing that.
Freddy pitched a fit as Dolly went to the phone to arrange a doctor’s appointment in the morning to thoroughly check on Freddy’s arm. During that time, right next door, Envy was still grinning smugly as Lust tore into them about the stunt. Envy hadn’t cared about the reaction Lust would have after the impromptu visit, shoveling some red stones into their mouth. It was all worth it to put Dolly in her place after humiliating them twice and triggering that memory flash back.
#Fullmetal Alchemist#FMA 03#Fan Fiction#FMA Fan Fiction#Envy the Jealous#Envy#Lust the Lascivious#Lust#Gluttony the Voracious#Gluttony#OCs#Writing#Homunculus#Homunculi#The Wayfarer
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LTA: Velma
So, after years of going against the majority, I found something that truly broke me. When it comes to shows deemed the worst ever, I want to save that label for something that clearly wasn't compounded by internal issues. I want to save it for something that was released as it was intended, had the budget necessary to make it, is a full complete product, and most of all, lacks any endurability.
Velma has to be the worst show I have ever... heard of. Yeah I haven't seen the show, just some in-depth reviews, but look at it like this. I don't have an account on HBO Max, it's a waste of money at this point, and said reviews show me everything I need to know about it. Frankly watching a full episode is more painful than the average JayExci video.
Here's what I know of it, along with any other tidbits I could find.
Divider
I went into Velma with one question in mind, is this the worst HBO Max show ever, is this worse than Santa Inc.? Technically, yes, at least on IMDb this has a slightly lower rating than Santa Inc. Problem solved, short answer.
Long answer, Velma is part of a continuing trend of, well, adapting existing properties to suit the audiences of today, in a case of what I'd like to call... outrage marketing. People see a recurring trend of those losing their shit with beloved properties having characters portrayed by those of different races, they take to YouTube and Twitter to complain, and boom, free publicity, and if anyone dares to criticize it, they would be the assholes in that regard.
Before the show came out, I could swear I saw some people show anger over people being angry with the show, but that was a while ago so I won't say anything more on that. From the first trailer, I understood that the creators had nothing but spite in mind, why else would it feature someone complaining about a reboot doing race swapping? I had expected this show to do well with its target audience, with outrage from the cirque du Quartering, Geeks and Gamers and No Bullshit... then the show came out.
If Velma didn't kill the good will of modern reboots, it certainly left a huge gash in the prospect. Barring professional critic reviews because those are typically bullshit, nobody liked Velma, at all, and as the first season went on it only got worse, and worse, and worse, and I was thinking, Scooby-Doo is the luckiest dog in the world to not get involved with this.
If you want full episode reviews, check out those by MJTanner, she does a good job at bringing up the worst of the show.
From the beginning, this series was created by comedian Mindy Kaling, The Office, The Mindy Project, The some other things I haven't heard of. Mindy has based her aura on pure snark with some hidden spite for those around her, and if that's just a blind generalization, Velma is not gonna do any favors.
This is a dark take on Scooby-Doo, something that the series has never been a stranger to. I love the direct-to-video Scooby-Doo movies, as in those from the 90s because there's a hell of a lot more that I'd be indirectly pointing out. Mystery Incorporated... not so much, honestly I feel as though it surrendered to cliches and tried too hard in certain areas, seriously, who was clambering for a romantic subplot with Shaggy and Velma?
Hey, remember that Daphne and Velma movie that nobody talks about anymore?
I bring up Mystery Incorporated because I feel as though Velma takes some elements from it, at least indirectly. For starters, Fred has corrupt parents, or at least a corrupt father of sorts, and by the end of the season it turns out one of his parents is evil. That Shaggy and Velma thing, well now that has been swapped around, 'Norville', having been dragged into being something for Velma to latch onto after another leech sponge got away from her, wants her bad, she doesn't, frankly a night with her may lead to a murder mystery in and of itself.
Let's make this clear, Velma is a bitch, to put it lightly, either that or she is used as a vessel for the world to see the true Mindy Kaling, no wait that is exactly true. I'd be saying this about her no matter my race, creed, sexuality, and anything else that may apply.
Velma feels like a forced deconstruction of Scooby-Doo at large, along with other teen dramas. But why assume when you can hear most characters illustrate that aura off the bat? The blood of meta humor lays on She-Hulk and Velma's hands. And of course they go into common cliches of shows that approach social issues, things are handed to you on a silver platter if you're a man, those of other races deserve to be implicated for supervising young girls, some other things that left my head because only the worst elements shall remain.
Even the prospect of a murder mystery seems like a wet fart, and a cliche in and of itself, you have an adult-themed Scooby-Doo series, of course someone's gonna be murdered.
In terms of actor trivia, the only other one I recognize is Glenn Howerton, like fuck dude did you love That 80s Show so much you wanted desperately to land a more contemptuous role to justify it?
The animation is good, bar any technical aspects picked up by more keen eyes, but that just makes it worse. I picked up a complex where if I see anything too expressive, I get agitated, and this show has a ton of hammy expressions throughout it.
One last thing I could say, people claim Scooby-Doo is not part of this, beyond an acronym cameo, but I have a feeling that if there is gonna be a season two, that girl they threw in, Gigi... the whole thing was that someone has been stealing the brains of various girls, and Velma's mom happened to be in on it, at least to be an accomplice of sorts, and since Scooby-Doo isn't in this...
If in season 2 Velma switches Gigi's brain with that of a great dane to prevent any chances of Norville getting back with her, people would be grateful to not have seen Scooby-Doo to start with. For all I know if they can have two cockroaches do it, they'd have someone take doggy style to a whole new level.
But Why is Velma the Worst?
Admittedly some would latch onto the claim that Velma defiled childhoods everywhere and that everyone is mean, and while I do see that as a legitimate issue, but for my reason, let's lay out some context.
Take every show or game that has the aura of female comedians who happen to not be very funny, socio political commentary or just an all round toxic atmosphere, Magical Girl Friendship Squad, Our Cartoon President, Steven Universe, Santa Inc, Life is Strange, High Guardian Spice, Deadend Paranormal Park... I dunno, Biatches!, what do these shows have in common? One thing and one thing only.
You get what you paid for.
Yeah, a majority of these shows aren't very good, but you know what you can expect with them, that is on the nose references to political happenings, dick jokes, and stuff.
With Velma, you go into this expecting some socio-commentary, that trailer, Judy Jetson goddamnit, but you don't go expecting cringe meta humor, overly on the nose commentary with little of that metaness, a hokey twist and Velma setting South-Asians back, I'm tempting fate here, but do you want someone like Mindy Kaling, excuse me, Velma, to serve as a voice of any kind to anyone.
I don't give that implication, but I do want to see people be represented, I do, my problem is that the worst possible people are used as a voice for them, and of course the kinds of people those shows attract that poison the well, so to speak. Honestly, maybe the professional critics should hear fans out, for everything in life holds a kernel of truth.
The truth is, even if this show gets a second season, how could anyone climb out of this? How can anyone justify this (beyond it being non-cannon)? What good has this show done other than pleasing Mindy? Is Glenn Howerton becoming the new Cam Clarke?
Point is, no matter where people lean or what background they come from, Velma is a painful experience, that can only truly be enjoyed by one extreme or the other.
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HI!!! Okay so i'm at like chapter 14 so i know i'm not finished but I was thinking - you talked about how the use of elixirs only became normalized out of necessity, right?? so hypothetically after link defeats ganon that necessity *might* go away, hurdling dark magic (and thus our lovely reader) off the fence and back into shunned territory. what would curio think about this, if anything??? (that's just my thought process ofc, i don't expect it to be canon, but i couldn't shake the delicious possibility for ✨angst✨)
Helloo
Damn don't make fun of me but I have no idea how many chapters there even are in the story at this point uhhhhh it's 22? really? Wow
Without the bloodmoon resurrecting the monsters every so often, I suppose the monster population would decline, but I don't know that the demand for elixirs would necessarily drop. Provided people are less in need of healing their wounds, they'll still need the temperature control ones, and those stamina boosting ones are useful in more contexts than just fighting, and so on.
Honestly, since monster parts are major ingredients, and monsters don't just magically grow on trees anymore, I could kind of see a future where scarcity and over-hunting become an issue, haha. Since Curio is grossed out by elixirs (magic sensitivity and reluctance to consume sapient life) and also stands to gain a lot once demand shoots up (sells herbal medicine, which works alright, if less effective than elixirs, AND for cheap)..... Curio would be smug as hell and sitting pretty. Just as long as public opinion didn't come down hard on dark magic, huh?
Curio's relationship with the Hylian people has always been uneasy. The big settlements are used to the shenanigans, the little ones are easy to bully into submission or ignore. On the individual level, opinion is divided. Most people agree the products are good, and that's enough to keep the complaints at bay. If everyone banded together to shut Curio out, though, that'd be the end of everything.
I think Curio would be heartbroken (and horribly bitter, angry, and self-righteous about it. Those despicable fools and so forth) to be rejected so thoroughly. Make no mistake, for all the grousing that goes on in this story about Hylians, Curio really does want to be accepted by them, and to live and work among them! In chapter 18, there's a short aside about a time where Curio tried to use necromancy for a heroic cause, and how poorly that turned out. Curio has already attempted to change to be more palatable to people, keeping most of the darker stuff on the down low. Maybe that tactic could work twice. Give up the general store, become a recluse, start selling curses and such to desperate or cruel people. If Curio couldn't even cling to that, and coexistence was truly impossible, the only paths forward are to go into hiding and become completely absorbed in study, like some sort of necrohermit, or outright villainy. I guess it depends on if the circumstances leading up to this situation provoke more pain or more anger, hahaha
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