I figured to try my luck since the show ended 4 months ago haha! Looking for any Byclair truthers out here since apparently this fandom is deathly allergic to anything that isn't byler with Will ships. I'm not here to riot about ships tbh, these two shared untouched potential of sharing more things in common and we are not going to wait for Mike Fumbler/j to wait around to get his shit together
I prefer my partners and characters to be 18+, most likely our roleplays will take them in adulthood since they canonically graduated in 1989! Including material that may be sensitive to explore,
I write semi lit to advanced literate! My activity been on and off, if you feel like taking a break or want to move on just tell me!! I'll consider taking this into long-term if you need to, keep in contact or I'll eventually drop the RP altogether.
We can do canon adjacent plots from season 5, AUs, or crossovers!
lucas sinclair, who is a dark-skinned black man in the middle of nowhere indiana
lucas, who most definitely has been othered all of his life
lucas who, even when surrounded by people he trusts, so rarely sees himself reflected in them
lucas, who has always been an outcast in ways the others aren’t, in ways that are more – god knows he’s been called much worse things than freak
lucas, who has seen people avoiding his touch, crossing the street when he’s walking, distrusting him like it’s a default setting
lucas, who knows what it’s like to do everything right and still be looked at like he’s wrong
lucas, who hears will saying he’s not like them and gets it in ways the others can’t
lucas, who knows will is going to experience all of the same things – the othering, the distrust, the mistreatment, the slurs, the being avoided like the mere touch of you could kill, the dangers that come with just being – despite the differences in their circumstances
lucas who, even if he’d ever felt some kind of way about queerness, would grab that feeling and squeeze the life out of it because that right there is will. his will.
his in the way all of lucas’ people are his. his to carry when unconscious, his to tackle out of the way, his to use himself as bait, his to take a slashing to the chest, his to jump over tables and traps and interdimensional monsters. his to protect, his to kill for, his to die for.
lucas sinclair who of course is the first one to say you won’t ever lose me – who also means i’m here, i love you, there’s nothing wrong with you, i’ll protect you, i’ll stand by you, i understand you
lucas sinclair, who is a dark-skinned black man in the middle of nowhere indiana
lucas, who most definitely has been othered all of his life
lucas who, even when surrounded by people he trusts, so rarely sees himself reflected in them
lucas, who has always been an outcast in ways the others aren’t, in ways that are more – god knows he’s been called much worse things than freak
lucas, who has seen people avoiding his touch, crossing the street when he’s walking, distrusting him like it’s a default setting
lucas, who knows what it’s like to do everything right and still be looked at like he’s wrong
lucas, who hears will saying he’s not like them and gets it in ways the others can’t
lucas, who knows will is going to experience all of the same things – the othering, the distrust, the mistreatment, the slurs, the being avoided like the mere touch of you could kill, the dangers that come with just being – despite the differences in their circumstances
lucas who, even if he’d ever felt some kind of way about queerness, would grab that feeling and squeeze the life out of it because that right there is will. his will.
his in the way all of lucas’ people are his. his to carry when unconscious, his to tackle out of the way, his to use himself as bait, his to take a slashing to the chest, his to jump over tables and traps and interdimensional monsters. his to protect, his to kill for, his to die for.
lucas sinclair who of course is the first one to say you won’t ever lose me – who also means i’m here, i love you, there’s nothing wrong with you, i’ll protect you, i’ll stand by you, i understand you
rewatching some jancy scenes in an edit and i just realized in s1, after they cut their hands to bait the demogorgon, they bandage up their hands, right? but nancy's bandage is cleaner and more secure, while jonathan's is just a single, one-way wrap around his knuckles.
the wrap around nancy's hand is the perfect example of a figure of 8 bandaging—but the one around jonathan's, bless nancy's soul, could possibly be too tight or too limiting for the patient (especially since she put the lock in the web space between his index finger and thumb). there's a decent chance jonathan's just saying that no, it's not that tight to not make nancy feel guilty.
anyways MY POINT IS: this means jonathan knows first aid—but nancy doesn't. prime example of show, not tell.
not that it's a bad thing to not know first aid, of course, but regardless this is a neat, subtle detail i've just now noticed.
i don't know why this devastates me so much. but if we think about it in the context of the byers...
EDIT: dr. mike, a renowned doctor on youtube, uploaded a video reacting to injuries in stranger things earlier today:
jonathan being the only one thinking about disinfecting before trying to get the mindflayer out of el's wound in S3... mhm
the last thing el said to hopper was “i’m not sara.” she gave him back her bracelet. she let him believe she was safe. she never said goodbye to the man who chose to be her father.
she never said goodbye to the mother who took her in when she had nothing, the woman who inducted her into her family with a haircut everyone made fun of but she treasured as her own.
she never said goodbye to the older brother who looked after her in an unfamiliar home, who drove blindly into the desert on the idea of hope that they would find her.
she never said goodbye to her best friend, the only girl who ever took the time to try to understand her, the only girl who wanted to help her learn who she was to herself, the girl whose life she refused to let end before its time.
she never said goodbye to the boys who found her in the woods, the boys who were scared of her at first but who became some of her most trusted friends in the world. the boys who saw her as, yes, a hero, but also as a girl, too.
she never said goodbye to her brother, her twin in everything but genetics, who saved her life as she saved his from the monster who destroyed both their childhoods. she never said goodbye to her real brother, the one who understood her to her core, the one who showed her that the monster was not the family she deserved.
she said goodbye to her sister, after a years-long separation, as she bled out in her arms.
the last thing el said before her final goodbye—to the first boy who ever showed her kindness, the boy who never quite understood her the way she wanted him to but who cared for her regardless—was “i love you.” and she never heard it back.
The same company behind the Golden Globes also owns Variety so when Sinners got snubbed in the major categories, it wasn’t a surprise to me. They didn’t televise their “Best Score” award and they couldn’t erase the film’s impact at the box office, so they handed it the one award that couldn’t be argued with. That “Cinematic and Box Office Achievement” award felt less like recognition and more like a “here damn y’all got the numbers but don’t expect us to respect the artistry of the film.”
Not entirely sure if I like it. I might give it a few retouches tomorrow and see how i feel about it. This was supposed to be a powerswap doodle but it ended up turning into a silly fit exchange.
my first ever dispatch fanart and it took me 3 days, but hey, Flambae in heels, okay? also Prism is gorgeous im on my hands and knees for her
caleb x femreader | post wayward wonderland, marathon sex | minors dni
his muscles ache something serious, caleb is convinced that he’s never exerted himself so much before this. since he was old enough to purchase his own gym membership, he’s been consistent in moving his body and hitting pr lifts at the gym. he’s an active guy and that stamina is something he built over the course of years yet he’s sweating. he’s busting a sweat the longer he goes, fucking you into the mattress like it’s his one sole purpose on this earth. sometimes he believes that it is.
he couldn’t help it. it was inevitable after watching you twirl in the big wedding dress that was prepared, after sliding that ring down your knuckle. dreams always felt so unattainable to caleb because he had a tendency to go big or go home. it was that ambition that helped him pass aviation school with flying colors. still, he never thought it would get him to where he was at now.
nothing melted his brain quite like this. from the day his mind strayed from innocence and developed into something greater, from the moment he felt that nauseating feeling of love and desire— this is what he wanted. you were the picture of beauty without trying, his fantasy wrapped in pure white and lace and diamonds.
the echoing replay of your voice accepting his vow, responding to his deepest wishes is what made him cum the first round. it was embarrassingly fast, only a few minutes after he managed to get you onto the bed with your back sinking in the plaid duvet. he got a few good thrusts in before he hastily pulled out, painting your lower tummy in his seed after hurriedly pushing the fabric of your dress up to your ribs. surely not his proudest moment but he knew you’d cut him the slack.
second time around wasn’t all that impressive either, cock somehow still so hard and red. blaming it on how overwhelmed he was with the meaningful day was the safest bet. he fucked you slow, using every muscle he’s spent his free time fine tuning to give you what he’s always wanted you to feel. spilling his love into you, pumping you snug and full.
“caleb,” you breathe his name, barely audible yet he’d always catch it. he came when you called, it was a sixth sense to him that he unlocked when you were just kids and needed more help than you’d care to admit. it was his favorite sound and he lifts his head up not even a second later to catch sight of your beautiful eyes. “we can take a break, don’t hurt yourself.”
god, he almost scoffed right in your face. this was his confession to you even if he had already poured his guts out time and time again. this was his true seal of love, passion, lust. he was doing what a good husband should by taking care of his lady and putting her to sleep on her happiest day. he was making you feel special and the thought of tapping out just because he was breaking a little bit of a sweat? ridiculous.
“i’m making love to you,” he whispers with a simple, weak shake of his head. that familiar red hue blooms along the tips of his ears, coats his neck and shoulders. he’s bare aside from his signature chain, now paired with his wedding band. he finds your hand, hovered over you, watching with hazy purple eyes as a drop of his sweat lands on your collarbone. he kept you in your wedding dress and veil, wanted to savor the sight some more.
“let me make love to my wife, huh? doing what i said i would. you need to feel how much i love you.”
it was to be expected. caleb was headstrong, went hard for the things he cared about. there was no sense in arguing against him when he got like this, even if he’s panting hot along the curve of your neck and even if his hips are stuttering with every sloppy thrust.
the bed set below was a goner— beyond repair with all of the cum and juice smeared on it from the various positions caleb squeezed you into. it was raw and real, the kind of sex that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and toes curl up so hard that they nearly cramp. springs creak with how deep he hauls his hips into you, groans freely leaving his swollen lips because he’s taking what he’s wanted all of his life.
“get to do this to you every single night,” he finds your ear, planting a gentle kiss to your lobe as his tip probes your cervix. it almost hurts but your legs wrap around him nonetheless, heeled shoe digging into his lower back. “i get to make you cry like this for the rest of my life. you’re mine to kiss and hold and fuck forever.”
the walls of the room feel as though they’re closing in with every word, the realization that he is officially bound to you making you cum another round. white cream coats his dick and he lets out a hiss at how visible your approval is, how your body is talking back to him and letting him see for himself just how happy you are.
“yeah, me too, honey,” his lips plant gentle kisses along your jaw to your chin, sweet and soft the same way it has been and always will be. “don’t gotta say a word, just breathe. i know. i’m happy too.”
vaporwave
areudirty
kianamaiart
dededos
janainaart
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
