#I do feel bad for the babeys too

[seven-thewanderer]

Okay I cannot sleep, and I need to do something, so here’s the lore of Sundrop & Moondrop that I promised to give before I left last time, that I failed to give:

Okay so Sundrop & Moondrop, not the Sun & Moon we all know and love, but baby versions of them, were prototypes for Sun & Moon. They were the final prototypes before making the actual Sun & Moon (which they were probably more prototypes to try & figure out how to make their tall bodies), but they were the final ones to test out what they would do, and to plan them out. They had stomach hatches to store things like bandaids, candies, crayons, and more, and they had little scanners on their chest*, so that if one had gotten important information about a kid, like their allergies & other stuff, they would transfer it through the sensors, by hugging for example. Though these characters were prototypes for Sun & Moon, this was before they started working with bigger models to test them out, because they had a limited amount of endoskeletons to use, so they used some extra tiny ones that were originally for the wind-up music men. Sundrop & Moondrop also had no voices, because they didn’t want to permanently give their voice boxes, as they were limited on those as well. Sundrop & Moondrop were around for a while, so that they could test out certain things, like the stomach hatches, their tails (which were later scrapped, but weren’t removed from their blueprints, so Sun & Moon ended up getting tails anyways, but they weren’t supposed to), and their back loops. However, once they had gotten the idea for everything they needed, they decided to decommission the 2. But, to be nice, they decided they’d let the 2 say goodbye to the other animatronics beforehand.

But, here’s the thing:

they never got to say goodbye to anyone.

As they were wandering, they found Vanny. They were confused, thinking she was a new animatronic, so they were going to say bye to them as well, but she picked them up, and snuck into the Pizzaplex’s basement with them. There, Peepaw William/Glitchtrap decided to test out his virus on them, and it had worked. Glitchtrap was going to then try & get every animatronic infected with this virus, but he had to do it one by one. So, he decided to go for Foxy next, because he thought that Foxy should be easy to get. As he successfully got Foxy under his virus control, he noticed that he had strange control over Bonnie to.

*Now, remember when I stated that the 2 little ones had a scanner on their chests that could transfer information? It transfers the coding from one bot to another! But it doesn’t require 2 sensors to touch to share the information, just 1 sensor needs to touch something that can accept the coding. So something that could accept the coding could be the other animatronics, and another coding that they could share could be William’s virus. All they had to do was touch their chest up to another bot, and transfer the virus, and what easier way than to pull them into a little hug? As Glitchtrap was getting Foxy under their control, Sundrop & Moondrop had found Bonnie, and Sundrop hugged his legs. This transferred the virus to him, and basically led to the great brawl of Bonnie & Monty. Once Glitchtrap noticed the ability of the 2 Drops, he used it to his advantage. However, he didn’t know that there were 2 witnesses to these infections: an orange Wind-Up DJ Music Man, who was talking to Foxy beforehand, and Moon, who was doing his nightly security check. The Music Man didn’t know what had happened, because Foxy randomly tried to attack him, and he couldn’t explain why, but Moon, when he saw what had happened to Bonnie, slowly pieced things together.

As the Drops went back to Glitchy’s lair (aka the basement), Moon followed along, to try & get what was happening. Once he heard about the virus, he panicked, and decided that he needed to tell Sun, and as he went to go sneak away, he accidentally stepped on something: and old scrapped concept of a Sundrop Squeaker Toy. Moon had to then run from the basement to the daycare, with a rabbit & 2 babies chasing after him. Somehow he managed to get caught by a baby, because Sun didn’t hear him banging on the daycare doors to be let in, so Moondrop hugged his leg, but not long enough to give him a full-on virus, but long enough to give him half a virus, a personality-like virus: Snow Moon.

Now I think that’s basically enough, since that shows that the Drops are technically evil (sorry to anyone that saw & wanted to take care of the beans, yeah they’re evil), here’s some information about them separately!

Sundrop:

Sundrop was very energetic, just like Sun, and loves to get attention. He wasn’t that much of a perfectionist, but he did like to keep things in order. Sundrop also had an extreme sweet tooth, and loved eating as much candy as possible. Sundrop cared a lot for Moondrop, and would’ve done anything to protect him. Sundrop also loved hanging out with the other animatronics, and having fun with them, like riding in race cars with Roxy (he’s too smol to drive his own), trying to bowl with Bonnie, and going on “adventures” with Foxy. Sundrop loved hanging out with those he cared about, and it was his favorite thing to do.

Moondrop:

Moondrop was shy, just like Moon, but also loved to get attention. Moondrop had a fear of heights, because of when they were testing out the back loops, and the wire was too strong & launched him into the air. He was traumatized ever since. Moondrop loved to do anything, but only if his brother was involved too. Moondrop always stayed alongside Sundrop, and Sundrop had no problem with that.

Though they didn’t speak & they didn’t have nicknames for each other, Solar did have nicknames for them, since he was made before them:

Solar’s nicknames for Sundrop:

Sun

Suncake

Sugardrop

Sunny

Solar’s nicknames for Moondrop:

Moon

Mooncake

Moony

Solar’s nicknames for them both:

Drops

Droplets

Celestial Drops

Star Drops

anyways, that’s it for Sundrop & Moondrop, the 2 evil corrupted babies

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Anyway prohibitedwish dark medieval mystery drama au. The story is interjected every so often by prismo and scarab arguing over what should happen next

[nonstandardrepertoire]

i am listening to a new arrangement of The Rite of Spring for wind band and it's hard b/c on the one hand i'm not sure i love this arrangement but on the other i also really don't like the interpretation, and it's a little hard for me to figure out whether i would think the arrangement better if it were conducted more to my taste

[romanceyourdemons]

see i absolutely Cannot start having thoughts about water margin right now. i’m not even halfway through romance of the three kingdoms, and for some ungodly reason i’ve started three (3) other books in the meantime with another one on the way in from interlibrary loan. i need to stay scared. i need to be so scared all the time

[whorenerdking]

I’m feeling so fucking seen by a stupid fanfic that’s it’s making me feel worse about myself than I already do. anyway I’m gonna go drive my car off a cliff.

[urcrookedneighbor]

Undertake the exercise yourself. Hell, even look into the disability rights movement and understand what deinstitutionalization activists and advocates have said and fought for. But seek to imagine what a rehabilitating justice system would look like.

And also question your assumption that the status quo is at all effective at protecting the victims of crime x? Like Freakanomics is not a reliable source for the things that it says are true (e.g. their assertion that the decline in crime rates is attributable to two factors alone: the legalization of abortion in the US in the 70s and the police.) but the If Books Could Kill podcast did an excellent episode providing the context for the claims made in that book that the book fails to provide. What has criminology research found? What do we think makes us safer? What has been found to be closely correlated with increased "safety"? Crime rates aren't one to one with safety, bc crime rates can be estimated differently depending on how much crime the researcher thinks is not reported to the police. And good scholarship identifies the thing that made them think/use that amount of unreported crime.

And another thing! Shame is a dangerous weapon.

TL:DR Google harm reduction. And read the notes on this very post!

for everyone who’s for prison abolition “but not sexual predators!!!” I am begging you to understand how many guys write our prison books program who are sexually deviant, ineligible for parole EVER, and have the mental capacity of elementary-age children.

their letters are a barely legible scrawl of broken sentences or they get someone else to write the letter for them and scribble their names at the bottom with letters backwards. they ask for coloring books and comic books and books with lots of pictures because they can’t read. they will tell us that they’re sexual predators in their letters but from the way they talk about it, it’s clear they don’t understand what that means, it’s just something someone told them.

they are never getting out of prison.

they will die in prison.

they can barely write their names.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

headcanons of the bois+ könig with a reader who is quite young to be at the 141, but they soon realize that they're not as innocent as they look like? i hope this is an appropiate request : )

Ooh! We love a badass 😭❤️ (I wasn’t sure if this was meant to be platonic or romantic but I tried to make it so it can be read as either)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Honestly thoroughly impressed

You clicked instantly with Gaz and Soap, and that didn’t exactly fill him with confidence

He’d passed you off as a young and reckless kid, he wasn’t exactly eager to have you in his squad but who’s he to argue orders

(That’s a lie, he voiced his concerns to Price who told him to trust you)

But then he saw you on the field, focused, precise, deadly, and absolutely lethal if you found your back against the wall

After you seeing you take down a group of men at least twice your size and walk away relatively unscathed, he decided to take you under his wing

He’d train with you constantly, on the mats, in the range, in the gym and you’d take his lessons in stride, he’s not doing it to hone you into an even deadlier weapon

He’s sharpening your skills so you can come back to him in one piece

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

When you were first introduced to the team, he had his reservations but took it upon himself to protect you, no matter what

Especially after you so happily laughed at his jokes

So when you were shipped out together and you provided the most excellent cover fire he’s ever experienced, he’s heavily rethinking his initial judgement of you

He’s reconsidering it even more when he saw you single-handedly cleared the floor while supporting him on your shoulder

“Steamin’ Jesus, didn’t see that comin’” not only was he referring to the surprise attach, but to the lethal force you used to handle the situation

“That why you got me, Soap, I’ve got you.” You beamed up at him, and his heart melted.

Bad ass or not, he still vowed to protect you.

John Price:

He’s not as surprised as the rest of them, he read through your file, saw your accomplishments in the academy

He wasn’t as surprised but his expectations were certainly high, that didn’t mean he didn’t feel any less obligated to keep you safe

Still, when you came at your opponents with deadly accuracy and precision he’s only ever seen from Ghost, he’s a little aghast, definitely not in a bad way though

He’s 100% impressed, his expectations were exceeded but now he had a different reason to worry about you

So to help you stay as safe as possible, he paired you with Ghost to strengthen your training, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself needlessly

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Absolutely blindsided

If you look babey, and you sound babey, then you are babey

So when Price paired you with him, he definitely had his reservations

But seeing you in action was a completely different story. He honestly struggled to believe that he was watching the same person he’d just had coffee with this morning

You’re telling me this lethal one person army was sharing memes and TikTok’s with him this morning??? Unreal.

At the same time, he’s pretty young looking himself and can relate to being judged because of that. So he feels bad for second guessing your strength

He’s definitely asking you for pointers when you get back to base

König:

Not surprised but still a little surprised, he knows firsthand that appearances aren’t always what they seem, so when he was told you were a force to be reckoned with, he believed it. But still quietly promised himself to keep both eyes on you.

So when you were shipped out together, he was a little too focused on trying to protect you that he left himself open to injury

And then he saw it

He saw every ounce of your prowess. You were on a warpath, doing everything possible, single-handedly, to clear the area so the two of you could leave. You came back to him, breathless, and enchanting. You stretched your arm out to him, keeping an eye over your shoulder,

“Come on, big guy, let’s get you up.”

And here I- agh- thought I’d be protecting you.” He teased, groaning as he accepted your hand and helped himself up. You braced yourself as you pulled him upright,

“Maybe next time, Köni. For now, I’ve got you.” You laughed, flashing him a bright smile. Next time, he’d have your back. He swears it.

[pinejayy]

Aizetsu NSFW Headcanons

Honestly he makes my legs drift apart // reader is describe as a female

trigger warnings: duh some nsfw, face sitting, fingering, blood/period play, him being a bottom, degrading, thigh riding, teasing, biting, blow job.

Let’s get this out of the way, Aizetsu definitely whimpers during sex. He lets out small whines and moans. “Please Y/N, I need to fill you up.”

He loves being the bottom most of the time, but there are times that he’s top. He will be top if you’ve been a bad girl or if he needs to let out some steam. “Yeah, you like it when I fuck you right? You like the feeling of my cock inside of you?” or “That’s right take my cock.”

He loves teasing you. Especially if you’re laying on the bed and he loves to finger you real slow and good. While his thumb is circling around your sensitive clit.

If he’s teasing you, you’ll have to beg. And a simple please won’t do you’ll have to get your knees and beg for his cock.

Whenever he’s top he loves to talk down on you. Like for example- “Oh my! Look at how wet you are?” and “Oh you’re such a naughty girl…maybe I need to put you in your place.”

Also whenever you’ve been naughty he makes you sit on his lap, and he’ll make you grind yourself against his thigh. He doesn’t care if you’re crying or begging him to touch you or fuck you dumb he’ll just sit down and enjoy the show. “Naughty girls don’t get rewards.”

Whenever the other clones try flirting with you, he’ll drag you to your bedroom and fuck you. He doesn’t care if they hear you moaning you belong to him and him only.

As I said, he loves being the bottom. He loves watching you a weak human overpower a demon. It really turns him on.

AND PLEASE TALK DIRTY TO HIM, TALK DOWN TO HIM! “Such a naughty Demon…maybe I won’t allow you to finish.” Or “Look at you moaning over me? Are you that weak?”

If you ever want to shut him up just pin him down to your bed and sit on his face, I’m sure he’ll enjoy the tasty treat. “Shh shut up and enjoy this treat-.”

Please pull his hair, he’ll moan your name out.

Whenever you’re on your period he begs and begs for you to allow him to go down on you. At first you were a bit hesitant but he didn’t shut up about it until you gave him what he wanted.

“I get too enjoy a taste treat with some extra sauce.”

He may be a sensitive babey but don’t underestimate the demon. He loves rough sex. His favorite position is missionary, he loves it when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him go crazy…to the point where he’s digging his nails on your thighs drawing blood.

Loves biting you, also loves it when you shiver when his fangs touch your soft skin. He gets excited when he hears your cries when he sinks his fangs into your skin.

Licks up the blood and tells you how good you taste. “Your blood is divine, I wonder what your flesh tastes like.”

Whenever he’s upset or mad about Sekido yelling you’ll get on your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. Slowly pulling his pants down and taking his shaft into your mouth.

He groans loudly and tugs on your hair. “Oh god that feels so good my love, so fucking good ~”

His other favorite position is when you ride him. He loves the way your chest bounces. The Demon also pinches your nipples, loving your reaction.

Is great at after care! He makes sure you’re always taken care of. If he was too rough he’ll hold you and kiss you. Whisper sweet things in your ear. “You did a good job my love. I’m so proud of you.”

He’ll bring you water or a snack. Because he’s gonna want round 2 so you need all the energy.

R.I.P. the ability to walk 

The other clones get annoyed by your guy’s moaning 👁️👄👁️ like bro!! You guys fuck like rabbits.

Karaku has asked for a threesome once and of course he got told no. :( Aizetsu doesn’t want to share you.

[phyrestartr]

My World Ends With You (1/2) | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 4.7k

#SFW, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it, ZOMBIES BABEY

Note: Tis a continuation of Till Death Do Us Part . Would rec reading that first lest you get mad confused

--

“Did Miguel cheat on you?” 

The question caught you off guard. As far as you knew, only a handful of people got the gist of what happened, and even fewer knew the exact reason why everything systematically fell apart. 

“How'd you–who told you?” You asked Gwen, surprise and trepidation creasing your brow. 

The young lady shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest tighter as she leaned toward the fire you'd made–the one you made out of pure restlessness from staying inside for too long. You decided to pretend you were out in the great outdoors like the old days, and set up a ring of rocks and chairs on the roof to escape the fluorescent lights and white walls. Evidently, Gwen needed a break from it all, too.

“Gabi.” She fiddled with her toque and cleared her throat. “She, uh--y'know. She mentioned it.” 

“Huh.” Your gaze wandered away from Gwen, and back to the fire. “I didn't think she'd remember.” 

“How old was she? When it happened, I mean.” 

“Must've been 11. We split when she was 13, I'm pretty sure.” You sighed and leaned back in your shitty old soccer mom chair. “Guess we were bad at hiding it.”

“Pretty hard to hide that kinda thing from your kid,” Gwen mumbled, dwelling on something ancient and sore in the depths of her memories. “They're more perceptive than you think.” 

You nodded. The stars caught your attention and you stared up, gazing upon the winking lights and shooting comets flying by. Most of those celestial bodies were there when everything happened. Did they remember, too? Were they haunted, too?

“Yeah. My parents thought I didn't know nothin’ either. They didn't know how wrong that was,” you agreed. 

“So he did cheat on you?” Gwen asked. You nodded. She scoffed. “But--why? He always acts so lovey-dovey and gross around you. Why would he–?”

“Good people do bad things,” you said, and continued before she could cut in, “‘n bad people do good things, sometimes.” 

“So which camp is he in?” She asked.

“Pretty sure he's mostly good.” 

“Pretty sure?” 

You chuckled. “I've met ‘bad guys,’ believe me.” You took a breath and nudged some logs around in the fire with a stick. “Miguel ain't like them. He's full of himself, arrogant, stubborn ‘n all that, but he's helped people. He's helping people, even if he's got a crap attitude about it.” 

“Right,” Gwen breathed. Her voice carried something heavy with it. Something uncertain and unwavering, like the teeter of winter into spring, or thunder that wondered if it might rain. Her restless energy mirrored the fire as it roiled and spat brilliant sprays of embers into the cold, night sky; only, the fire would eventually die down, calm itself into blackened coals. Gwen’s torch would not fade as such. 

“You think he’s a bad guy?” You asked. 

“Never really thought he was a good guy.” She rubbed the back of her neck before sighing. “But. Yeah.  Never thought he was a bad guy, either. Kinda feels like a vigilante, or something. But less cool.”

You smiled when you peered over at her. “Maybe like an antihero?” 

“Way less cool than that, but yeah. Sure. An antihero,” she huffed. “But you’re a blue-blood. I don’t think those types are supposed to get along.” 

That made you laugh. “I think they get along pretty well. They do in the comics, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye on everything.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You mean most things?”

You nodded. “Yeah, most things.” You tucked your hands into your pockets and gazed up again, this time losing your thoughts to the endless void of grey sweeping in and devouring all light in the sky. “You don't need to worry about me, Gwen. There’re more–”

“More important things to worry about?” She finished, not sounding too impressed. “Feels like you're using the end of the world as an excuse.” 

You frowned, and wiped the dew of melted snowflakes from your cheek. “Maybe you got yourself a point, there.” 

–

You were the new kid in year 12. Normally, no one gave a shit–it was New York, after all–but you had a tendency to catch everyone's attention when you never sought to try. 

You were a country boy. A fella with a strange tendency to be kind and hold doors open for ladies or help some sorry idiot pick up their dropped assignment. That gentle lilt in your voice, the only evidence that you weren't from the city, always had people staring your way. Boys would mock you, especially when their girls flushed soft colours and whispered while they glanced your way. It didn't help that you were handsome as all hell, too. 

And one day, like a fucking fairytale, Miguel finally ran into you and got hit with the triple threat that was your accent, face, and genuinity–what he didn't expect, however, was to meet you at the Kwan's ranch.

You were clad in boots and jeans and a stupid cliche cowboy hat hung around your neck, hiding the impressive display of shoulder blades flexing and rippling with strong muscle as you shoveled and cleaned out the old hay and debris from the stables. Something warm and melodious trilled under your breath as you worked, and it beckoned like a siren's song--so captivating Miguel couldn't help himself. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You looked over your broad shoulder and blinked a few times, like you were showing off the brilliant hue of your eyes on purpose. A kindly smile made you shine brighter, too, like the sun somehow lit you up from within. 

“Howdy,” you said. 

“Howdy?” Miguel snorted and tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he wandered in. “That's a little too country, isn't it?” 

“Is it now?” The twang in your voice must’ve been fake. No normal person sounded like they were ripped straight from a Western. “Maybe you're just too city.” 

“Hm.” Miguel crossed his arms and leaned against a beam as he watched you continue to work. “Maybe.” 

“Come on, now,” you laughed, “I can smell the city on you. Could probably taste it, too, if I could.” 

Miguel's face burned. His heart pitter-pattered just a little bit faster, soon going a lot faster when he registered the wink you threw his way. Were you flirting? Was it working? Was Miguel swooning? 

Yes, yes and yes. 

–

“Y'know, you don't have to be such a busy body,” Miguel said, wandering into the lab-turned-greenhouse. He had to admit, it looked good. Peaceful. And it certainly helped with keeping everyone fed and happy. So did your presence at Alchemax; you and Gabriella felt like a fresh coat of paint on a beat-up old car. A nice change. Good additions. 

And Miguel felt complete now that you were with him, too. There were still issues, still things to work out and problems to talk about, but it felt nice to work towards something selfish and meaningful. Something that was wholly and unabashedly for him and him alone.

But you were such a restless man. All day, every day, Miguel found you working; clearing snow, repotting, sowing seeds, cleaning, teaching, handyman-ing were all on your resume of husband material and so clearly those skills ruled your mind every waking hour of every day. It didn't help that the other folks In the colony realized just how much of a do-gooder sweetheart you were. Miguel was one more flirty comment away from nuking the building. 

But the way you smiled in the face of adversity let him keep a reasonable cool. Whether it was your awkward attempt to be cordial with someone who so clearly thirsted for you and your attention, or in a sheepish and innocently guilty way whenever Miguel called you out for working too much, you had a way of melting his frigid heart into something cool and light like an autumnal spring.

“I’m just puttering,” you hummed, pausing what you were doing to lean in and give him a kiss, careful to keep your dirt-crusted hands away from him and his neatness. “Just movin’ some of these into bigger pots. Don’t want them to go dying on us.” 

“I think they’d live.” Miguel hummed as he looked over the array of little plants sprouting with flourishes of brilliant emerald. His hand slipped to the small of your back before his arms looped around your waist, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “I need you more than they do.”

You laughed, soft and smoky. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Miguel left a sweet kiss on your neck, right on the odd, heart-shaped-ish scar he used to leave hickeys over back in the day. “They’re not the only ones that need fertilizing.”

“Christ. Did Pete teach you that one?” You laughed, but didn’t crumble and fertilize Miguel. Damn. 

Your partner huffed. “Come on, just–can’t you take a break, viejo?” He kissed your neck another handful of times and buried his face into the strong curve of your shoulder with a most petulant sigh. “Feels like I only get to see you when we go to bed.” 

“Not much different from how it used to be,” you said. “I worked nights, you worked days. Hardly got to see each other.” 

“I hated it,” Miguel mumbled. And you actually paused, your busy hands halting with the rest of your body. “I wanted you home with me. I didn’t want you to work nights.” 

He felt you shift again, the sound of your hands under running water sparking hope in his chest. But he snuffed it out himself–he knew you too well. You weren’t the type to stop when something needed to be done. Miguel couldn’t fault you for it, though, not when he was the exact same way. 

“Miggs.” You turned in his arms and held the sides of his face. “I’m not going anywhere. No night shifts, no driving after gun-toutin’ idiots on the highway, no overtime. You can always find me if you need me.” 

“Would you've come for me and Dana–” he stopped, a bout of regret punching the words back down his throat. The sudden distance in your eyes and the stiffness of your touch haunted him. Why did he have to talk? Why was he still chasing you away like this? 

“Don't,” Miguel pleaded, his hands flying up to your arms, holding you still. 

An overcast of something chased away the far look. Miguel wished he could read you as easily as you read him. He didn't know what you were thinking. Did he ever?

“I still have some things I'm working on getting past, Miggs,” you managed. “I don't--I'm trying.” 

Miguel nodded. What could he say, really? Try harder? Love me more? Get over it already? Your marriage reached a difficult point before the apocalypse; now, it'd climbed to new heights, but problems erased themselves thanks to the simple fact that the world had ended. There were more deadly things to worry about in the present.

“Just let me know if I can help,” your partner offered. And you smiled, tired and weary, unknowingly soothing the frigid panic freezing Miguel's veins. 

“Promise I will.” You gently stroked the arch of his cheekbone with the back of your knuckles. “Just don't worry too much. I'm alright.” 

And he believed you. 

– 

“Who's your friend?” 

The question drove Miguel insane, like a chisel tapping away at marble. Because everyone asked when they saw you, a stupidly handsome, ridiculously tall, polite southern gentleman dressed to the nines in a custom suit Miguel picked out himself–garments he picked out for his fiancé. His betrothed. His to-be husband. 

Miguel's coworkers knew he was taken. He thought it'd be obvious by whom since, well, he rolled up to the event with you and had complimentary outfits with you and you were wearing a fucking ring on the finger.

Still, countless folks introduced themselves to you, sweeping you up into conversations and leaning in too close for comfort. Miguel’s ego swelled, sure; he had the most impeccable, handsome, perfect man in the world, but his jealousy chomped away at his temper. He didn't like people thinking they had a chance with you. It was funny at first, but you were too nice to snap at them, to put them in their places. And, quite frankly, Miguel had had more than enough of watching his damn coworkers throw themselves at you the second they heard that stupid, endearing drawl or saw your charming, lopsided smile. 

He floated to your side, anchoring an arm around your waist while his other hand held a crystalline glass of something golden and fancy. 

“Hey,” Miguel hummed as your eyes met, and he leaned in, planting a soft, sweet peck onto your lips. “Havin’ fun?” The energy around the bystanders shifted dramatically. Miguel felt more pleased than a lion catching its prey. 

“Better now that you’re here,” you hummed, eyes creasing with a gentle tilt of your lips. He loved that look on you. It was the same one you wore every morning when you cooed your sweet good morning-s. 

“I make everything better,” Miguel agreed. He finished his drink and handed it off to whatever poor sod stood beside him. “Guess they haven’t heard the good news.” 

Your head tilted as whispers spread around you both. “Thought you would’ve told ‘em by now, honey.” 

“Well,” Miguel said, sing-songy and so obviously annoyed and bitter with how annoying this event had been for him. He took your hand and brought it up, feigning examination while purposefully catching the light on the band of gold hugging your finger. “I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to not put two and two together.” 

With that, the vibe died. Soft scoffs and muttered words were left in the wake of party-goers as they abandoned the two of you. Some offered anxious goodbyes to you before shuffling off, but many who’d been burned and shit on by Miguel in the past were not pleasant enough to separate you from your man. Which Miguel preferred. 

Miguel smirked to himself, satisfied with his work. Though, when he met your eyes, you looked anything but impressed. Oops. He probably should’ve considered the aftermath.

“Look, they should know who they're messing with,” he testified.

You quirked a brow. “You mean who they're talkin’ to?” 

Miguel huffed, the smallest of pouts forming. “Don't give me that. They were all over you.” 

“Honey, no one's ever gonna replace you, alright? You've got nothin’ to worry about.” Still exasperated, you smiled, and fixed his tie for him, giving it a light tug and tucking it back against his breast neatly. “You think I'd ever fool around behind your back?” 

“What? No.” Why wouldn’t you? You were handsome, a gentleman, a man who could have anything and anyone you wanted with looks and charm alone. So maybe–maybe that's why Miguel did what he did. Maybe he was trying to show you just how wrong you were. 

“Exactly. Now, you stop worrying and try to enjoy the event, alright? Promise I'll stay by your side for peace of mind,” you said with a wink. Miguel melted. You were too good for him. 

“Por dios–yeah, alright, okay. Fine.” He huffed and pulled you in close to him again and gave you a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 

And of course, it was in that moment Dana passed him by with a smile full of secrets and damning evidence–a vault that he wanted to break open and force you to face.  

–

Miles fucked up. 

He yanked open that fucking car door–specifically when told not to–and set off the dinner bell for whatever undeads still wandered the streets of New York. 

The race through the city streets wasn't so easy, not after years of the military, militia and more trying to block off streets, take a stance against the unending hordes threatening human existence–tanks, trucks, barricades and more littered and cluttered the streets like the puddles after a storm. Every vault and jump was uncertain despite determined, never really knowing if the next car the group jumped onto would throw one of you to the ground with a broken leg or twisted ankle. Miguel almost wished Miles shattered his knee. 

Especially when you nearly didn't make it inside. 

Miguel pulled you through just as they got the shitty garage door down, and he pulled you up, eyes wide and jaw set as pain jolted your features. 

“Hey, hey, what's–you're fine. You're fine,” he whispered. His hand frantically touched where they could before settling on either side of your face as you both fought to catch your breath. “You're fine.” 

But you shook your head. “I, uh--need you to back away from me, baby.” 

“No.” 

“I gotta make sure, be careful–” 

“No.” 

You pulled his hands away from your face, and Miguel saw liquid ruby stain his skin, too. 

“Listen,” you rasped as you limped toward a rundown car with your cuffs unlatched from your belt. “We gotta–gotta clear the shop. Miggs, you take care of the doors.” 

But he didn’t. He stood still, shoulders rolling with the heavy breaths he sucked in while you and Gwen puttered around the small, homely garage to the tune of the undead hissing and snarling just beyond the metal door. Miguel took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the–

“I–uh, what should I do?” Miles asked. 

Miguel whirled around and stalked to him, explosive rage fuelling his steps across the room. He grabbed Miles’ shirt and slammed him into the wall, looming over him like a titan. 

“You are not going to do anything,” Miguel growled. Miles’ eyes widened as he shrunk. “This is your fucking fault in the first place.”

“Hey, he’s just a kid–” Gwen tried, but Miguel’s quick glance her way stalled her. “He didn’t mean to–”

“That’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to survive out here and he’s not willing to use his fucking brain to fill in the gaps.” 

“Dude, let go of me!” Miles snapped, panic lancing through the quiver in his voice. “You can’t–” Miguel slammed him into the wall again. The undead shrieked and howled a mere half a foot away beyond the stone walls barring them out. 

Miguel basked in the dread eating away at Miles’ confidence. “It was a mistake to bring you here. You were a mis–” 

You yanked Miguel off the kid and slammed him into the wall, hand clapping over your partner’s mouth while your red-hot stare bore into the back of his skull and pinned him still. Your other hand held firm over his throat. You didn’t hurt him, but the fingertips digging into the straining tendons of Miguel’s neck threatened the opposite. 

“Quiet,” is what you commanded.

The room fell silent. And it stayed that way. It was hard to tell if anyone still breathed or lived in the minutes you all stood, patient, suffocating, and you stayed in that unsure limbo while the bloodthirsty reverie gradually de-crescendoed in the placid muteness. Slowly, slowly, with each wandering corpse that left to chase errant noises or to wander aimlessly with no mission left in mind, the air in your sanctuary began to heal. 

Your grip became kinder, and you let go, staggering back on unsteady legs. Then, you collapsed.

–

Your injury turned out to be a gash, not a bite. It ran across your shoulder horizontally, accented by a few other gouges bloodying your exhausted face and Miguel's busy hands. 

He stitched you up carefully yet thoroughly, eagerly trying to finish the job while you squeezed your eyes closed and gnawed on the belt wedged between your teeth. To your credit, you handled the temp stitches well. You only really shifted and panicked when Miguel tried to flush the wound with what water he had on hand. 

“That should hold until we get back,” he murmured for your ears only. He cut the thread with his teeth after tying it off, and wrapped your arm with a strip of torn shirt. 

You nodded tiredly and let him take the belt from between your teeth. “Thank you.” You sat up a little straighter against the wall and took deep breaths, eyes squeezed closed and brow beaded with sweat. 

Heat flared in Miguel’s chest. If not for you, Miguel would have ripped Miles a new one. He might have even thrown him to the undead in your name. If you'd come out infected, doomed to die, he'd make sure Miles suffered the same. 

“Don't be so hard on him,” you rasped, voice blending with the soft crackle of the unconvincing campfire. 

Miguel's stare hardened into ice. “He could've–” 

“Miguel.” He looked at you, and melted as you leaned into his warmth. “Lectures can wait. We need to get home first.” 

You were right. And it enraged Miguel further. He wanted to take his anger out on something, or better yet someone, but you just–

“You remember when you proposed?” You whispered. 

The creases between Miguel's brows lifted and smoothed. “‘Course I remember.” He slid a careful arm around your waist and held you to his side. He kissed the top of your head and inhaled your scent. “You were coming home from a night shift.” 

He remembered it too clearly, actually. You, being exhausted and out of it, still suited up in your uniform when you came through the door with a yawn. 

Coffee, your other beloved, lured you to the kitchen where Miguel knew you'd find him. Though he hated not waking up beside you those mornings, he cherished the sleepy back hugs you'd greet him with while you both waited for the carafe to fill. 

“Mornin’,” you grumbled into his neck between small kisses. “Sleep good?” 

Miguel always leaned back into you and basked in the wander of your hands and the scent of cigarettes hiding in your words. It all meshed too well with the bitterness of coffee. “Woulda slept better with you here.” 

You hummed, crackly and apologetic. “Good thing that was my last night shift this block, hey? Get to wake up with you tomorrow.” Your fingertips dragged up the hem of shirt in your search to feel the dips and curves of his toned stomach. “And the next day, and the next day…”

Miguel turned in your arms to spy your drowsy smile. He cupped your face, running his thumbs along the bags under your eyes, before giving you a peck. “I think you need a nap, mi amor.” 

“No, no, ‘m fine. Promise. Just need a shower ‘n I'll be right as rain.” You took one of his hands in your own and turned to kiss his palm. “Wouldn’t be opposed to a mid-morning nap, though.” 

“Lucky for you, I'm getting back in bed after coffee's done.” Miguel kissed you again, purposely mooshing his nose against yours. “Go take a shower. I'll pour you a cup.” 

You hummed, accepting the offer, and very very reluctantly separated from your lover. “Just don't make mine too crazy sweet, alright?” 

Miguel huffed. “Tch. I don't even make it that sweet.” But you were already sauntering off to the ensuite, loud yawn punctuating your departure. “Pendejo.” 

The coffee maker beeped not too long after. Thoughts of what to do with the weekend swirled through Miguel's mind with the springy, disoriented bounce of ADHD while he made up both of your coffees, one just sorta sweet, and one just a little (a lot) sweeter. Honestly, Miguel was bad at making coffee to your taste. Too often he'd watch you stand at the coffee maker, measuring cream, sugar and coffee in your quest to achieve a perfect bitterness to sweetness ratio. 

But when Miguel made you coffee, you never complained. Simply requested it not be too sweet. And everytime Miguel handed you that cup, trepidation filling the childish part of his pride, you always declared it was perfect from the first sip. 

Perfect. Like you. Like his life. That's why he needed to–

“Honey,” you called, bringing your partner back to the present. He turned to you, eyebrows raising in interest at just how low the towel hung from your hips–until he saw the small box in your hand. That made his heart start pounding. 

Miguel crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to hide his sheer panic. “Where did you–”

“You forgot it in the bathroom. I think. Found it on the counter.” 

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He really forgot to put that stupid thing away. He really went all cliché romcom and rehearsed in front of the mirror and didn't put the fucking ring away. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a goddamn genius, and yet–

You opened the box because of course you would. Anyone with a shred of curiosity would. And you whistled in a way that only cowboys could. Back when you were both young, you whistled at Miguel like that when he walked by. Lyla said you weren't one to do that, that that was a first for you.

“Damn. This thing looks expensive.” You pulled the gold ring out and looked it over as Miguel came to you. The band was simple gold, yes, but inlaid was a diamond flanked by your birthstone and his, all shaped in a striking baguette cut. The piece was simple and masculine, something befitting you entirely. 

But you were too out of it to realize what the fuck it was you were holding. 

“Bet I could buy a farm with this.” 

Miguel had to laugh a bit at that. “Most people would say a house, you know.” 

“Farm's better. Comes with a house.” You snatched up his hand and examined his fingers, probably sizing up which one the ring–your ring--was supposed to fit on. “Either way, you’re gonna turn heads with a whole mortgage on your finger, I'll tell you what.” 

Miguel's chest warmed. Maybe because of your smooth way of talking, or maybe because you were too sweet and admiring of your partner. Miguel couldn't tell. But it was probably both. 

“On my finger?” He repeated as he plucked the ring from the box. His heart beat in his ears. His face burned. But it was now or never. “I think it'd look better on yours.” 

“What?” You asked, soft and confused, sorta like you'd realized what that ring meant halfway through. “Wait, wait–” 

“I was going to.” Miguel slid the fine gold band on your left ring finger. “But then you ruined the surprise.” 

There was something magical in that moment. Your hand in Miguel's, the sparkle of new promise shining on your finger, the glitter of crystals pooling in your eyes. And your eyes were so wide, like you didn't quite believe Miguel would want to marry someone like you, so he had to say it, if not for the cliché, movie finale:

“Will you marry m–” 

You kissed him before he could finish. Your arms flew around his neck as your weight hit him like a ton of bricks. But he caught you both and held you close, laughing against your lips as the ball of doubt unraveled as every whispered chant of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ touched his skin. 

Those days were good. They were simple. They were The start of everything Miguel could have dreamed of–and then he ruined it. 

“Still hard to believe you wanted me, sometimes,” you reminisced, looking down at the dull, chipped set of rings hugging your finger still.

“You're the only one,” he murmured into your hair. “Even when–even if I–no matter what. No matter what, it was always you. It'll always be you.” Then where's your ring, Miguel?

You hummed and sunk into your partner's warmth more, staying silent with your thoughts as you watched the dim flicker of the fire and the two others collapsed around it. “Try not to be so hard on Miles.” Ah. “He screwed up. But we need to keep morale up.” 

Miguel huffed. “So you only mentioned our–you just wanted me to stop thinking about today.” 

“I wanted you to relax, sweetheart.” God, that smile was so clear in your voice. 

“Tch. Pendejo. He deserves to be yelled at.” 

“By his father. At home. Where it's safe.” 

“Fine.” 

[blujayonthewing]

what if a character who was built around comic relief tropes is a whole person despite how she may come across to other people 🤔 what if a character who felt, to me, like probably too much of a silly little weirdo to ever be in any kind of relationship was actually unambiguously appealing to others, in a way that's not itself played as a joke 🤔 what if my response to my own fear of 'will people think it's Weird to imply that anyone might ever be attracted to someone like this' is to say 'well it isn't. you can be weird and beautiful. you can be weird and sexy. you can be weird and still be appealing as a person and partner. it's cultural and subjective and it's also just simply true because I make the rules and I said so' 🤔 what if all that felt affirming to me for no particular reason 🤔🤔🤔

reframing what I had considered to be my least appealing OC as actually being very attractive without changing anything about her as a form of self care

[firestorm09890]

stray canto vii part 1 thoughts (warning: long)

so many cool new designs!! it made me realize how few of interest we got in Canto VI. Then almost everything was pretty standard (classic maid and butler outfits, lots of suits, Cathy had a fancy dress at least? and everything was brown. yes I know, T Corp color drain, but still. and Öufi came before season 3 ended so that didn’t count), but this time we have Camille, the P Corp guys, Fanghunt Office, Hugo I guess, Hong Lu’s sister, the firefist guy? if he counts? he barely appeared, Sansón, and all the fancy dressed up bloodfiends. woo babey!!

speaking of Jia Xichun, I like her! She’s cute! I didn’t expect to see anyone related to Hong Lu, but in retrospect I probably should’ve, since his turn is next and his family is massive. I hope nothing bad happens to her. I've never read Dream of the Red Chamber

also speaking of Hugo, lol. lmao. when he was talking about pressing the button to get the reward I was like “oh hopkins 2, got it” and then Ryōshū sliced off his hands so I guess… not hopkins 2

ALSO the blonde Fanghunt guy is named Romero, which is apparently the name of a character in Vampire: The Masquerade. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was an intentional reference

Sinclair cursing that one guy out was so awesome. I remember when Canto V part 2 came out and he censored himself saying “Bitch Brother” people were worried that the new translators were making him softer than he actually was, but, nah, he tries his best to be a polite boy but when he’s actually genuinely pissed off he does not hold back. Ryōshū correcting him BUT THEN SAYING HIS INTERPRETATION WAS GOOD absolutely killed me. my son demands respect

it’s a good day to be a Leviathan fan

The scripted loss encounter was so cool. They set you to level 45 no matter what level your LCB Don is, and take away all your EGO except the base (which you can’t even use), and I don’t know how far you can actually get in this fight because I flipped tails every single time and lost every clash

let’s talk about the Barber! leave it to Project Moon to look at the character who didn’t have very much of a personality who stuck around with the priest and attempted multiple plans to bring Don Quixote back home so he could become sane again (and burned a bunch of Quixote’s chivalry books, also with the priest), and turned him into an insane vampire woman with big scissors and a shrill cackle who stitches masks onto people’s faces.

interesting choice to have Sancho and Dulcinea both named in a single line and then not acknowledged or mentioned again

Sansón! so based on his story log portrait background being bisexual, the blue name, and him resembling someone in Demian’s group in the Limbus Company PV, I feel confident saying he’s part of Demian’s Group. The spot where his Sign would be is covered by his mask, though, so no one in-universe knows

I think this is why Sinclair was cast in the role of the Knight of the White Moon: he also has the sign, which Sansón (who is the Knight of the White Moon) would be able to see, and even if other sinners have it too, they’re not Demian’s special guy. everyone else, though, seemed to be cast in the most humiliating role possible: horse to be ridden for Gregor, wild animal for Heathcliff, random peasant for Rodya, presumably homeless old person for Outis

ok Sansón. in the book, he’s a young college student who read the first part of Don Quixote and, in part 2, approaches Quixote saying he’s a big fan and encouraging him to go back out and do more knight stuff. However, he actually just thinks Don Quixote’s antics are very amusing and isn’t actually an earnest supporter, and is conspiring with the barber and priest to get Quixote back home to stay. the way they (priest and barber try to bring him home in part 1 is by tricking him with an adventure that’s conveniently in the same direction as their home village, but then they get sidetracked in an inn for a long time so they just put him in a cage and drive him home. in part 2, they want to play on Quixote’s terms for a more effective result. near the beginning of the second part, they have Sansón dress as a knight (called the Knight of Mirrors/Knight of the Forest. these titles have no significance in the book but apparently the mirror thing forces Quixote to see himself as the frail old man he is in Man of La Mancha), say his lady is fairer than Dulcinea to get Don Quixote to duel him, and then make Quixote promise to stay home for a year when he loses. however, Sansón is the one who loses, because he wasn’t expecting Quixote to actually be good at jousting. Later, near the very end, which iirc is 3 months after the first encounter, another knight called the Knight of the White Moon issues the exact same challenge to Don Quixote (it’s just Sansón again, and "White Moon" has no significance in the original book either), but this time Sansón wins, so Don Quixote goes home, dejected, and then becomes “sane” again and dies.

Since this Sansón is part of Demian’s group, I don’t think his intentions will be the same- the Barber was a bloodfiend, and he sees beyond the ambitions of the bloodfiends now- but it’s fun to know how he is in the source nonetheless

I really like how he didn’t show up after the Barber’s defeat to say something cryptic and then leave, he told us quite a bit, and though his methods were… questionable, he DID force the sinners to actually finally pay attention to Don Quixote

speaking of the stage play, I like the juxtaposition between Sansón’s play and the Barber’s. in a different context, what Sansón did might’ve been framed as horrifying, and we’d be talking about how uncanny and unreal this is, but I don’t think that’s the intention here. the sinners might be playing roles, and all the enemies are cardboard cutouts, but it’s better than putting targets on real people (though I guess they’re not “people”, they’re bad, bad, bloodfiends). the cheerful music in La Manchaland is distorted and out of place, while the stage play is nice in comparison. the music for the talking sections is a bit too upbeat for the situation, but the music during the battles really immerses you. guitar! trumpet! maraca! this music is clearly composed to emulate spanish music, and it’s very earnest, which I think is important, with how easily music sets tone in media.

in both cases, Don Quixote is in a delusion. nothing in the stage play of her adventures is real, but she’s also completely wrapped up in the narrative of evil bloodfiends without the knowledge that she is one. a violent nightmare and a peaceful dream, both of which she needs to wake up from.

they both do this thing with black-and-white thinking, too. there’s a difference between the “good” bloodfiends, which you should get along with, and the “bad” ones, which you need to kill (though Don sees them both as bad), and then the bandits in the stage play are cartoonishly evil and love to bully the weak. except it seems the first is the narrative the Barber wanted to sell, while the second is Don Quixote’s reality… I mean, the play is definitely inaccurate, but we’ve seen how Don behaves

if you follow me for kingdom hearts and are for some reason reading this you know how much I love Nobodies in kh. people who used to be human, but aren’t anymore, who look close enough but are different on an intrinsic and physiological level, that everyone automatically treats as unreasonable monsters that need to die when they’re more complicated than that… I love it so much, I’m cheering and clapping whenever bloodfiend morality is brought up. Moses said that Larierre was cordial and offered her a place to sit and talk, but then also said bloodfiends are insatiably hungry and you shouldn’t underestimate them. agh I love it

also THE MUSIIIIIC every fight theme so far has been a banger. songs that were already good but with typical carnival instruments, big brass swing, the aforementioned nice spanish music, and the fucked up and evil sequel to dubstep electroswing featuring evil laughter

and finally, the helm of mambrino. in early part 1 of Don Quixote, he sees a barber (COMPLETELY unrelated barber to the other barber btw) carrying a basin on his head, and thinks it’s the amazing mystical Helm of Mambrino, so he attacks the barber and steals the basin. Don Quixote wears it as a helmet a few times and everyone thinks it looks really stupid. they did not fight a bear for it, nor did they go into a cave. idk what this might actually be in the City. either we’ll see or we won’t

[i-love-your-light]

too many thoughts on the new hbomberguy video not to put them anywhere so:

with every app trying to turn into the clock app these days by feeding you endless short form content, *how many* pieces of misinformation does the average person consume day to day?? thinking a lot about how tons of people on social media go largely unquestioned about the information they provide just because they speak confidently into the camera. if you're scrolling through hundreds of pieces of content a day, how many are you realistically going to have the time and will to check? i think there's an unfortunate subconscious bias in liberal and leftist spaces that misinformation is something that is done only by the right, but it's a bipartisan issue babey. everybody's got their own agendas, even if they're on "your side". *insert you are not immune to propaganda garfield meme*

and speaking of fact checking, can't help but think about how much the current state of search engines Sucks So Bad right now. not that this excuses ANY of the misinformation at all, but i think it provides further context as to why these things become so prevalent in creators who become quick-turnaround-content-farms and cut corners when it comes to researching. when i was in high school and learning how to research and cite sources, google was a whole different landscape that was relatively easy to navigate. nowadays a search might give you an ad, a fake news article, somebody's random blog, a quora question, and another ad before actually giving you a relevant verifiable source. i was googling a question about 1920s technology the other day (for a fanfiction im writing lmao) and the VERY FIRST RESULT google gave me was some random fifth grader's school assignment on the topic???? like?????? WHAT????? it just makes it even harder for people to fact-check misinformation too.

going off the point of cutting corners when it comes to creating content, i can't help but think about capitalism's looming influence over all of this too. again, not as an excuse at all but just as further environmental context (because i really believe the takeaway shouldn't be "wow look how bad this one individual guy is" but rather "wow this is one specific example of a much larger systemic issue that is more pervasive than we realize"). a natural consequence of the inhumanity of capitalism is that people feel as if they have to step on or over eachother to get to 'the top'. if everybody is on this individualistic american dream race to success, everyone else around you just looks like collateral. of course then you're going to take shortcuts, and you're going to swindle labor and intellectual property from others, because your primary motivation is accruing capital (financial or social) over ethics or actual labor.

i've been thinking about this in relation to AI as well, and the notion that some people want to Be Artists without Doing Art. they want to Have Done Art but not labor through the process. to present something shiny to the world and benefit off of it. they don't want to go through the actual process of creating, they just want a product. Easy money. Winning the game of capitalism.

i can't even fully fault this mentality- as someone who has been struggling making barely minimum wage from art in one of the most expensive cities in america for the past two years, i can't say that i haven't been tempted on really difficult occasions to act in ways that would be morally bad but would give me a reprieve from the constant stress cycle of "how am i going to pay for my own survival for another month". the difference is i don't give in to those impulses.

tl;dr i hope that people realize that instead of this just being a time to dogpile on one guy (or a few people), that it's actually about a larger systemic problem, and the perfect breeding grounds society has created for this kind of behavior to largely go unchecked!!!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

heyy I have a question but I'm kinda embarrassed about it so idk?

how much of a high libido is normal for a teenager? around 15 years? because like I've been taught that puberty makes you horny, but all everyone was always talking and making jokes about was cus males going through that, and I'm not a cis dude

I was just wondering because like it feels wrong sometimes to think about it that much even though it feels good to but like -I also don't really know how to say this- it also feels like I'm using sexual thoughts and fantasies and stuff to distract myself and to repress the stuff going on in my life? like I can feel my brain switch from "I'm gonna have a breakdown" to "how about horny?" in a couple of seconds and idk if that's normal? or healthy for that matter lol

idk what to say have a nice day and any advice is appreciated<3

(do you do named anons? if so, can I be fox anon?)

hi fox anon,

I'm actually going to direct you to an ask from a shrimp anon, where we had a little chat about hypersexuality and how to know if your sex drive is too high. (spoiler alert: if you're not actively ruining your own life in the pursuit of sex, it's probably not!)

there are definitely the most stereotypes about cis teenage boys being horny, but it's very normal for people with any gender identity, genitalia, and hormones to be extremely interested in sex during their teen years. (and of course, it's also normal not to be interested at all!) this is the part of your life where everybody's bodies are reaching sexual maturity, and it's extremely EXTREMELY normal to have a burning curiosity to go along with that.

it's also very normal to have a lot of Large emotions and feel like they can switch on a dime; that's the power of Hormones, babey! you're experiencing a lot of internal hormonal situations and external social stresses for the first time, and your brain is learning how to process all that.

I have a friend who's only a few months old, so when he gets overwhelmed he doesn't know how to handle that and usually just cries about it because he's brand new and doesn't have any other coping mechanisms. of course, you have a lot more experience than a guy who's brand new and you know way more coping mechanisms than he does, but you're in a somewhat similar position of having to handle a LOT of new shit and not knowing how to cope with it yet. sometimes what's going to happen is just pivoting hard from one big feeling to another - in some cases, from the pits of despair straight to horny jail.

is it possible to become overly reliant on sexual stimulation as a form of self-soothing? sure, of course. it's possible to become overly reliant on anything; absolutely any positive behavior can become detrimental if it's performed to extremity. again, read that ask I linked!

but pivoting from a breakdown to jacking off isn't a bad idea. it can help you calm down, can be a great transition into a nap or sleep, and pops off a little burst of dopamine and oxytocin that's probably very badly needed if you're on the verge of a breakdown. of course it's ideal to have other healthy outlets for when you're feeling bad - making art or doing something else with your hands, doing some enjoyable physical activity, talking with friends or family, keeping a journal - but as one part of a larger diet of support and coping mechanism, horny behavior is great, normal, and very healthy.

[bonefall]

I kind of feel evil for asking this, but how does the fact that Brightheart is considered the hottest molly in the forest while Cloudtail is considered rather ugly affect their relationship? (Also the love the Better Bones Au!)

I think in other couples, it might, but for them it doesn't. Y'know? Other cats might be shallow, or insecure that they're considered so unattractive while their mate is "out of their league," but that's simply not Cloudtail and Brightheart.

You see, a short king like Cloudtail only has a certain amount of floorspace with which to store their confidence. In a tall guy, it spreads all out and gets thin. In a boy who is short? It's concentrated. Absolutely distilled to its purest essence. You cannot divide him. This man is a carbon molecule, and babey, Brightheart is 6 electrons.

He's like Danny Devito. When does Danny Devito ever stop and lament his appearance? That man is a comedic orb. That's Cloudtail.

Brightheart ironically is the one who's more insecure. The death of her cousin and Bluestar's Dishonor Title, Swifthound, really wrecked her. She has a bad habit of feeling like she doesn't deserve the good things she has.

In BB's Clan Culture, scars are desirable. She feels like she doesn't deserve to have such markers of strength. What she did in following Swiftpaw towards the dogs that night wasn't noble, it was foolish. So walking away from it with trophies that she feels she didn't earn is painful.

In a way, she feels like that with Cloudtail, too. What did she do to deserve him? He supports her in everything she does. He does everything in his power to make her feel better. When she suggests surrogating for their friends in other Clans? He thinks that's great! If she wanted to go on a trip with Cinderheart to the town? He'd cheer! She knows, deep in her heart, if she ever DID want to become a Cleric, Cloudtail loves her enough to let her go.

And that hurts, sometimes. When she struggles with self-worth. She feels like it's not fair she's loved so much.

So... basically, maybe in another couple who was more shallow. But these two have something a lot deeper going on.

[hakugin0]

So that new Levi card, woah boy(positive). I get how setting is slightly dubious but unfortunately my brain stopped at the ‘childish jealousy’ part and yeah childish was the perfect word he actually is throwing a bratty tantrum about MC talking about their time with Minhyeok WHILE THEY'RE NOT EVEN NEXT TO HIM. Levi, babey, you're not beating the Tsundere allegations.

Also the part about the sins was very interesting ‘cause it kinda puts in perspective why he feels like there's no King he's close to. Or at least that's my read on that part, all their sins have some positive parts while his is the only fully negative one so of course he couldn't feel close to them. (Personally I do think that part is his viewpoint on their sins and it would be interesting to see the other Kings’ too, Satan in particular since I feel like his sin and depressive mood swings do go hand in hand)

Now for the read more aka wiiiild speculations because he didn't come home in the reduced ten pull aka see you in 3 months bae when I have 500 pulls and you still refuse to show up(looking at you bath Satan), fair bit of character analysis and slight canon divergence(???) plus personal MC involvement.

GONNA PREFACE THIS BY WAVING NY ‘LEVI SIMP’ FLAG UP HIGH, IF THE CARD STORY WAS OFF PUTTING TO YOU OR YOU DISLIKE HIS CHARACTER IN GENERAL THEN MORE POWER TO YOU BUT PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST! IT AIN'T MEANT FOR YOU HOMIE (it's meant for me first and then anyone else who wants to witness my 3am insanity)

Aight? Aight! Here we go gamers

Gonna start this off by saying that when they dropped the first teaser for the card my expectations for the story were jelly Levi wants to replace minhyeok and thus enters MC's memories except surprise surprise it was actually some corn set in a high school (don't pretend those aren't a thing, we're all adults here, and with MC’s track record in that game it would not be surprising) in part because the story had to get spicy at some point.

Personal belief is that what we see in the prologue of Levi is the closest thing to a ‘normal’ him aka a version of him that got to experience a normal childhood and not have all the trauma of… ya know… HIS WHOLE PAST. The way he expected an attack when MC initially trips breaks me in a very particular way, he has never known peace, he expects everything to be some sort of attempt on his or his people’s life. The one time he wasn't as uptight ended up with him heavily injured (Bloodshed card).

There is also him ascertaining that they had different starting points. Now this could refer to a lot of things but to me one thing that does is put a definite line between them. To me it sounds like he's reasoning with himself that because of their very different lives they would be incompatible (combined with that thing about his sin being the only negative one it shows he always separates himself from people he would otherwise form bonds with)

Now he's still not nice, far from it, but he can be accommodating and look out for MC when he is not thinking 24/7 about possibly being attacked. Whether he reasons that it would endear himself more to them or out of pure instinct he looked out for MC, those were not Minhyeok’s actions he mimicked but his own.

So yeah, average Levi is horrendously bad at emotions and frankly probably the one who understands his own emotions towards a potential romantic partner(since tbh that is what MC is) the least. (This is a whole other can of brainworms about how aside from Solomon he probably has not been attached to anyone in that way until MC based on something he says in his H-Scene, but that can of worms shall be opened later) please get some therapists in Hell, clearly everyone would benefit from it.

There is also something impossibly endearing to me about seeing Levi in a high school setting even for a bit because that's not something he ever experienced and I wish his time exploring that part of MC and Minhyeok's past was a bit longer. I want to believe MC gets to ask him later in the story how he felt about it.

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If you were only here for the character analysis then thanks for reading, have a lovely day/night/evening, we are going into wild speculation territory and some personal things regarding my MC Jin in that particular scenario.

tl;dr: After Jin's parents were killed she pretty much secluded herself in their home doing most of her studying through online courses and only showing up physically at school for a couple of days.

I choose to believe she was aware of stuff from the start but in that way you're aware you're in a dream while you sleep, she can tell things are a bit off but not fully what is wrong. She knows the person with her is not Minhyeok, she also knows who Leviathan is, but there's a certain disconnect when trying to piece it all together, but the further the dream goes the more she ‘realises’ and ‘awakens to the truth' if you will.

She cannot help but pity Levi’s situation even if she knows if she ever said that she'd probably get insta-hanged, so a part of her cannot help but wonder if he wanted to experience some normalcy for once. (She's not the brightest tool in the shed so the fact that he wants to replace Minhyeok would not pass by her singular braincell) (I love her I swear, being mean is my love language)

So I imagine after the whole dream thing is over and she next visits Hades she doesn't raise any questions about that event. She seems annoyingly unbothered and not curious at all. If anything this just makes Leviathan more angry because she can't be that unbothered after everything and pretend nothing happened, he should've been the only thing on her mind and yet she still sometimes mentions that detestable human. Oh how he should hang her for it. And then one day she has a conspicuously familiar candy in her mouth. “Was the experience at least a bit pleasant?” She's soft spoken anyway but she sounds almost apologetic. Why yes the experience was quite pleasant if Levi had to be honest but he'd never praise her openly… and then it hits him. She's not asking about that, she's asking about how he felt in a normal human high school.

When she gets no answer she stammers and starts speaking again, trying to fill the void. “I didn't exactly… go there often…” The pauses are plentiful and her shoulders droop almost in shame. “... so I imagine whatever you saw was rather lacklustre… aside from… my pathetic display-”

“It wasn't bad.”

A short sentence and it was enough to make the human girl perk up instantly. From anyone else that would be considered nigh an insult, but with Levi's temperament that was the highest praise she could hope for. By the time Jin was next to his desk after he'd beckoned her with a wave of his hand her visage had brightened significantly. ‘Stealing’ the lollipop from between her lips was ‘child’s play’ after that, the girl clearly took stunned to speak and becoming redder by the second.

“Yes, not bad at all.”