#I really just want to get shit out of my head to help me mourn

[sagehaubitze]

I write a lot to deal with my emotions and to process (right now I am processing a lot of anger, still). I don't share a lot of it, but I did write something to post on fetlife yesterday having to do with my friend, Remy's, death. The circles of people I have over there have no real context or frame of reference for any of it though. Since I'm still vaguely furry-adjacent, I figured maybe people (all like.. five of you) would get more mileage out of it here, so I'm crossposting it.

This is a small tidbit of furry history. Before you fly off the handle and send me anon hate, please take a minute to read all of this through. Plus think about what type of person would absolutely fucking loathe both queer people involved in WWII reenacting, and queer people dressing in uniform to do weird kink shit. (it's supposed to be fascists that idealize the era, they would have an aneurysm, but this is a trick question because apparently everybody loathes it)

Anyway. Pushing the Feldpost Envelope (furries and nazis and death in here.)

"History lesson.

I'm at the third year of my home furcon in 2005, attending opening ceremonies, wearing my officer's cap. All day, I've been nervously eyeing someone also in an officer's cap, albeit a different branch, worried that they're either going to be confrontational, or that they're a bad actor and a bigot. We'd unknowingly run in the same circles for a couple years now, but had yet to cross paths in any significant way until today.

"I like your hat" he smiled and piped up after the ceremonies were over. I, a very anxious sixteen year old girl at the time, had a flood of relief wash over me now that the ice had been broken and he didn't seem like a total asshole (joke's on me, Remy was still an asshole, just usually the good kind). "I like yours too..!" I chimed back. And the rest was history. "Living history", actually.

A couple months prior, Remy had created the Nazi Furs community, which I wound up co-running and co-moderating. The goal was to create a space for people with a genuine interest in history and reenacting (which despite the name wasn't limited to the German side of things) and/or for those who get their rocks off in uniform, a little more tucked away from early 2000s internet shock value, and most importantly protected from actual racists, bigots, and all around pieces of shit (which took a hell of a lot of work). Furries tend to cover the whole gamut of kink, and while Remy and I both leaned further towards the leather subculture, we tried to make space for all of the spectrum as long as it was related to that specific time period in some way.

We were not a popular or well liked group. But we were a necessary group. This is the south, if you weren't a cishet good ol boy, it was frankly just not safe to venture into any reenacting groups around here at the time. So, we made our own space for it, to be gay and weird and ourselves while we ran around in the woods. Even in kink, we tried to push the envelope for what was "acceptable" in the eyes of larger communities and carve out a little trench for ourselves, because often in the most accepting places, people would still take issue (and still do). We did our best to push back against people feeling closeted or ashamed for what they were interested in, kink or not. Don't be a shitty person is all we asked. We were young and we stumbled a lot, but we tried our best.

Ultimately, with the shifting perspectives in the fandom, in kink, and in general with online spaces being cleansed to be more palatable and marketable, we lost the fight. Part of it came from the evolving political environment in the US, it did become impossibly hard to weed out bad actors, and not be seen/assumed as a bad actor yourself. But part of it is from lingering social norms on what is "okay" and "acceptable" (even in alternative subcultures), instead of remembering that some interests can be solely academic and not a reflection of your own personal world views. Bleeding over to kink, it's exactly the same, and some people have forgotten that kink should be weird and ugly and not acceptable, it should challenge your emotions and perspective sometimes. It is the opposite of social norms, it's not meant to be sanitized and diluted down for the masses to consume. It's meant for you, and your self expression, self exploration, and your kameraden who share that with you.

Remy died on January 26th. He was one of my very best friends, and there are not many people left on this planet who know me like he did. I rushed to clean his house of things his mother did not want, or need, to see, because I was the only one left to do so. He is survived by communities that did not want him and refuse to see the work he put in for people to have a place they felt accepted.

I have no place in community anymore. But if anyone reading this feels ostracized for their interests or kinks, I feel the same so deeply inside me that it hurts my soul. You shouldn't have to feel that way. I do not have it in me anymore to try and create a space like Remy and I worked on in the past, but do know that you're not alone. I'll be here. I'm still here somehow."

-----

I would also like to add this summarized post that Remy made to the original group, the last post in the group, in 2017.

"In the wake of recent social unrest, we would like to take a moment to make a statement regarding this community.

Nazi_Furs was created by a bunch of nerds. Yes, you read correctly. A bunch of big old nerdy nerds started nazi_furs to post stories, art, historical articles, images from WWII museums, reenacting and living history events, and sometimes little animated gifs of dancing hitlers that we thought were funny.

Most of our members were card carrying homosexuals. Almost all of our moderators were gay, trans, or some other color of "unacceptable" to ACTUAL NEO-NAZIS.

Many of us have well researched and thought out fursonas that inhabit a world set during WWII era Germany. The setting used in many movies like Bed-knobs and Broomsticks, Indiana Jones, Iron Sky, and Dead Snow lends itself well to fantasy. Setting talking animal people into this backdrop did not seem like such a huge clusterfuck at the time.

Nazis are a cliche', relegated to "the bad guys" in popular culture. The sharp uniforms, advanced military weapons and tactics, crackpot schemes, and paranormal ties are used all the time in modern media. They are a caricature of what they were 70+ years ago, much like ninjas (paid assassins) and pirates (murderers and thieves) are today. Once you have been relegated to a children's Halloween costume you no longer have the influence to command respect or fear.

Let us allow nazis to be just that, a cliche condemned to be the "bumbling bad guys". Let us laugh at them and rob them of any authority they feel they may have. There haven't been any "REAL" nazis since the downfall of the NSDAP in 1945, and any members of that movement would be pushing 90 by now.

The "alt-right" are not nazi_furs. They are hateful individuals putting on costumes pretending to be like people they do not understand who have been dead for years. These people WANT you to associate them with nazis, and calling them that only feeds their egos. Lets try not to do that.

If you take anything away from our group, let it be a reminder of our origins as nerdy nerds pouring over history books, saturating ourselves in history to better understand what happened in the 1930s and 40s. Take a look at our current situation we find ourselves in and ask yourselves if we are all doomed to repeat our past mistakes. Then focus your rage and disapproval in a productive manner. Get out there and vote the real racist out of office. Mobilize in peaceful protest, advocate for the oppressed and downtrodden. Make the world a better place than you found it."

I stepped away from the fandom when my home convention, RCFM, ended after a decade. I had been run into the ground, my wallet taken advantage of entirely too much, and I was burnt out beyond belief. Remy stayed more up to date on fandom things, I know there were issues with other "nazi" groups popping up that were inundated with the alt-right. There was no avoiding getting lumped in with them, so we eventually just enjoyed our interests in silence, away from everyone else.

To be completely honest, the majority of our time was spent in museums and hunting down weirdly specific esoteric research topics, which we'd then attempt to discuss while drunk around a fire (this is the academic way). It wasn't to idolize these people or politics, it was to understand an extremely complicated time period and what was born out of it. There are SO MANY absolutely fascinating aspects to study, not just "woo big scary gun death ubermench". What people saw most though, convention-wise at least, were the room parties where we could let our hair down and be WEIRD. Furcon room parties are fucking weird just as a baseline, throw some uniforms and sadomasochism in, sometimes some LSD, and... I mean yeah. And of course that's all that stuck in anybody's mind. Though, tbh, a lot of the time for the majority of the night, it was just a small circle of friends watching war movies and drinking. We came up with this (not) great idea to take a shot every time there was a depth charge in Das Boot, yeah I can't recommend that lmao.

Even from the reenacting standpoint, Remy was putting together a US medic impression (not even German! *clutches pearls*) over the past few years, because he was an EMT by trade. I've always reenacted a very inept Wehrmacht artillery officer who is a touch cowardly, not great at their job, and is usually relegated to office/paperwork. It's far from the edgy internet shock value people associated us with.

Nowadays I am usually running around in the woods alone, or getting the shit kicked out of me in uniform (consensually). I'm just less visible about it. I wish I didn't have to be. It feels very lonely, extremely so now that I've lost Remy. I think there was a good opportunity somewhere in there to push back against the alt-right by being very VERY gay and trans and queer and weird in uniform, destroy the image they were trying to create for themselves, but the current culture of the internet wouldn't have allowed that. I'm still going to keep doing that, just.. y'know, in my own space, on my own time.

I hope other people are out there being weird too. I'll be weird with you in spirit.

[st-el-la-luna]

Task Force 141 x Reader: Picture Day

NSFW 18+

When a guy keeps sending you unsolicited pictures, you impulsively reach out to your Task Force for help in an... Unconventional way.

→ harassment, non con receiving of nudes, asking for nudes, sending of nudes

You don't want to do this. Really, it's not ideal. It's rash, and impulsive and, oh, right, insanely fucking stupid.

But, you're a spiteful person at heart. And, well, this would be the perfect response...

So, you open the Task Force group chat, type up a message and press send before you can stop yourself.

CorvidCorporal: hey guys

CorvidCorporal: can I ask a favour?

You don't have to wait long for a reply.

Captain Price: What is it, Corporal?

Ghost: No

DontDropthe: you know where to find me 😉

Gazoline: everything okay?

You sigh, type up another message, worrying your lip between your teeth.

CorvidCorporal: it's nothing serious

CorvidCorporal: just... weird

Captain Price: What is it?

Gazoline: weird how?

You bury your face in your hands for a moment, considering if you're really about to do this. Your phone buzzes again, a notification from a different chat. You open it and holy shit, another one? Hell no. You're going through with this.

You head back to the Task Force group chat.

DontDropthe: weird is my specialty

You can't believe you're doing this.

You type and retype the message a couple of times before eventually just pressing send. You shut your phone off, face burning, not wanting to think about what you just did.

CorvidCorporal: I need a dick pic

The little markers on the bottom of the screen indicating people are typing vanish then start up again. Vanish. Start up again. Vanish.

Oh, you're fucked.

What the hell were you thinking?! These were your coworkers! Your superiors! Your boss!

You scramble to explain yourself.

CorvidCorporal: forget I said anything!

CorvidCorporal: it's just this guy keeps sending me them unsolicited from different accounts because I keep blocking his ass

CorvidCorporal: I figured the best way to get him to stop would be to send one back

CorvidCorporal: you know a real power move

CorvidCorporal: just really blindside em

CorvidCorporal: but well... I lack the parts and if I were just to go to google the guy could easily figure that shit out

CorvidCorporal: it was stupid and impulsive and I'm so sorry I asked

CorvidCorporal: please don't fire me I need this job

CorvidCorporal: guys?

The entire chat is dead. But their icons show that each and everyone of them is still active. Even Ghost.

You curse yourself internally and knock your head against the wall. You shut your phone off and toss it away. Too overwhelming. Too much. You can't... Why did you do that?!

You sit on the foot of your bunk and mourn your career, face in your hands. Dishonorable discharge no doubt in your future... You're such an idiot!

Your phone buzzes from across the room. You ignore it.

Except it buzzes again. And again. And again. And–

By the seventh text tone you go to pick it up, almost feeling sick from the nasty knot of anxiety and dread in your gut.

You open the group chat.

You close the group chat.

Holy shit.

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

Gazoline: jesus christ soap

Gazoline: see (2) attachments

DontDropthe: see (3) attachments

Fif– sixteen pictures. Two from Gaz and fourteen from Soap.

Holy shit.

Your phone goes off again.

Captain Price: Let me know if you need anything else, Corporal

Captain Price: see (3) attachments

What the fuck?

Soap has moved on to sending you pictures directly. You dismiss a call from him in a blind panic. He immediately sends a video.

You type into the group chat with shaking hands.

CorvidCorporal: thanks

Gazoline: anytime

DontDropthe: it's only fair if you send them back

DontDropthe: i understand if your shy

DontDropthe: my doors unlocked

Captain Price: *you're

In the end, you got more than enough material to choose from.

Three from Price. Seven from Gaz. A whopping twenty nine from Soap.

You're still deciding on what picture to send (and on calming your racing heart and ignoring the growing heat between your thighs) when your phone goes off again.

Ghost: see attachment

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masterlist!

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[moonstruckme]

hi mae:) would you be willing to write a sirius x reader fic where reader just gets hammered and spills all of her family trauma to sirius? like, she’s no longer in that environment because she moved out but they were just really mean and terrible to her and she’s never told sirius but then she finally does and he’s just like “poor baby, let me tell you all of the love and reassurance you never got as a child:(“

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

You worry you’ve traumatized your boyfriend. 

Sirius has you tucked firmly under his chin, both arms squishing you to his front, and you’re not sure if the rocking is for you or him or possibly both. 

“Sirius,” you murmur, some of the vowels lost due to your malfunctioning tongue. “Baby, m’sorry.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” Your boyfriend’s voice sounds thin. He’s had a bit less to drink than you, but his words still sound like they’re written in cursive, strung together by thick emotion. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

You sigh. It feels nice, being cocooned in his warmth like this. He’s squeezing you just tight enough to be comfortable, and he smells more like himself than like rum. Your next inhale, you focus on it. Clove and nighttime. 

“I shouldn’t’ve dumped on you like this,” you admit.

“Yes you should have.” Sirius’ lips press firmly to the top of your head. “Sweetheart, I only wish you’d told me sooner. Why didn’t you?” 

His sympathy is bringing you dangerously close to tears again. Your first wave has only just dried. “Because I know it’s a lot,” you say, attempting to swallow the blockage in your throat. “S’not like you don’t have your own family shit to deal with. And anyway, I moved out.” 

“Baby.” Sirius sounds devastated. “I don’t care what shit I have, it doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about yours, too. I always do.” His fingers bunch in the fabric of your top, short nails scratching lightly against the skin underneath. “And I know better than fucking anyone that moving out helps, but it doesn’t fix everything. It can—you can still hurt.” 

Where Sirius’ chin touches your forehead, you feel a hot tear drip onto your skin. A pained sound slips from your throat as you pull away from him, taking his face between your hands. 

And you’d expected him to look upset, mournful even, but Sirius looks livid. Every sharp angle of his beautiful face is wrathful, silent tears gleaming on his cheeks and dark brows lowered over stormcloud eyes. His hands stay bunched in your top as if he means to keep you tethered to him by sheer force of will. 

“You’re good,” he tells you, voice quavering with conviction. “You’re lovely, and kind, and more than enough. Got it?” 

“Siri,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness from his cheeks. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” he insists. Some of the harshness has waned from his expression, though, under your gentle touch. “Nobody should ev—” His voice splinters, and Sirius looks frustrated with himself. You want to roll the both of you up in the comforter of your bed and never come out. “Should ever treat their kid that way,” he finishes. He looks you in your eyes, fierce in his earnestness. “I’m gonna love you so hard those fuckers will regret not giving it to you sooner.” 

Though you try to stop it, a corner of your mouth tips up. “I love you, too, baby. You can love me as hard as you want.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” He cracks a smile at your salacious tone. You stop trying to hold back the rest of your grin, and he grabs your face in both hands, smashing his lips to yours. 

The kiss is firm but not harsh, so fond it makes your heart feel like a bruise. Sirius moves to your forehead next. 

“My baby,” he says against your skin, both amused and ardent. Drops his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna make up for it. I’m gonna give you everything you never got back then. Do you have any idea how much I love you, sweet thing?” 

“I love you, too,” you promise him, pushing against his forehead lightly with your own. “Don’t worry, you already make up for everything.” 

[parfaitblogs]

loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black.  word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people. 

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again. 

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship. 

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you. 

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though. 

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't. 

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person? 

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap. 

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset. 

At which he shushed you. You listened. 

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things. 

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him. 

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips. 

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends. 

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could. 

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up. 

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent. 

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face. 

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance. 

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked. 

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed. 

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[lis-likes-fics]

spencer reid drabble

tw: none, fluff. 1.1k words

“I don’t wanna do it.”

Your hands clench so tight that the skin is pulled taut over your knuckles. You look down at Spencer, your whole body stiff and rigid with anxiety. He watches you, offering a kind smile as he holds his hands out for you in support. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You shake your head, holding on tighter. Uncertainty lives in your bones. “I don’t know…”

He shrugs, a light chuckle coming as a breath through his nose. “Well, you have to come down eventually.”

You hug the thick tree branch tighter, shaking your head as he watches you from the ground. You were walking and saw this huge tree and you wanted to see if you could climb it. Spencer fully agreed that you had the ability and then went on to explain why you could do it, but you really wanted to climb the tree. And now you’re stuck, and you’re so high up that getting down makes you want to shit your pants.

Okay, maybe you aren’t that high, but it’s high enough to break a bone if you fall the wrong way. So it counts.

You sigh, looking down at Spencer and contemplating just jumping down with no intention of ever actually ever doing it. “Can you come up with me instead?”

Spencer chuckles, he can’t help it. You’re adorable.

He tucks some hair behind his ear, tilting his head to the side. “It’s about to rain,” he points out, observing the storm clouds beginning to gather above you. “You have to come down, or you’ll get sick.”

You raise a brown accusingly, adjusting your position so that you lean on the your side. “You said that was a myth.” You pluck a tiny branch of leaves off the tree and throw it down at it. It’s pathetic because it pratically floats down and misses him entirely.

“That act of raining itself isn’t what causes sickness, it’s the elevation of bacteria and viruses from the ground and into the air caused by rain that makes it easier to affect an individual.”

You grumle something under your breath about bacteria kissing your ass—which Spencer thinks is funny. Because he thinks you’re funny.

You adjust your footing so you can lounge back on another branch, looking far more comfortable than you should, given that you’re supposed to be anxious. “Are my chances better by staying in this tree?” You pat the branch you’re leaning on—thankfully, it doesn’t move.

“I mean,” he smiles, “if you’re stuck in the tree and it rains, you could get sick from being out in the cold and wet for too long.”

You sigh heavily, nodding your head and sucking your tooth. “So I have to come down?”

Spencer closes his eyes as a raindrop falls on his cheek. His smile grows, showing off every pearly white. “Well, I just felt a drop,” he wipes it away and rubs his hands together, “so the answer is likely yes.”

You let out another long sigh, scrunching your face into a mournful grimance. You whine, “Okay.” You turn to find a grip on the branch again.

He holds his hands up again, shifting on his feet. “I will catch you,” he promises.

You scoff, securing your foot in a crook. “I’m not jumping. You think I’m crazy?”

He laughs again. “Come down, sweetheart.”

Carefully, you begin your descent, moving so slowly that you’re definitely not dodging the rain. Spencer’s theory is proved correct when more and more raindrops fall onto his face. He waits patiently, nevertheless.

You hang off a branch as your foot reaches for a little groove in the tree, but before you can secure it, you slip and lose your hold immediately. A yelp escapes you when you fall back, and you close your eyes in bracing for the fall.

But Spencer’s got you. His arms close around your body, and he holds you securely, dearly. You open one eye to look at him, dramatic and enjoying it. “See?” he smiles. “Nothing to worry about.”

You sigh gently, patting his chest and offering a grin of your own. “You're strong.”

He sets you on your feet, looking over you to make sure you're okay. By this point, his clothes are damp with a light layer of rain, and there's water dripping off his hair. “Well,” he sighs, “I can't bench 400 pounds like Morgan can, but I can hold my own with someone as light as you.” He sets his hand on the side of your neck fondly.

You raise a hand to hold his wrist and pretend to be offended. “I'm not that light.”

He chuckles, taking a step toward you. He kisses you, water dripping down the bridge of his nose and onto your cheek. You're both wet, standing in the rain like they do in those cheesy romcoms.

“Shouldn't we get inside?” you ask as you blink water from your eyes.

His lips lift at the corner, and you fawn at the sight. “One more kiss won't hurt.” And who are you to deny?

~

Spencer's mug warms your hands as you bring it into the living room, where he lounges on the couch with an arm over his eyes, bundled in blankets. You ease on the arm of the couch, passing the mug as he looks up at you.

“You feeling any better, honey?” He sits up enough to take the offered mug in his hands. His fingers curl around it as you slide next to him, nudging some hair from over his forehead.

“A bit,” he hums, taking a burning sip to counter the chill running up his spine. He sets the mug down and smiles, “Maybe a kiss will help?” He stares hopefully.

You raise a brow. “I'm sorry,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You're the sickling riddled with bacteria.”

He shrugs. “Still safer than a handshake.”

You raise a brow, hooking your finger under his chin and speaking softly. “Are you lying to me?”

“Maybe.”

A soft chuckle shivers through you. You kiss his forehead, smoothing your hand to cup his jaw and stroking your thumb over his cheek. “That's my compromise.”

He smiles, his eyes still delicately closed. “I'll take it.” He shifts so he lays with his head in your lap. His face turns as he lifts your shirt just enough to press his lips to the soft skin of your belly. It tickles a bit.

“Funny how you're the one who ended up getting sick,” you tease. You run your hand through his hair and rub his shoulder.

He hums heavily, like he'll pass out any moment now. “Worth it,” he mumbles into your lap.

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[justawriterofstuff]

Happy birthday to Jason

(A/N: MDNI; TW for breast play, nipple play, praise kink, edging, rough sex, and very sexual content.)

"Ngh...shit...oh god..." Jason groaned, as he was splayed out on your lap, the both of ya'll on the bed.

It was an amazing sight; the hulking mass of Jason rendered helpless in your arms, your arm wrapped around his thick torso, your other hand stroking his thick cock.

"Remember your safe word, Jay." you reminded him, but he shook his head.

"N-no. Feels too good..." he trailed off, and when you felt his cock twitch, getting ready to come, you stopped altogether.

He let out a whine of frustration as you denied him release.

"Seriously...again?" he choked out, trying to gather his bearings.

"Don't complain baby, or I'll make it even worse for you." You replied, kissing his cheek, salt on your lips as frustrated tears went down his face.

After about twenty more minutes of that, you finally let him release, his body jerking upwards, muscles strained as he lets out a gasp, and groan.

His hands clutch at the sheets underneath him, and your hand is covered with his thick, hot seed.

Cleaning him off, you rub down his shivering and aching limbs, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes.

"Is that all you had the stamina for today, Jay?" you asked, smoothing out his hair from his face.

His eyes opened instantly at that, the darkest shade of green boring into yours.

"No, I want to do it all. Just...let me catch my breath." he replied, and you nod, tracing his autopsy scars gently.

It'd been six months before he re-entered your life from coming back from the dead, six months of him running around as a powerful drug lord known as The Arkham Knight that destroyed several drug rings.

And then he had sought you out.

You'd mourn him for the past six years, and now, just like that, he was back in your life, making you feel like you were fourteen again, and helping him stop crime.

And now here you were, celebrating his birthday by giving him the full sexual experience, since he'd been so busy being used as a soldier, and then trying to seek revenge on Bruce before he found you. You'd already jerked him off for about an hour or two (with breaks of course), and Jason had been adamant about trying out all the positions.

The next one he wanted to do with you?

Sixty-nine, of course.

Jason took a deep breath in as his gaze landed on yours. There was heat, hunger, and love in his gaze, and you smiled at him.

"I'm ready." he said softly, and you laid him on his back, wiping off the sweat from his body. You undressed as he watched, his cock springing back to life.

The motherfucker was huge. And he knew it.

Once fully undressed, you kissed him messily, tracing the planes of his chest, and then stomach. His breathing had gone rough, and it was one of the things you loved most about him.

He went feral when you touched him.

"Ready?" you asked him, and he nods as you saddle him reverse cowgirl, except scooted up to his face. His hands cupped your ass, a soft sound escaping him as he groped you a little.

"Whoa..." he whispered, and you felt a thrill of pride at yourself.

Carefully, you lowered yourself on his face, and then you went down on his straining erection.

You licked the base, coating it generously with saliva, and stroking it, his hips jerking a bit. He's still so sensitive, and you feel his tongue shyly lap at your cunt, the sensation making you moan a little.

"You're doing such a good job, baby." you praise him, and that really pushes him to continue on, his tongue accidentally brushing against your clit.

You suck in a breath, and shudder, Jason noticing your reaction, he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt.

"Oh...fuck..." you curse, and he eagerly continues, making you take his cock in eagerly, as you suck on him

Jason moans into your pussy, his grip on your ass tightening, as he continues on licking your cunt, and you're just as busy sucking his cock.

Jason won't admit it, but he came first, yours following soon after. As you slid off of him, and collapsed on the bed next to him, his breathing erratic, you watch him with a smug expression.

"Give me another ten minutes." he says, and you nod, rubbing his chest up and down.

Ten minutes later...

You're on your back as Jason is over your naked body, his lips kissing yours lazily. One of his hands cups your breasts, his fingers rubbing your nipple.

He's curious about you, his hands roaming all over your body, his calloused palms making goosebumps run up and down your body.

It's so fucking hot, and your core is pulsing with need.

"Guide me?" he asks, and you nod, cupping his condom-covered cock into your entrance.

You're not a virgin anymore but holy fuck does he stretch you out. He's panting, his muscles straining as he grasps your hips, entering inch by inch into you.

"Oh...fuck..." you gasp out.

"God...you feel so good." he said in between clenched teeth.

"Whenever you're ready, let loose-"

You don't even finish the sentence before he's slamming into you, his hands on your hips gripping you so tight.

You're letting out noises, his eyes on your face, and your bouncing breasts. That seems to encourage him to go into you even harder, his face leaning down and biting your nipple, biting your breasts.

"Oh...shit...God...yes Jason." you cry out, and all of a sudden, he's picking you up, thighs being held sturdy by his grasp, and he's spearing into you, your hands clutching on to his back for dear life.

"Oh God, Y/N, your pussy wraps around my dick so good." he groans out, and he's moving faster and rougher, and you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but some still slip out.

Jason doesn't last long before again he comes, but as he slips it out, he switches out the condom instead.

"I didn't make you come." he says, and he lies you on your stomach, arching your hips back up.

You say a quick prayer as he goes back to ravishing you.

It shouldn't last long, right?

Three hours later...

You're limp on the bed, Jason laying next to you. So many positions you got to show him, and then he really showed you how far his stamina went.

A sheen of sweat covers the both of your bodies, and Jason looks over at you.

"Did I hurt you? I didn't right?" he asks, and you turn to him, dazed.

"I know I have some experience, but not that much." you reply, and he pulls you closer into a cuddle. "You know you still have presents to open, right?" you ask him.

"I literally don't want to leave this bed. I have no more in me to stay upright." he replies, and you feel smug as well.

Just as much as you're tired out, so is he.

"Happy birthday Jason." you tell him, as you kiss his temple just before he passes out.

[rogueddie]

Disabled Steve / Eddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦻

give me a sign

findmeinthewychelm

It was sweet torture the way Steve was pining over him. Robin was sick of listening to him talk about Eddie, but she also hadn’t stopped him yet.

Words : 4,235 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

what would you trade the pain for (i'm not sure)

Library_of_Gage

Steve doesn't bother anyone with his chronic pain; it's something he'd rather keep to himself. And then it spikes in the Upside Down, in front of Eddie Munson, and Steve slowly starts to learn that, sometimes, sharing what hurts does help.

Words : 8,230 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Our Love is Shown in the Letting Go

Xxbottlecapxx

Steve’s mother comes home and has to deal with the fact that she has no idea who her son is, and maybe never will.

Words : 10,189 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Who Am I to Say What Any of This Means?

IndigoFudge

Eddie’s eyebrows are raised. He’s speaking deliberately. “My first grade teacher set up a meeting with Wayne and told him she thought I had autism. So Wayne took me to the doctors and it turned out she was right.”

He is still looking at Steve. Oh. Steve’s been staring at him like an idiot for forty seconds instead of acknowledging this important, incredibly personal detail that he has just shared. Steve remembers eye contact––one, two, three––then answers. “That’s cool.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, carefully. “Have you ever been tested? Because I’ve been noticing… When I look at you, I kinda see some signs.”

Words : 7,371 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

she'll know me crazy, soothe me daily (better yet, she wouldn't care)

jewishrat420

Eddie doesn’t really cry about this anymore. He’s long since shed his own personal tears of pity, spent enough time mourning a different life. He’s accepted it, for the most part, doesn’t really give a shit about being normal or whatever. No one’s normal.

But this…Eddie’s not used to this. He’s never had someone hold his face in their hands, look him dead in the eyes and say, “Eddie Munson. For better or for worse, and fuck, I know this is worse, I want to know you.”

Words : 3,988 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

the beginning of a bad joke

alligator_writes

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

Words : 7,083 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I Took The Good Times, I’ll Take The Bad Times (I Take You Just The Way You Are)

steddieeddie

In 1984, Eddie Munson told Steve he was going to marry him one day laying in the quiet confines of Steve’s room.

In 1985, they broke up. It wasn’t because they wanted to, but because Steve thought they had to. They spent almost an entire year apart, hurting, wondering about what could have been.

In 1986, Steve Harrington was almost fatally injured in the final attack against The Upside Down, against Vecna. He spent seventy six days comatose, and then almost an entire year in the hospital learning how to be a person again. He learns how to open and close his hands, hold things, and how to feed himself again. Steve learns how to stand, how to walk, going from walker to cane by the time he is allowed to go home.

In 1987, he did just that. He goes home.

It was a slow process. Way slower than Steve wanted it to be, but it was worth it.

Sure, his hands were never going to work the same, there was constant pain in his arms and left leg, and he would never walk without a cane, but at least he’s alive.

He made it.

That was what mattered.

Words : 30,101 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[munsonkitten]

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.

Read more on AO3

[yuri-is-online]

Hi, there (again)!

If it's not too much trouble, make a second and last request, I can request

Pronto: (5) seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

With Trey, Silver And Sebek?

In case of passing me orders you can discard my order. Take your time and at your pace, bye 🌠🌌✍️💐

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

Hello again yourself! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that this was the most popular prompt huh (ﾟωﾟ；) Sorry I took so long to get back around to this one, I hope it was not too frustrating a wait I find it a bit difficult to wrap my head around Sebek.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Rook is a bit dramatic (Trey), light injury but nothing descriptive (Silver), some misunderstandings quickly cleared (Sebek). The rest of the event requests can be found here.

Trey

"My beloved, hath thou truly forgotten me? Tis I! Your sweetheart!"

In a scene out of a particularly annoying, tropey rom com, the thought dead lover throws themselves into the... indifferent arms of a most unwilling extra around whose shoulders have been draped a lab coat to serve as a makeshift cape. Trey should be focusing on his strawberries, or maybe the grip he has on the watering can, but it is getting much more difficult to ignore the farce going on just out of his line of sight. Sure, Trey trusts you, he isn't worried you are going to leave him for Rook of all people he's just worried that you're uncomfortable. That's it. That's why he keeps glancing at the lab coat and not listening to the dialogue.

"Thine eyes doth not deceive thee?" You know you're supposed to put effort into line delivery, but you literally just got this script ten seconds ago so you hope Rook' expectations are low. "I hath been adventuring in a distant land these many moons, thinking only of returning to thee and thine-" your face immediately wrinkles "Rook I'm not saying this shit."

"Non non," Rook shakes his head, dropping character only for a second "You will not be saying them, your character will be saying them." He settles back into his role making doe eyes up at you as you swear you hear the sound of something snapping just behind you. Probably your patience.

"Thine eyes doth not deceive thee, I hath been adventuring in a distant land these many moons, thinking only of returning to thee and thine embrace." the script calls for Rook to dip you, but instead of Le chasseur d’amour you find yourself gently pulled back by your makeshift cape into the arms of a knight.

"Sorry," the "cape" falls to the ground as Trey spins you into a dip, complete with the lengthy kiss the script called for "but I don't have anything cool to say." And yet the way he holds you, the strain in his smile and the angry slit his eyes have slimmed to is very cool. Very rare is the sight of genuine frustration on Trey Clover's face, rarer still the glare. Rook is well and truly enraptured, and now it's your turn to feel jealous.

"Chevalier des Roses! I certainly hope I did not overstep-" That bastard is grinning, almost like he was deliberately trying to poke the bear.

"Of course not." Trey pulls you up, arm wrapped firmly around your waist. "I just need to get a new watering can from storage and was wondering if Yuu wanted to come with me." Ha "ask" as if he is intending on letting you go, his grip hasn't loosened one bit.

Silver

"I'm sorry we weren't able to be of more help, prefect." The kitchen ghost's mournful face looks painfully out of place, you're so used to seeing their big smiles you almost feel like you're the one who screwed up.

"It's ok, really! Please don't feel bad, I'm not going to quit just because we had one little accident." Technically, it was not a little accident, otherwise you would still be wearing your clothes and not a master chef approved chef's jacket, but in pursuit of enlightenment one must be willing to make a few sacrifices. If making coffee could be considered a culinary pursuit.

"I'm very glad to hear that," some of the ghost's usual pep returns, along with it his seriousness as an instructor "but no more attempts today, you hear me? Make sure to put a compress on your arm when you get back to Ramshackle and put some ointment on it. I'll never forgive myself if your burn gets worse." You give a mock salute, carefully cradling the single thermos of coffee you had managed to salvage from your lessons close to your chest with your non injured arm.

"Aye aye captain, I'll make sure to come back to pick up my shirt after I've changed." And you did fully intended to do that if you hadn't run into the exact person your little delivery was for on your way back to your dorm. Silver pauses when he sees you, with a strange tight look on his face you don't recognize that doesn't disappear as you get closer. If anything it gets worse, and he doesn't snap out of it even when you're directly in front of him.

"Silver?" You try one more time and he startles, face slipping back into his normal listlessness.

"Sorry, I don't really know what came over me." So he says, but his attention remains firmly fixed on the coat even if his look is passive. "I didn't realize there were Master Chef classes going on."

"Oh there aren't, I just had a small accident." You say, subconsciously reaching for your sleeve as if you can hide a burn by drawing attention to it. It's a reflex, much like Silver's reach, his fingers careful not to irritate the bruised skin. "Silver?" You ask, trying to find the words you need to reassure him.

"I don't like red on you." He says, so oddly serious it takes you a second to realize he isn't really looking at the burn, no his attention is on your chef's jacket and it's offensive Heartslabyul badge. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me... I should be more concerned about the burns."

"Funny," you laugh ignoring his embarrassment "I think green looks nice on you."

Sebek

Sebek isn't very good at saying what he means. You know this, you love him in spite of this. It makes him feel very lucky, and he has no real problem telling people this. Silver was by far the person who heard him brag about you the most, even if he attempted to downplay just how happy he was to be with you it wasn't like he could hide very much from his friend. Which was what made this situation so... confusing. Hurtful even, Sebek doesn't have words for what he is feeling because "jealous" just feels petty but "distressed" feels pathetic. And he is neither of those things. In his opinion. Because being jealous is something insecure people do, and he is not insecure nor does he not trust Silver.

So why then why is he in so much physical pain?

"Hmph, I expect short sighted napping from Silver, but I was starting to expect better from you." Sebek can't tell who is more surprised that he isn't shouting, you or him. Hell, his tone is so normal Silver hasn't moved from his slumped position against one of the courtyard apple trees. You had been lying on the grass, waiting for him he knows as a fact even if his hammering heart is doubting it.

"Sorry, I couldn't wrap my head around some of the figures Crewel went over in class so I was up late studying." You sit up as you answer him, Silver's jacket falling off of your shoulders and taking Sebek's narrow gaze with it. "I guess I lost track of time."

"Did you ask Silver for help." It's a question but he doesn't voice it as one, there's genuine hurt on your face that pushes him back from anger into embarrassment and shame. You just look confused, looking down at the coat crumpled across your legs then back up at his still on his person and-

Laughing. You start to laugh and the lightest twinge of anger returns firmly setting his face into a cross between a scowl and a pout.

"H-hey I'm being serious. I'm Lord Malleus's retainer, diligent study is not something I will scold you for! I can help you stay awake!" His begging just makes you laugh harder, which should make him angrier but you're smiling. You are smiling and the silliness of the situation really settles on him. Sebek talks to Silver about you all the time, of course Silver would be just as worried as he would if he found you asleep on the courtyard green. There is no challenge to his honor or ability as a partner here, just the friendly concern over the partner of a brother knight.

"I know you are Sebek." You stand up, scrambling over to return Silver his coat before falling naturally into you place at his side and returning his smug pride to his posture. "Can I ask you some questions about those equations? I remember things better when I picture them in your voice."

"Of course!" Said voice booms back to life, the shout finally doing it's job in cracking Silver awake. "Make sure you don't take your eyes off of me for a second, Yuu!"

[nian-7]

I have a request if thats okay for you! Take your timee!!

The reader gets stabbed in the chest And literally coughing blood and shit and dies and literally a minute later they are like "hi :3" (they literally have a shit eating smile as if they didnt just die a few minutes ago) while they are literally wasting tears for them and they just look at the reader still crying but looks like theyre about to slap the reader, the reason for them not dying just yet is because they literally have two lives and just used one for this (lets say crack if you will lol.) Ty!!

Includes: Jing yuan, Yanqing, Blade, Serval

Y anon </33

hello! this is a funny concept so please enjoy!

Serval, Jing Yuan, Yanqing x gn!reader

✧having two lives

✧crack, tw: blood, injuries

" It's gonna be alright, (name)- " She was kneeled beside your bleeding body in the snowy outskirts of Belobog. It had just been a short trip out and neither of you had expected to get attacked. You tried getting up as she forced you back to laying down. " Please, just lay down while we wait for the Silvermane Guards. " She had a sad look on her face as she spoke.

" I'll- " You coughed, making her flinch as she saw blood come out from your mouth. " I'll be- okay.. " Your breath was getting shallow as she helped you sit up to prevent you from choking on your own blood.

" Just rest, it'll be okay, yeah? They'll be here soon to take you to a doctor. " She assured, not wanting you to feel anxious or scared.

" You know.. " You started, looking over at her. " You really are a great girlfriend. " You gave a weak smile as you felt her squeeze your hand. She felt you go limp as she held you up, your hand no longer grabbing her own.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at you, death had finally come to take you after you had bled out.

Your nose then scrunched up.

" Gross, what is that smell? " You opened your eyes, looking at Serval then back down at you. " Don't cry, I'm alive. " You smiled, her face was covered in disbelief.

" You- but you died? " She wiped a tear that was in her eye.

" Yeah but, I have two lives! Two! " You put up two fingers, much like a peace sign, and put it towards her. " I just used one so I have one more! " She sighed and hugged you tightly.

" ...Thank god. "

You found yourself being carried in the General's arms after you had been fatally wounded on a mission. You'd manage to get away even so, he feared you had little time left.

" I'm sure you will be alright, (name). " He looked down at you in his arms as he headed back towards the Luofu. " You must not worry. "

" Ah.. yeah, but it really hurts- Like really, really hurts. " You winced as you touched the wound on your abdomen.

" Refrain from touching it, I would not like for you to get an infection on top of such a fatal wound. " He had a stern yet caring look as he looked at you.

" Sorry, I just need to close my eyes for a bit.. " You felt your eyes fluttering closed as his eyes widened at you.

" (name), please try to keep your eyes open. We'll be th- " Your eyes had already closed, your body limp in his arms. Your weight now felt like dead weight as he stopped, looking down at your now lifeless form. " Ah.. " He needed to get you back as soon as he could, he shouldn't mourn you here.

You let out a sigh, your eyes opening once again.

" Sorry about that- Seems like I died though, huh? " You looked up at him. " I'm fine now, onwards! Back home! "

You heard him sigh as he started walking again. " You got me there. I truly believed you had died on me. It was not a pleasant feeling. I do have many questions for you alas, you should rest for now. "

" (name)! (name)! Don't fall asleep! " Yanqing sat beside you has you held your side. He had called for back up and a doctor but refused to leave you alone when you were like this. " You gotta stay awake, okay?! " His voice betrayed him as he talked to you, sadness was evident in it.

" Alright, alright.. I'm trying, " You let out a laugh. " I'll be fine, don't worry, okay? Just a little stab wound isn't going to get me. " You squeezed his hand gently.

" Just- stay awake! " He held your hand close to his chest as he looked at you. " You just gotta! " You gave a nod back as his eyes became glassy.

" Don't cry, Yanqing- " You coughed, going limp for a minute. Yanqings eyes started to water as he gently shook you.

" (name)?! " You let out a shaky breath a moment later, tears had started to come out of his eyes. He hugged you tightly.

" Yanqing! Not so tight! " You patted his back, signaling for him to loosen his grip.

" I'm just- just super happy you're okay! " He wiped the tears from his eyes. " Don't fall asleep again, okay? I'm going to stay right here and make sure you don't! "

" Alright, I promise.. " You smiled at the boy.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[bunnie-online]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter {A.S.}

getting into an argument with ani & your parental issues are brought up

warnings: NO SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT BUT MY BLOG IS 18+ ONLY. hurt/comfort, parental issues lol, crying, Anakin is lowkey mean i’m sorry ✋🏽😔, not accurate SW lore, one use of ‘y/n’, d3ath mention.

Anakin was so done with today. it was friday afternoon and he had just endured 8 hours of training and then a 2 hour meeting with the Jedi Council where he was scolded for a rash decision he made on his most recent mission. to say Anakin was frustrated was the understatement of the century.

you weren’t having a great day either, it was your fathers birthday. he had left you and your mother to start a new family when you were in your early teens. shortly after that your mother spiraled into depression and had tossed you out. you escaped to Coruscant and happened to be found by Master Windu who took you under his wing.

the weeks of what used to be important family events were always difficult. especially birthdays. you couldn’t wait to curl up into your boyfriend’s arms and feel the weight of the day melt away.

Anakin made his way to your quarters, wanting to do the same. his walk was all a blur until he reached your door. Anakin walked into your apartment ready to collapse into you. he found you curled up on the couch, looking forlorn.

“hey, angel. what’s wrong?” his voice soft and obviously sullen. you lift your head, your face tear stained. “oh it’s just my dads birthday..” you trail off. Anakin sighed. “oh that again.” he sounded slightly annoyed.

granted you’ve been sulking about this all week, but you had a right to. you missed normalcy, you missed coming home from school on your father’s birthday and giving him handmade cards you crafted so carefully. you missed the delicious birthday dinner your mother made and hiding his gifts behind your back, making him guess what it was. you missed sitting on his lap and helping him blow out his candles after singing to him loudly and in between giggles. it sickens you to think about his new children doing all of those things you thought we sacred to him, just as they were to you.

“what does that mean?” you ask, getting defensive. “nothing, angel.” he corrected his tone, realizing what he had done. “no. what did you mean by that?” you doubled down, standing up and walking closer to him. “again? again?! oh i’m sorry that i’m mourning my family.” you cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes.

Anakin scoffs. “you have to be kidding. it just slipped out i didn’t even mean it like that.” he steps closer to you. “obviously you meant something, Anakin. you wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.” your eyes threw daggers into his. “angel, can we just drop it? i had a long day i just wanna relax.” he reaches his hand out to touch your arm. you pull back harshly. “darling, come on.”

“no! you have the audacity to tell me to ignore a comment like that?! really?!” your voice gaining volume. Anakin pressed his palm against his forehead, his anger building. “love, i didn’t even mea-“ he starts. “don’t even try to throw that shit at me again.” you interrupt him.

“you aren’t the only one without parents, y/n!!” he yells. you jump back. Anakin had never yelled at you before. “i held my mother as she passed away after not seeing her for ten. years! you aren’t the only one mourning!”

you were too shocked to speak, but your face said everything. after what felt like an eternity, Anakin’s face softened, he realized what had came out of his mouth. “angel…baby…i am- i am so sor-.” “don’t.” you interrupt him again. “i know- i know i’m not the only one mourning. i know you don’t have parents either but i still supported you. i held you after every nightmare, flashback, anxiety attack, everything. i still do.” your voice cracked often as you choked down tears.

“if you were annoyed with my sulking, you could’ve shut it out like you do to me every time something bothers you.” you started walking past him, he tried to grab you by your bicep. “get the fuck away from me, Anakin.” you state coldly, his eyes widen. you’ve never spoken to him in that way. you push past him and walk out of your own apartment.

Anakin stood there, not only shocked at your actions but also his. he’s always been so caring not matter how his day went, he always held space for you. and you held space for him. the tears welling up in his eyes finally spilt over, his usually stoic face contorted as he cried.

you stormed out to the garden, finding a bench in a secluded area. you sat there and cried for what seemed like forever. you cried until your head throbbed and your lungs were sore.

Anakin had to make this right, he couldn’t leave you like this. the sound of leaves crunching behind you nearly scared you out of your skin.

Anakin placed a blanket over your shoulders before sitting down next to you. “angel. i am so sorry. truly. this week was exhausting and i have no right to take it out on you.” he wraps one of his arms around you and you melt into his warmth. “i forgive you, Ani. and i’m sorry too. i know you’re also grappling with your own feelings. i never meant to appear selfish.”

“i love you, my angel.” his plants a kiss on your temple. “i love you too, Ani.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this was my first time writing hurt/comfort pls don’t bully meeee

~bunnie

[thebibliosphere]

What is the gameplay like on Gotham Knights? I have poor coordination so I have trouble with anything more complex than LOZ: Ocarina of Time. Like, on a scale of Pokémon->Dragon Age->LOZ->Dark Souls?

It's a bit clunky like Dragon Age 2, tbh. Except it doesn't have the excuse of coming out in 2011. The mechanics and camera controls are one of the things that let it down a lot, IMO.

I’m constantly getting stuck on walls and the edge of ledges because the controls feel laggy and the game’s not consistent about which surfaces you can climb and which ones you need to grapple. It's fine if you’re fighting in more open spaces but it turns the timed events into an exercise in frustration. Not to mention the number of times it feels like I’ve taken damage through an obstacle from enemy ranged attacks when my own ranged attacks bounce off invisible walls if I’m not standing in the exact spot the game needs me to be in. This results in me just key smashing melee a lot until every around me stops twitching.

I’m still enjoying it, but it is v. glitchy and I understand why people are leaving angry reviews. Especially if they are deeply committed to the immersive elements and were expecting the same level of polish from the Arkham games, which this studio also made.

I’m just casual enough a gamer that I’m enjoying muttering “parkour” to myself as I accidentally fall off buildings and plumet to my death because my graple hook glitched out and went the exact opposite way I’d been aiming.

I’m really just playing it for the characters. It feels like playing a a game written by people who understand the appeal of found family that went hard on the campier elements of the franchise while still maintaining a decent level of aching sadness for the tragedy they’ve endured.

You can feel the group fracturing under the weight of Bruce’s death with Dick doing everything he can to fill the void and stay positive and “normal” for the sake of everyone around him, including Alfred who is devastated but also trying to keep it together. Barbara, mourning an extra loss, is trying so hard to stay level headed and useful for Dick. Being both Oracle and Batgirl while also acting like a fun big sister to Tim who stands out as really young in this iteration.

Sure he’s a kid genius, but he’s also only 16 with a monumental caffeine addiction (you can’t tell me all the energy drinks on the shopping list pinned to the fridge aren’t for him) and mourning the loss of Bruce while also just wanting to do normal teenage shit, like asking the group for help with his art homework and being annoyed that his role as Robin is keeping him from spending time with his online boyfriend.

Jay is very raw and angry and obviously processing his own trauma on top of everything that just happened but even he steps up, trying to be there for Tim, teaming up with Babs to gently pick on Dick when he’s being particularly Boy Wonder-ish. Seeing him stress cook is also a nice added touch as are the photos of him and Bruce working on stuff. Bonding.

Which is another thing I Love. From what we see of him, Bruce is in his absolute DILF element in flashbacks and in recordings. All sad smiles and a gentle, head-shaking tolerance for the absolute ribbing the kids put him through for being too serious and neglecting himself. Not to mention all the pictures of him with Dick and Tim and Jason. And so many of him and Alfred and Ace. (The one on the fridge of him and Alfred showing them adopting Dick at the courthouse almost killed me. They all looked so young and happy.)

I’m getting serious “Bruce is a good dad with a warped sense of humor who hugs his kids and spends quality time with them, actually, and you’re wrong if you write him otherwise” fanon vibes, and that's honestly my favorite Bruce.

It’s basically appealing to everything I love about the franchise while scratching an itch in my brain the way crackfic taken seriously does.

And that’s enough to make me forgive the bad controls and glitches. But I could see it not being enough for some people, especially if you’ve already got poor hand eye coordination. Which I do. But again, I don’t really care about being good at games. I’m just dicking around and having fun wringing dopamine out of the narrative.

[howi99]

Just a side story for when Jaune found out who helped Cinder during the beacon day

Jaune: *repairing silently Penny's head* ... I know you are here Neo, and i know i can't do shit about you.

Neo: *hiding, looking at the ground in shame*

Jaune: Months, you could have warned me for months and you never did. *Shaky breath* I gave Roman my number as a sign of good faith, thinking you could both have asked me for help. *Getting angrier* I was ready to give up my dream if it meant helping you Neo. And what did you both give me? *Smashing his hand on the table, his aura flaring to protect his hand from shattering* You gave me a friend to mourn and a friend to fix. *Turning to see Neo, tears in his eyes* I thought i was your friend Neo, i really did. But you couldn't even tell me that fucking Cinder Fall, someone i talked to and trained with was in fact planning to destroy Vale.

Neo: *using her electrolarynx that he gave her* [But Jaune, we couldn't do a thing! She almost killed us the one time we tried to go against her order. We wanted to help you, but the only thing we could do was to stop her from hacking the Atlas fleet. That's all we could do!]

Jaune: BOTH OF YOU ARE THE REASON I SAW PYRRHA DIED! *Getting up and towering over Neo, who felt like a child at that moment* WHO BROUGHT THE WHITE FANG!? WHO BROUGHT NEGATIVITY TO VALE!? WHO, WITH A CHEEKY SMILE TOLD ME THAT EVERYTHING WAS UNDER CONTROL!?

Neo: *tears in her eyes* [I'm sorry...]

Jaune: *still fuming* Get out. I'm not going to tell anyone you were here. It's the least i could do as your "friend".

Neo: ... *Shatter in many pieces*

Jaune: *turning back to the worktable, continuing fixing Penny*

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

|•♡•♡{Welcome pick your man!}♡•♡•|

|•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡{Number 13}♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•|

Gossip

{♡} ask

- In a town w old people? yeah there's gossip

Cardboard cut out

{♡} personal

- omg a cut out of my bf

Incorrect Quotes:

eye's like sapphires

Werewolf Seth NSFW HC's

{♡} requested

- getting freaky w a werewolf

Seth NSFW HC's

{♡} requested

- getting freaky w normal Seth

dozed off

{♡} ask

- Boo just falling asleep while getting a tattoo and Seth is confused

amazing features

{♡} ask

- Seth would 100% make girl's jealous w his hair and amazing body...

ao3 account

{♡} ask

- So Seth has a ao3 account to read gravity falls fanfics.

Smashing skulls in - Yandere Casper

{♡} requested

- YIPEE Yandere Casper

Pinch of rat poison - Yandere Charlie

{♡} requested

- OMG is that Yandere Charlie?!

book of sleep talking

{♡} ask

- Charlie sleep talks ad Casper recorded all of it in their book

Incorrect Quotes:

pizza

Yandere Finn NSFW HC's

{♡} requested

- oh look more nsfw hc's-

Incorrect Quotes:

god's strongest soldier is not me

the things I do for love

California Faust

{♡} personal

- he got that bitchy valley girl energy (from someone form Cali)

outfit idea

{♡} personal

- Him in this would eat so bad BROOOO

Football

{♡} personal

- he loves his football team

Incorrect Quotes:

teehee sexy cowboy

Money spent well?

Faust's in here

Self aware

Dad Auron HC's

{♡} requested

- im about to make thius man a father trust-

Bend over - Smut

{♡} requested

- Doesn't he look pretty bent over?

Rook being an ex figure skater

{♡} ask

- Lol yuuri on ice am I right? (still mourning the anime ngl)

cozy games

{♡} ask

- Him playing cozy games is so silly to me

Don't try messing with me

{♡} personal

- do you really think you can check Rook? Please now Auron deal w this shit-

Incorrect Quotes:

I have a permit

aggressively caring

Am I an Angel?

{♡} requested

- So we get Yandere Angel finally :D

Slobbery love

{♡} personal

- Lucien loves tormenting his lover with licking them

Incorrect Quotes:

Method to this madness

They will be mine *lick*

First killing - Yandere Buddy

{♡} personal

- Buddy kills someone and they unlock some shit

Staying in

{♡} personal

- fluff for Jack who didn't want to go to a party

fuck his ex friend

{♡} personal

- MAN FUCK THAT EX FRIEND IDGAS

Incorrect Quotes:

what's going on in my head?

modern day Romeo and Juliet

match my freak

open sesame!

Protective or obsessive?

{♡} requested

- Yandere bittersweet bc we love them

Fucked Life

{♡} requested

- Boo had a fucked life

Favorite sex positions - all boy's

{♡} requested

- ooo more nsfw

Making battery acid - All boys

{♡} requested

- I was confused but I'm chill w it

Who the FUCK is that?? - All boys

{♡} requested

- YOOO WHO IS KNOCKIN ON MY WINDOOWW

Dozing off with the YV boy's!

{♡} requested

- hunk shook mimimimi

Anger issues

{♡} requested

- Sugarboo and Scout having anger issues how would their boys react?

Listener's as birds

{♡} ask

- this is actually pretty cool

Assassin family

{♡} ask

- ah yes, assassins bc I love listeners being op

Boo at the grocery store

{♡} ask

- NFL do this sometimes

how Boo started baking

{♡} ask

- baking as a outlet is such a good idea and you get food out of it!!

Boo's lockscreen

{♡} ask

- this is acttualy so fucking cute

Fucking to a song - Auron and Y!Finn

{♡} ask

- RULE 34 BY BIRDCAGE IS A MASTERPIECE

handling hot weather - Bittersweet

{♡} ask

- I HATE HOT WEATHER

Talking - Auron and Finn

{♡} ask

- So, Finn helps Auron and gossip while Sunflower and Rook gossip.

YV boys and the states

{♡} ask

- Wait Utah is real? /jk

Seamouse Charlie x Jack

{♡} ask

- Silly blonde and even sillier man

Our partner is a protective man - Middle Ground

{♡} personal

- Auron is NOT above killing someone, Darling is saying do it and Finn is trying to reel in his crazy partners (not really tho bc he hates all the people there)

Southern Stars - Seth x Faust

{♡} personal

- YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM

Telling the boy's your parent's/guardian want to meet them - all boy's

{♡} personal

- time to meet the parents! (lord help some of them)

Rating the YV boy's if they were real and meet my parent's

{♡} personal

- like half of them are okay the other half...might not do so good-

Hanahaki Disease AU

{♡} personal

- MORE ANGST HAHAHAHA

Mob Family Au - All boy's

{♡} personal

- ruh roh Auron fucked up and now everyone is trying to comfort Rook

Family things, you know how it is. - Mob Family Au

{♡} personal

- We love a crime family

Football

{♡} personal

- basically how football season is in my house

Accidentally hurting listener

{♡} personal

- ah yes, angst bc I love torturing the boys

Van Helsing AU

{♡} personal

- this movie messed w my brain chemicals so good

Twitter PT21

Incorrect Quotes:

Man in the woods

Wrong answer!

Pull up that shirt, whore!

death or a triple chocolate cake

miss my wife...

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