#I think because I just keep pushing so hard people think I have like infinite capacity

[payattentionbeastonished]

I think the hardest part about being in a crash and living by yourself is knowing that there is actually no one to look after you. No one will check in on you. It’s just you and your sad ill self stuck in bed against the world.

[ylangelegy]

blindsided ꩜ wonwoo x reader.

── .✦ 💌 includes: fem!reader, office worker!wonwoo, alternate universe: office, pining, in denial!wonwoo, lewd thoughts, alcohol, making out, hand job, loss of virginity, praise kink, aftercare.

── .✦ 📟 inspired by THE business proposal scene. we all know which one, but gif attached anyway ♡︎ wc: 2,700

── .✦ 🚏 MDNI. 18+ CONTENT.

(Or: The three times Wonwoo keeps his glasses on, and the one time he doesn't.)

Wonwoo knows he's done for the moment that you walk in for your first day.

Despite his bad eyesight, he's not blind. He can tell when somebody is hot, and you fit that bill. Sue him.

Still, he tries to rationalize. There's not a lot of good-looking people in the company's IT department. That's probably it, he thinks to himself, as you smile warmly and introduce yourself to everyone.

Wonwoo has just been deprived of good views. That's it. That's all.

As you go to do rounds, he tries to focus on troubleshooting the network issue that some higher-up has been complaining about. But then you get to him, expecting his name, and Wonwoo suddenly can't bring himself to care about the DNS check he's supposed to be running.

"Jeon Wonwoo," he says in a perfectly level voice. "Welcome to the company."

Your face lights up. "Oh! I think you're the one who's supposed to be training me on the new systems."

Right. His boss had mentioned this. Something about onboarding the newbies. And Wonwoo had said yes, because that was just the type of person he was.

Fan-fucking-tastic, Wonwoo thinks as he gives you a quick once-over.

He manages to look bored as he does it. Almost scrutinizing. Truthfully, Wonwoo is not-so discreetly checking you out. The crisp white blouse, the tight pencil skirt, the black stockings.

So help him, God.

"Hope you can keep up," Wonwoo says for the lack of better thing to say.

The easy smile on your face remains, like you're unperturbed by Wonwoo's infamously cool demeanor. Somehow, that makes things infinitely worse.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as you leave to meet other people. He tries very, very hard not to watch the way your hips move as you walk away.

You're good, he'll give you that.

Wonwoo, once again, tries to make excuses. One had to be good in this field of work, in this company. You're not an exception; you're supposed to be the norm.

Even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows it's not entirely true.

There's one too many nepotism babies and pushovers who barely survive performance evaluations. But you're good. Eager to learn. Sharp in all the right places.

Wonwoo is a little bit jealous.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, though, in between training you on the company's cloud service models and hammering out the new machine learning workflows.

And so he keeps his head down, and he points out the bugs in your codes, and he chalks up his initial attraction as a moment of weakness.

That is, until the two of you are last to leave the office on an unassuming Tuesday evening.

The two of you had gotten in to some long-winded debate about the future of AI. Wonwoo is only made acutely aware about how much time has passed when the janitor shuts off the lights, assuming everyone has gone home. You giggle; Wonwoo cracks the smallest of smiles.

As you both emerge from the company building, Wonwoo's glasses fog up.

It's a normal enough occurrence that he shouldn't be annoyed but it's also a little bit embarrassing. He's used to going home late, to being alone when he does this little ritual of his.

He's just about to take off his glasses when you do it for him.

There's nothing much he can do or say as you gently tug the glasses off his face, as you use a corner of your blouse to swipe off the condensation on the lenses. You're saying something— something about this being the most annoying thing about wearing glasses, about knowing the struggle— but Wonwoo can't hear it.

His gaze is fixed on your lithe fingers and the careful way they hold his specs. Something sparks in the back of his head. A thought, unbidden. How those fingers would look so much better wrapped around his—

Jesus. Wonwoo swallows hard as you hold out his glasses back to him.

The look on his face must be odd, because you're suddenly apologetic. "I must have overstepped," you say sheepishly.

Overstepped?

Wonwoo is pretty sure he's the one overstepping. He's the one imagining you bent over his desk, after all, where he'd be more than happy to keep two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Instead, Wonwoo mumbles "you're good" as he puts his glasses back on just a little too forcefully. The nose pad presses in to his skin and leaves the smallest of marks, but he figures he deserves it with how he's being.

Wonwoo decides that maybe he's just repressed.

He's always been too busy to sleep around, to sleep with anyone, so this is just some twisted form of karmic justice. To have someone so desirable within sight but not within reach.

He asks for Mingyu to start setting him up on dates. His best friend is a little too glad to comply.

Wonwoo goes on about four before giving up.

Because it doesn't matter if he ends the night with a heated kiss or a mouth around his cock. Every single time, with each girl, he can only picture his company's drab cubicles, fingers flying across a keyboard, clicks of heels on a floor. (You, you, you.)

Things only go from bad to worse when the company celebrates its annual Christmas party at some swanky speakeasy. The alcohol is free-flowing, and God knows that Wonwoo needs it— because you're certainly not doing him any favors.

Your dress is a touch too short, and your smile is pretty, and Wonwoo really needs to get his head out of the goddamn gutter. He cannot, should not be fantasizing about what it would be like to drag you in to the alleyway outside, to hitch up your leg around his waist, to finally feel his aching hardness slide in to your—

"Wonwoo?"

He starts. It's a good thing he downed his drink earlier. Otherwise, he might've spilled his cuba libre all over the front of your purple dress.

You're squinting at him, a playful sort of grin on your face. For a moment, he terrified you've read his mind, but then you're slurring out, "Your glass is empty."

"That it is," Wonwoo says dryly. He lets you lead him over to the bar.

As the two of you wait for his drink to be made, you pull the rug out from underneath Wonwoo once again.

It happens so fast. One moment, you're discussing go-to karaoke songs; the next, you're grabbing his spectacles and trying them on for yourself.

They're ill-fitting on you and the frames don't match your face shape. Wonwoo nearly winces when you awkwardly try to adjust them by the temples.

"Your eyesight is a lot worse than I thought," you whine— a whine, my God. Wonwoo wants to die then and there.

When his whiskey sour is served, Wonwoo shoots it back and promptly orders another one.

"How do I look?" you prompt, tilting your head to one side.

For a moment, Wonwoo contemplates telling the truth.

You look like sin, he could say. You look like you'd make the prettiest sounds if your back was up against the door of the bar bathroom, if his hands were feeling you up over your dress, if his mouth was leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Wonwoo shakes his head. He's definitely not drunk enough to be saying all that.

"Fine," he grumbles. "You look fine."

Once you've had your fun, once his glasses are back on his face and you're off to charm whoever the hell else, he'll wish he could have been a little more truthful.

Here's the thing: For all of Wonwoo's intelligence as the company's go-to IT guy, he's still pretty oblivious where it matters.

He doesn't realize that you don't really give two shits about AI, that you're only staying so late at work for him. He doesn't pick up that your party dress had been purple because he had offhandedly mentioned once that it was his favorite color.

All of those little things only hit him when he finds you standing outside his apartment, looking mildly miffed. "How much longer do I have to flirt with you, Jeon Wonwoo?" you demand.

Oh. Oh.

"Not another day more," Wonwoo promises as he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you in to his flat. He thanks all the higher powers in the universe that Mingyu has decided to buzz off for the night.

Wonwoo's mouth is on yours the moment the door shuts behind you. It's messy, all clashing teeth and warring tongues. The sudden force of it has you reeling back a step.

His fingers find purchase at your hips, right over the very skirt of his wildest fantasies. You tilt your head like you're trying to deepen the kiss— only to have your forehead bump against his glasses.

You make a sound of protest against his mouth and he swears he sees stars.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands just long enough to pull his glasses off. He casts them aside unceremoniously. He'll buy a new pair if he has to.

He's back to kissing you before you can even open your eyes.

By some miracle, the two of you make it to his bedroom.

It's only then that Wonwoo manages to tear himself away from your mouth, looking slightly panicked.

You're pinned underneath him, the top buttons of your blouse already undone. And you're a vision— your hair splayed out underneath you, your chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Wonwoo has to resist the physical urge to keep making out with you.

"I—" he chokes out. "I haven't—"

Thank God you're smarter than him, because you immediately get what he's trying to say. You prop yourself up by your elbows to look at him. "We don't have to," you say carefully, your fingers curling around his bicep.

"That's the thing." He doesn't even bother to hide how desperate he sounds. "I kind of really fucking want to."

The smile you give him then makes his heart stutter. He resolves to unpack that later.

Right now, he focuses on the way you pull off his slacks, the way you spit in to your palm, the way you dip your hand past his boxers and—

"Holy shit," he exhales, because this is definitely leagues better than his imagination.

You're watching his every reaction as you slide the curve of your palm against him, as your fingers close and squeeze and tug, and it takes absolutely everything in Wonwoo not to flip your positions.

He prays for patience; he prays for grace. He prays that he doesn't finish just from a goddamn handjob.

Once you've deemed him sufficiently hard, the two of you do switch positions. Wonwoo reaches in to his bedside drawer for the condom that's been sitting there for months. (Mingyu, the cheeky bastard, had left it there as a gift. Wonwoo has never been more grateful for his best friend.)

Wonwoo snaps it on with a lot less finesse than he would've wanted. Soon enough, he's hovering over you, his fingers curled in to a white-knuckled grip around his sheets.

"I should probably stretch you out a bit," he whispers, his voice strained with the effort it's taking to keep himself together

But you shake your head, your hands catching in his dark locks as you practically drag him down. "Wonwoo, I swear," you whine. "If you don't fuck me this instant—"

It's not the hands in his hair that does it. Not the bluntness of your words.

It's that stupid, stupid whine.

Wonwoo thrusts in to you without preamble, and the scream catches in your throat as he fills you up.

"Fucking take it, then," he hisses.

Wonwoo was a bit worried that his inexperience would get in the way, but there's one thing he seems to have in common with you: He can be a pretty quick learner, too.

His thrusts are a bit clumsy and erratic, but he figures out what you like based on the sounds that you make, the way that you move.

You arch your hips up whenever he bottoms out. You whimper whenever his balls slap in to the cleft of your ass. And when his fingers finally find your bundles of nerves, you say his name so beautifully.

"Just like that, Wonu," you gasp, rendered incapable of saying his full name. He likes the way it sounds, so he rewards you with another sharp thrust. You babble on, "Fuck, yeah. That's good. You're so fucking good."

Something inside him burns, then. Enough to have him picking up the pace, to have him pressing the calloused pads of his fingers in to every inch of bare skin that he can reach.

You seem to notice his renewed vigor, and the minx that you are— despite the fact you're being fucked stupid— you give him more.

You moan that he's perfect and doing so well and so fucking hot, and his cock only bullies in to you harder with every pretty word.

"I'm not going to last—" Wonwoo warns through gritted teeth, his grip bruising on your hip. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep talking to me like that."

His fingers are already fumbling; his pace, stuttering. He's not sure how much more praise he can take, but then you have to go and whimper about how badly you've wanted him, just like this—

Wonwoo manages to bottom out just one more time before coming undone.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, of him panting against the side of your neck, has you following not long after. It's absolutely torturous, the way you clamp down on him like you're squeezing him dry.

Wonwoo gathers his bearings enough to pull out. He heaves out a sigh and falls back on to his bed beside you, his own thighs still shaking a bit from all the effort he's exerted.

A beat. Neither of you speak; you're both too busy catching your breath, coming down from your respective highs.

But then you're sitting up, moving, and Wonwoo physically feels his heart drop.

"Where are you going?" he stammers. He can't even bring himself to sound cool about the prospect of this just being a one-time thing.

You put him out of his misery rather swiftly. At the foot of his bed, you pause, take one look at his face, and then soften significantly. Your gentle pat to his ankle is a welcome reprieve.

"We should clean up," you tell him, somehow managing to reassure his unspoken fears. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Ah— first door down the hall."

You don't pull on any of your clothes as you go, so Wonwoo doesn't bother to hide the way he watches you leave.

Once you're out his bedroom door, Wonwoo suddenly feels boneless. He sinks further in to his bed and contemplates how the hell he's going to go about this— whatever this is.

Wonwoo's overthinking is cut short when you bound back in to his room, your hands behind your back. He barely has any time to speak before your lips are on his.

It's a sweet kiss, one that catches him off-guard. He's frozen for only a millisecond before his eyes flutter close and he melts right in to you, his hand resting at the side of your face.

It's not quite the answer that he's looking for, but it's a close thing.

When you peel away, his head rises from his pillow, desperately chasing your mouth. You let out a tinkling sort of laugh before pulling your hands out from behind you— and placing his glasses on for him.

Wonwoo blinks confusedly underneath his lenses.

"Just need to make sure that you can see what you're getting in to," you tease as you push his hair out of his forehead.

He just looks at you for a second. And oh, is he done for.

"Yeah," he breathes. "I see you."

[evilminji]

Oh shit :D ?

I just remembered! (Thank you, historical fantasy section!) But like? Serving and protecting The King, especially a HIGH KING, is quite literally not just an incredible honor... but it can sometimes be a person's Life Ambition?

Specificly a WORTHY king.

Perhaps they were denied in life. Perhaps they FAILED. And in their dying moments struggle with all they were to LIVE. To PROTECT. Perhaps the PREVIOUS king was a great and worthy ruler... but their heir is...

Unworthy.

Maybe they are born to an age without Rulers. Power shifting between hands in hidden halls. Unclear and murky. All they want is for their loyalty to MEAN something. For things to be SIMPLE.

The universe is large. The Infinite Realms? Unimaginably larger.

And Pariah Dark was a BASTARD.

Who would willingly swear to him? Fools! That's who! Every warrior soul worth ANYTHING gets as far AWAY from his Realm forsaken resting place as they can. Hides. Lest they be dragged in to his infernal, gods forsaken, cess pit of a so called "army"! *disgusted spitting noises*

But what does this mean? It means every trained FIGHTER... got the hell out of dodge. Oh, sure, a FEW refused. Like Pandora and her people. But most? The farthest side of NOWHERE, several layers down! Some still GOING! Better to be decried as cowards then have ANYTHING to do with THAT(said with loathing)!

It also means they weren't where Pariah could get to them when he woke. Couldn't help. Couldn't fight. Couldn't be commanded to kneel. Nothing. They removed themselves completely. Planned on CONTINUING to remove themselves. Preferably to the farthest reaches of forever, far beyond the bastard's gaze.

But! The whole REALM INFINITE felt it? When that... that hissing, acidic, malicious undertone? SLAMS back and away, like somebody's knocked a parasite from their backs. Replaced by coolness and starlight. Delicate balance and blood on your teeth. The pounding in your chest of HOPE.

It flutters so small across their backs, inside their chests. Washing away the old.

The King... feels tiny. Young.

.......what are they doing? Running like this. Hiding away like that will change anything. How long... when did...

There are so many of them now. A veritable army of souls, of all Ages and People's. Every armor and crest imaginable. They'd been so.. so REPULSED by Pariah... nothing else had mattered but to get AWAY. Where even ARE they? What YEAR is it? Does any of that matter?

The King.

Their Obsessions whisper. Loyalty. Service. Protection. Honor. You have left you post! Abandoned your DUTY! What are you DOING!?

They are AGHAST. They turn around at once. The King! How could they have ABANDONED the King!? Who is guarding him if they are all HERE?!

Himself!?

(Yes. Danny is fine. He is eating the "Thank You for keeping us all from dying to whatever the FUCK that was!" tamales Paulina's mom pushed into his arms on his way back home. He didn't even try arguing. He made eye contact and knew he would lose.)

(Why does he feel like something really, really bothersome is headed his way?)

It's UNACCEPTABLE. Unthinkable! The King? Unguarded? Where assassination attempts and nefarious PLOTS could occur?! What if someone tried to steal his eggs!? Or attacked him while his exoskeleton was molting!? They aren't entirely sure which species he is yet, but there are SO MANY NEFARIOUS PLOTS OUT THERE!!

*panicked honor guards*

Just? Imagine becoming king. And thinking "well, aside from the skeleton army I have to figure out, at least I don't have to manage anybody!" Only to *WABAM!* your ENTIRE GHOST COURT shows up like a week later. Turns out they were hiding from your predecessor.

You have a whole ass honor gaurd. Who REFUSE TO LEAVE YOUR SIDE. You have Chefs. Who WILL cry if you send them away. The Literal Best In The Multiverse are all following you around... YOU, a RANDOM TEENAGE, with Excited Shoujo Sparkles in their eyes... because you punched a jackass really, REALLY hard.

There is no way to make this stop. Your friends are laughing at you. The interior decorator wants you to look at swatches. What are swatches and why are you being harrased by them at 1am, you wonder? If you are Mean(tm) they throw themselves upon the floor and blame themselves for their Wicked, Evil, King-Upseting Ways and you can't even TELL if your being played here.

It's like being bullied by house elves. Or Miette.

Your parents are too excited by all the New Research (at least the reveal went well?) To SAVE THEIR SON, and your sister is HELPING THE ENEMY (Traitor!), so now you're being bullied into eating vegetables and studying more.

Then? THEN!! WHO SHOWS UP?! Like... five WEEKS late?! The Justice League. Gee! GREAT RESPONSE TIME, GUYS! Reeeal snappy! But ya, JUST missed the guy!

.......YES HES BEING SARCASTIC!!!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[violetsquare111]

perhaps overly rambly thoughts on the influencer arc

it is very hard to watch but i don't think it's contrary to what we know of green, and i'm enjoying it just fine.

we know green is a showoff and perfectionist. the color gang all like winning, but green likes making a big display of it too. he's quite a sore winner and loser, and hates having the spotlight taken from him when it is his.

he loves attention and praise. and like, that's okay, don't we all? he cares about his friends in the end.

but i get the feeling that, while they love him and appreciate his talents, his friends don't really give him that big attention that he might want. they're used to him winning and being good at art/performance of any kind. it's normal to them really. maybe even a little disheartening.

so i can easily see how getting that attention in the form of being an influencer is a huge thing for green. an addiction, even. he gets so drawn into it that he overlooks his friends' discomfort, so he can keep being the Perfect Celebrity, keep the hype going.

obviously this end outcome here isn't actually what he wanted, and i'm sure he feels guilt for all this on some level. but he's pushed that away in favor of the high of getting a number to go up, getting more of the spotlight. there's nothing else that matters right now but getting that new dopamine hit. again, it is an addiction.

surely his friends will come around. why don't they get it? this is a good thing for him. he's winning. he's harsh, yes, but he's just trying to be successful. his friends aren't actually hurt (they are), they're doing fine (they're not), what's the issue? (everything.)

i don't think current green is character assassination - right now he's doing horribly and hurting the people around him because he is at his lowest, the worst version of himself where his flaws overtake him. it can go up from here. i have no doubt that by the end of this green is going to get some sense shaken into him and make up with his friends. like, that's just the kind of series this is.

and despite all the character analysis i just did lol - i ALSO think it's important to remember that we are probably taking every little action of these characters infinitely more seriously than the creators are. while the series sometimes dips its toes (or entire face) into being a dramatic and beautiful story, it is ultimately a cartoon, and sometimes the character writing will be put on the back burner for a moment in favor of a gag or an overall episode arc. and that's fine! nothing they're doing is unprecedented for the characters they've set up, and i think they'll wrap this up alright.

[suhnshinehaos]

growing pains : act three, part fifteen (2/2)

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor act three, part fifteen (2/2) wc : 1k

act three : the unexpected love  ➤  part 15 : infinite mornings

after years studying and working abroad, yn is finally back home to a new job and new faces. all they want now is to focus on nothing else but their career and one of their coworker’s friends, minghao, makes it all the more interesting. 

previous  ➤  act three, part fifteen (1/2) next  ➤  act three, part sixteen growing pains ➤  masterlist 

you have to stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair. it falls just past his brows, and the salty sea breeze covers your arms in goosebumps.

or perhaps it’s just because you could feel his knuckles brushing against your skin.

minghao has to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing your hand. he knows it would feel warm against his, a welcome reprieve from the cold morning air. 

but he settles on keeping his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.

there’s a silence that envelops the two of you, and he’s waiting for you to say whatever it was you wanted to say. there’s a million thoughts that’s racing through his mind. while he cherishes each moment he spent with you, he can’t help but wonder what made you want to move this little bit trip up so fast. and on such short notice too.

you notice the small furrow between his brows. “what are you thinking about?”

“whatever it is you’re thinking about.” 

his voice is calm, collected, and for some reason it sets a fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach. it felt silly, really, having a little crush. if you could even call it that. you’re no longer a teenager, noticing that your closest childhood friend has been growing cuter and cuter over the years. you’re no longer a college student or in your early twenties holding on to a relationship that isn’t officially one.  

this was an entirely different thing. you’re both well into your twenties. he’s a respected figure in your industry, and you’d like to think that you were on your way to becoming one too. if this new opportunity goes the way you hope it does.     

the two of you sit on a couple of rocks by the shore, knees and shoulders brushing. it’s quite uncomfortable, but neither of you shift in position. 

“minghao, can i be honest?”

“with me? always, yn.” he looks at you, and he doesn’t ask what made you wonder that, he just waits for you to continue.

“i’m terrified, hao.” 

minghao pushes past his initial apprehension and reaches out to place his hand on top of yours, urging you to tell him more. if you were going to be brave enough to tell him what’s bothering you, he was going to be brave enough to let you know that he stands by you through it. even in the simplest gesture that he could think of.

you take a deep breath and let it all out. jihoon going on tour, and the multiple photoshoots that seungcheol has booked for you along the way — with publications and people that you thought you would only dream of ever working with. 

“and i wonder-” you pause, and minghao squeezes your hand. “what if i’m not cut out for this? seungcheol and ji are placing so much trust in me and i don’t know if i can live up to that! i’m not you-”

“you’re going to do great.” 

minghao cuts you off, and the certainty in his words takes you aback. you blink and let out a breath. “how do you know?”

“you’re not me.” 

minghao lets go of your hand and you try not to feel disappointed at the loss of contact. you still do, but the disappointment disappears when he places his hands on your shoulders to look you in the eyes. your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“you’re you, yn. you’re creative in ways that i’m not, free and dynamic and you’re going to do wonderful because you are. you’re not me, and i’m not you. just because your strengths are different from mine doesn’t mean you’re less than me.” 

you manage a smile, and he offers you a smile back.

“you might actually just be better than me.”

you roll your eyes and shrug his hands off your shoulders, still trying to quell the beating of your heart. “well now you’re pushing it.”

minghao chuckles, low and soft. “i’m more worried about who i’m going to be making tea for.”

“i’m sure you’ll live.” you shake your head, the weight in your chest slowly starting to disappear. the worry is still there, but minghao’s words offer you a sense of comfort.  

minghao holds a hand over his heart, pretending like he had just been shot. he smiles wider when you laugh. “you underestimate my need to make you tea in the morning.”

“well, infinite mornings.” 

you echo what he had once said to you and minghao hopes you don’t notice the heat rising to his cheeks. he holds on to the bravery and confidence he had earlier, “that only works if you come back to me.”

“will you be waiting?” you laugh, tilting your head up to the pale blue sky and hoping he doesn’t notice the slight shake in your voice. if he doesn’t answer, you could chalk it up to just a joke. but still you hold your breath.

he nudges your shoulder with his, making you look back at him. “with tea and a smile.” 

the air stills and you let out an exhale. you’re not too sure what to say, before you could even think of the right words, minghao’s voice once again falls on your ears. 

“do your best, like i know you will. just shine.” 

you think of all the words of wisdom and comfort he’s said to you, the advice he’s given, the several impromptu photoshoots with him, “i will, for you.”

“not for me.” minghao shakes his head. “for you.”

you nod, and you take out your phone to confirm to seungcheol that you’ll be going. minghao listens to your call with a proud smile, a slight sting in his heart knowing how much he’d miss you. 

then again, infinite mornings. 

he just hopes you hold up to your end of the bargain, because he definitely will.

from reese, with love

there aren't enough words to describe how much i missed ynhao, writing in general, and being on here. thank you so much for reading this, i can't make any promises right now but i missed this. i'd really love to know what you think, hope you're doing well and taking care!

[brainman1987]

I am going NUTS over your "booted to the Infinite Realms" ghost prince Danny AU like

Does he have his memories, or no? You're art gives off the idea that he lost them in the ejection

How do Sam and Tucker react? How would, hypothetically, the Fentons react?

Would he ever be able to speak again, since his human vocal chords went unused for so long?

Also I LOVE his long hair, and in that first group of sketches where human Danny shows up, he kinda looks like he has dreadlocks!

Im so glad you like it!! Its also been on my mind a lot recently, its just such a fun idea :)

After so much time spent in the ghost zone, he‘s pretty much forgotten everything. Anything he does know about the human realms is hearsay from a very VERY long line of telephone. While he doesn’t loose them in the ejection a combination of a concussion, his death freshly on his mind, and no access to any human realms means that he looses his memories fairly quickly and learns to adjust to life as a ghost even quicker! Here’s a quick explanation of the stages he goes through:

To answer the question“how do people react“ it’s a bit complicated. Sam and Tucker went to therapy after witnessing their friends death up close and personal, so they do feel absolutely shitty about. Well you can guess. But it’s odd because Tucker wants to believe that Danny can (and will!) gain his human memories back in they simply keep doing things with him that they used to do together. Sam doesn’t believe this, and instead feels incredibly guilty. She doesn’t stop Tucker from trying though and tbh both of them spiral a little bit. Depending on how much/what the story the two give the Fenton reactions vary wildly! Either way Jazz very much does go into psychology, specifically children’s psychology because of some messed up belief that if she had only talked to him more about stuff like peer pressure and that jazz she would‘ve been able to „save him.“ If Sam and Tucker tell the authorities that Danny died due to the actual PORTAL TO THE REALMS BETWEEN REALMS that they built (likely unlawfully) in their basement hen they would be detained for child neglect and also. Doing that. If not the two would feel horrible feeling as though they pushed Danny too hard and sort of forced him to do something suicidal like that. Honestly it’s just bad vibes throughout aksjdasjd

In my head, no! Not really I don’t think he’d be able to speak again. I’m not even sure his human body could handle stuff like food or anything because of how neglected it is. I’m sure there are ways he could get around this (mostly sing language and stuff) but I’m not sure I could imagine him having his human voice again. Many ghosts don’t even have organs! He a special little exception :)

Also I didn’t mean to portray his hair like that but it’s interesting that I does look like that’s kajscjadj

[straykids-97]

Vexation

‘There’s nothing so infinite vexation as  man’s own thoughts.’ 

Chan doesn’t like when someone touches what his…

Warnings: Dom! Chan, sub!Reader, (Chan’s a meanie), jealousy, angry sex, spanking, teasing, masturbation(f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), soft Chan at the end (aftercare ♥️), dirty talk, dacryphilia, corporation kink, (if you squint), lmk if I forgot anything :)

Word Count: 3.2k

You danced your heart out on the dance floor, your friend Felix laughing happily as you twirled with him. “I told you, you could dance!” He cheered, smiling so hard that his sweet brown eyes disappeared. “Only because we did shots!” You counter, a smile appearing on your face as well. Felix wrapped his arms around your body from behind, his deep laughing rattling your eardrum. 

A few feet away, your boyfriend, Chan watched as his best friend squeezed his girlfriend. A twinge of jealousy pinched his heart, but he knew it was harmless. But his heart couldn’t be convinced. He knocked back the dark liquor in his grasp, and a warm hand on his shoulder made him turn to see the culprit; Lee Minho. Chan took a deep breath, “Bored already?” Lee Know hummed, leaning against the table, his eyes finding you and Felix just as Han joined the two of you on the dance floor. “I wouldn’t say bored…” he trailed off, a smirk on his lips as he slid into the chair next to Chan. “What about you? Bones ache? Can’t dance with y/n?” Chan scoffed, but it wasn’t humorous. He sounded annoyed. As usual, Minho caught on quickly, “Oh?” Chan didn’t reply, and his eyes never left the three people dancing, and he paid especially close attention to the hands and hips of his friends. 

“What do they have that you don’t? You’re a man, Chris.” Minho hardly ever said Chan’s real name. But the use of it, made him turn to look at Minho. He was planning something, and Chan wasn’t sure if he would like it or not. “They are boys compared to you…” He leisurely stood up, stretching like a cat. “However…” Minho trailed off, climbing down the few stairs to the dance floor, Minho’s eyes never leaving Chan’s. “Minho..” Chan warned, his voice so low that only Minho could hear. Minho only smiled; a face-splitting, Cheshire cat-like grin. “You son-of-a-” 

You sway your hips to the beat of the song, “What are you drinking, Han?” You shout over the bass. “Huh?” Han asks as he downs the rest of it. “Nothing now!” He laughs, making you roll your eyes and slap his shoulder. “I wanted some!” Han turned to see someone new approaching, making you twist to see Minho a few feet away. “Hello, y/n.” He purred, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your stomach flutters, “Mi-minho!” You blush, the amount of alcohol in your system made the simple gesture fluster you. He hums, “There’s a 5 foot 8 Australian hunk who may or may not have consumed a little too much alcohol. And,” he gets incredibly close to your ear, “may need a little push in the right direction for you to have a good night.” He pulls away and winks at you. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.” He cations as you try to look around him to see your boyfriend, but his words make you stop. 

“I’m doing you a favor, pretty.” he winked at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You feel a shudder run down your spine, making you gasp softly. Minho chuckles, leaning into your face to speak again, “I think you and I both know, how you’re night will end if you play along.” You open your mouth to speak but you feel a rough hand on your forearm. “We’re leaving.” Chan’s voice growled, making you squeak. Minho lets you go, “Awe, ruin the fun!” Felix whines, but the glare that Chan shoots Felix makes him shrink behind Han, who also tries to hide. 

Chan doesn’t care that you can’t keep up with his longer strides, stumbling, trying to keep up with him. “Ch-chan! Slow down!” You stutter as he pulls you outside of the club. You can hear the sound of the song, House of Cards playing over the speakers. He doesn’t speak as he opens the back door of the vehicle you had been driven to the club in. He doesn’t shove you into the car, but he’s not exactly gentle about it either when he nudged you inside the vehicle. 

You settled beside him, completely baffled by how he was acting suddenly; Chan had never acted this way.

Ever. 

You begin to nervously fidget, Minho’s words bouncing around your temporal lobe. “I’m doing you a favor.” You clear your throat, “Chan?” You whisper in a quiet voice, hoping that he can hear you. When he doesn’t reply, you sneak a peek in his direction. Chan was glowering out the window, his left first balled tightly by his knee, his right hand tucked under his chin to hold his head up. He’s angry, it was rolling off of him in red, hot waves. You wait a few moments and try again, this time, a little louder than before. “Channie?”

No reply. 

You sigh in defeat, figuring that something happened and he didn’t want to talk about it right now. Copying the motions of your partner, you decide to look out the window of the Seoul nightlife that passed as you drove home. 

The ride home was silent; painfully quiet. You hated when Chan was in a silent brood. All you wanted was for him to be happy; to see him smile for the rest of your life. But you knew that wasn’t possible, not with his line of work. He was stressed more often than not, and he hardly slept; or ate. 

The driver pulls up to your apartment and you unbuckle as Chan thanks the driver and tells him that he won’t be coming back out to the car. Your blood runs cold; Chan never stayed the night. He always insisted that he couldn’t because of work. 

You walk up the stairs toward your apartment, digging out your keys from your small clutch bag. Trying to ignore the fact that Chan seemed to have ulterior motives for the rest of the evening. You couldn’t hide that you were nervously shaking. 

Chan hadn’t been intimate with you for some time. The comeback seemed to be weighing heavier on him than normal. He was always at the studio, working diligently alongside his bandmates. You didn’t feel neglected, you just knew that was the downside of being with a “rolling stone”. 

The mere thought of what was to come had your heart racing. So much so, that you didn’t notice Chan was directly behind you, waiting for you to manage the lock on your door. After a few moments of struggle, you get the door open. You sigh and turn to see him watching you very carefully. You cleared your throat, “After you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like a question. 

He gestures to you, “I insist.” Always a gentleman, you think to yourself as you enter your home, reaching down to pull your heels off as Chan makes sure to close and lock your door. Neither of you bother with the entryway lighting, you would only be there for a moment anyway. 

Chan follows behind you as you enter your living room, sliding the bag over your head. “So…” You trail off, unsure of how to start the conversation. You turn to see him the same distance away that he was when you unlocked the front door. To most people, it would have seemed creepy, but because he danced for a living, you chalked it up as what he called, “kinesphere”. Unless he wanted to be directly next to you, there was always an invisible bubble between himself and anyone around him. Just like how there was currently between the two of you. 

“Did you have a good night? With Changbin? I saw that Minho joined later, as did Han.” You wave your hand as you talk, sauntering into your kitchen to get a drink of water to rid yourself of the cottonmouth caused by drinking before you get ready for bed. Chan says nothing as you try to create conversation. You turn to look at him again, seeing that he still never popped that bubble of space between the two of you. 

You let out a huff of frustration as you move around him to go into the bathroom, turning the shower on and allowing it to warm up before going to your room and grabbing pajamas to wear after your shower. Chan is nowhere to be seen, and that makes you uneasy, so you peek your head into the hallway; not there either. Your heart leaps out of your chest as you slowly make your way back to the bathroom. Poking your head even slower than you had walked around the door jam, you find Chan leaning against the vanity, his dark eyes staring at you. You yelp, jumping with surprise, “My goodness! What are you acting like this!” You cry, holding your chest and stomping into the bathroom. 

Tossing your new clothes into the sink, you begin to undress, “You've been ignoring me all night,” you rant, struggling with your zipper for a moment before you finally got it, “and you drag me away from the people who were giving me attention- not even in a bad way!” You toss your hands in the hair, growing more frustrated as you continue, “And now you won’t even speak to me!” You spin around to stare at him, “What is it that I have done to be treated like that?” Even though you had gone off on a tangent, you got no reply. 

Take a deep breath and sigh, “Fine. Whatever. Give me the silent treatment.” You snap bitterly. “You know where the door is. I’m not spending the night with someone who refuses to speak to me, let alone touch me.” 

You yank open the glass door of the shower cabin and slam it closed. You cringe slightly but ignore it for the most part. You twist your hair up into a sloppy bun and step into the warm water, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stand there. You knew you shouldn’t have said the last bit; you were angry. You were thankful for the opaque glass that now separated you and your boyfriend; you weren't sure how he would react to your words. And you didn’t want to see the aftermath of them at the moment. 

But it wasn’t entirely a lie. The last few weeks you were hung out to dry, and you were just ending your ovulation cycle, to make matters worse. To say the least, you were sexually frustrated. You and Chan could hardly keep your hands off each other in public, and the lack thereof made you feel frustrated in the worst ways. No one could make you feel like Chan could, not even yourself. Orgasms didn’t feel the same without him. 

After a few moments, you felt a cool breeze on your naked back, making you turn to see Chan joining you inside the shower. You turn back around, continuing your angry facade. Though guilt was wringing your gut, you tried to hold your ground. You wanted to make it very apparent that you weren’t happy with your current situation. This time, it would be you who gave him the silent treatment. 

Nothing happened; much to your surprise. But, after a brief pause, he stepped toward you, pressing his chest flush against your back. You could feel his erection on the small of your back, and you nearly gasped. But, you didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of a response. Chan's hands wandered down your sides, ghosting over the plane of your tummy, squeezing your skin as he traveled to your hips, tugging you harshly into him. You stumbled, catching yourself in the sides of the shower, “You have a smart mouth.” He growled, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Sometimes, I wish you would just shut the fuck up.” He grabbed your throat and squeezed, making a strangled yelp escape. 

You hold his wrist as he presses you against the wall, grunting impassionedly as he uses his foot to spread your legs apart slightly. You press an open palm to the wall as he lets go of your throat; making you gasp for air as he shifts his attention to your hips. He pulls them out, pushing your waist down so your ass was in the air for him. Using one hand to keep you pinned, he uses his other to snake around to play with your clit. You jolt, heat pouring down your body and filling your most sensitive area as he assaults your aching nub. He chuckled darkly, “Awh, couldn’t get you to shut up earlier and now you can’t even form words?” He cooes rudely in your hair as he slaps your cunt. You cry out as he shifts away, sucking on his first two fingers, “fine by me. As long as you’re screaming, I know I’m doing a good job.” 

He shoves his digits into your dripping core, your toes curling as he immediately finds that ooey gooey spot inside your p*ssy. He groans and chuckles as you shake, your orgasm fast approaching now that he’s found your g-spot; not that it took much searching. He knew your body inside and out. 

“I’ll show you how it feels to be teased; made jealous. I’ll make you beg before you cum.” He suddenly pulls out, making you whine in displeasure. He waits a few moments for your high to subside before pumping his cock in his hand a few times, “Gonna make you fucking cry before you get to cum.” He hisses as he presses your head against the wall, biting your earlobe as he slammed his hips into hours, knocking the wind out of you in the process. 

Chan was relentless; unforgiving in his endeavor to make you cry. And cry you did. You sobbed against the floor of your shower as he pounded into your aching cunt, tears pouring down your cheeks as he gripped your hips so hard that marks were appearing. He spanks your cherry-red ass cheek twice, making you cry louder. “This what you wanted, slut?” He growled, pistoning his hips in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. “Wanted to cry for my cock, huh?” He laughed maniacally as he seemed to go even faster as you squeezed him, signaling that you were close. And just as every time before, he pulls out, smacking your ass telling you repeatedly that, ‘whores don’t get to come’. 

You could easily say your safe word, “pineapple”, at any given moment and give up; Chan would immediately stop everything to make sure that you were okay. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had broken you. 

You mewl on the floor, reaching up to rub your swollen nub pathetically as he repositioned himself in you, taking a deeper approach. This would be the death of you. Chan knew this position was your weakness and had you cumming repeatedly on any given night. This would break you if he denied you anymore. 

Chan had cum inside you multiple times, man had the stamina of a stud horse. He loved to watch his cum form an off-white ring around his cock; it was his filthy pleasure that he secretly loved the most about fucking you repeatedly on nights like this. 

You shudder when he slowly pushes into you, and he lets out a low moan, hands running up your back to your shoulders, “Mmmm,” he hums, rolling his hips hard against yours. He no longer cared for pace, it was all about how hard he could fuck you into your shower floor now. “Wanna cum, babydoll?” You can’t form words, even if you wanted to. Chan had fucked you stupid. 

He knew this, and that’s why he chuckled, moaning with pleasure as he thrust deep and hard into you. He could feel your walls tighten around him and you whine, trying to wiggle your feet free to press him into you so he couldn’t escape. Another thing he secretly desired. But, his calves had your feet pinned down and there was no escaping him now; you barely had enough strength to hold yourself up. Let alone enough to wriggle free. 

He moaned as you squeezed him, and you let out a pathetic whine. You balled your fists up near your head, feeling angry that you knew what the outcome was. He was gonna pull out and leave you high and dry again. 

You let out an angry, helpless breath as you feel him pull away. But to your surprise, he doesn’t pull completely out. He just pauses, almost contemplating what he should do for a brief moment. 

Within seconds, his fucking you relentlessly, pounding into you with a new fervor. You scream out in ecstasy as your long-awaited orgasm washes over your body. Your body trembles, but Chan doesn’t stop. Instead, he wraps his arm around your waist; his expert fingers find your clit and rubbed it. “You’ll stop cumming when I do.” 

He hammered his hips in and out of you and at a God-like speed; your head spinning as you orgasm again. You see stars as he slaps your core, Chan doesn’t stop. He only pulls away to pin you down to the floor, hips harshly slapping against yours, the sounds of skin meeting skin echoing around your shower as he fucks you hard and fast. You scream as the most earth-shattering, toe-curling, heart-stopping orgasm hits you. You momentarily forget to breathe and nearly pass out. You begin to babble nonsense as Chan rams his hips into you, filling your cunt one last time before stopping. 

You stay connected, panting for a few moments until he pulls out and slumps beside you. You join him, and he gently pulls you into his chest. Neither of you says a word for a long while. The only thing keeping you company was the sound of the running shower. 

 Chan touches your cheek, “Baby?” He says softly. You hum, looking up at him as he peers down at you. “Are you alright?” You only hum in response, making him chuckle. “Did I break you?” You smile softly at his words and he laughs at your response. He pulls you into his chest, still rumbling with laughter, “Oh baby, I’m sorry.” You wanted to tell him not to be, but that was useless. You kinda liked how he fucked you just now. And hoped he would do it again. 

He takes the time to make sure you’re cleaned up and dressed before getting you water; but not before you are tucked into bed. You watch as he enters your room with two water bottles in hand, his bare chest on display as he climbs into your bed and settles beside you. Luckily your bed was big enough for the two of you. 

He puts a movie on and adjusts himself before pulling you into his warm chest. “Goodnight.” He hums, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Chan.” Your eyes are already heavy and sleep overtakes you quickly. Not that you needed much help from Chan's warm body to sleep, but your extracurricular activities were enough to exhaust you for the rest of the weekend.

Hope you enjoyed this! LMK if you want to be tagged in future parts of this series so you can know when it’s uploaded!

Tag list: @sp00ky-spr1te @very-gay-stay

©️straykids-97

[stellamancer]

heel (gojo x reader???)

notes: um. idk what i should say. though i am not hating on feet people!! i am feet people!! if you want a non foot version of this feel free to read my other fic empty threat: also post spar with gojo shenanigans (even reused a line to connect the two lmao). part of the infinite loop! fic verse.

ageless blogs and minors do not interact

contains: gn!reader (no gendered language is used) gojo, feet (or what i like to call the steppy)??, dubcon?? (just in case), sexual implications, the use of the words dick and cock, no this isn't smut

wc: 812

You wish you knew how you ended up in this situation.

It all started with you agreeing to spar with Gojo and thinking back now, that was your first mistake. Training with him has been odd lately, though you can’t quite put your finger on why, but one minute the two of you were engaged in hand to hand combat and now he’s laying on the floor with your foot pressed firmly against his crotch.

You don't even know how it got there in the first place.

“Well?” he drawls, that stupid amused tone of his grating on your nerves as he waits for your next move.

Idly, you think it’d be nice if you could end his family line here and now by stomping down hard enough but you know that that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

Should you just back off then? Fight’s over; you’ve won, but only because Gojo let you. Honestly speaking, that fact burns you, keeps your foot in place despite your attempts to rationalize it with the notion that a win’s a win. If he were a curse, you wouldn’t care about it being an easy win.

But he’s not; he’s Satoru Gojo and there’s something off about all this.

“Enjoying the view?” Gojo asks, yanking you from your thoughts. You stare down at him, scowling, but he remains unfazed as usual. “Not that I can blame you since—”

Your body reacts instantly in annoyance, your foot jerking down, digging into his dick and, for a split second, you think that it’s the surprise of it that causes him to cut off mid-sentence.

Except for the fact that he moans.

He fucking moans.

You’ve always thought, always known that Satoru Gojo is an absolute freak but you’d never really given much thought to it.

If you could, you’d keep it that way— the last thing you want is to be giving him more mental real estate than he deserves.

This is way too much for you right now.

“Ah, so you’re into that, are you?” Gojo’s voice sounds way too entertained, way too pleased for someone who just had someone grind their heel into his crotch. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

Instinct bids you to crush his cock beneath your foot because normally guys find that to be pretty painful, but you have to remind yourself that Gojo is far from normal. He might actually be into it. So instead, you try to pull your foot away, to get away from him as fast as possible, but try as you might, your foot doesn’t move, as if it’s being held in place by some invisible force.

You’re mildly horrified when you realize that it is and this, you think, has the be the most disturbing use of the Limitless technique in all of history. The realization causes your self-control to slip and your foot presses even harder against him.

Gojo moans again, louder this time and you can’t ignore the slight pressure of what you fear to be a growing boner pushing against the sole of your shoe.

Nor can you ignore the electric prickle running up and down the length of your spine. What the heck? When it starts to settle in the pit of your stomach you realize what it is.

You need to get away from Gojo.

Now.

You yank your foot away from him and luckily, luckily, he releases his technique and you’re free of him. Like a frightened creature, you back away and refuse to look Gojo in the eye.

“...get up,” you say after a second of absolute silence. You hear the ruffle of clothes as he rises to his feet and slowly, carefully, you peer at him from the corner of your eye. “Don’t do that again.”

Gojo’s expression is unreadable. Figures. But who knows, maybe, for once in his life, he’ll actually listen.

Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed the moment he opens his mouth. “Why? You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

You are horrified. What kind of face were you making? There’s no way. He has to be lying, saying what he wants for the sake of his own entertainment. You couldn't have been into it! You were mortified, horrified by all of it, but yet you still managed get tu—

Before that last thought can fully form itself in your mind you shake your head violently as if that will rid you of it.

Gojo laughs lighthearted and amused as always, “Okay, okay, if you say so.”

He doesn’t believe you, but he’s always been delusional. You glare at Gojo but he ignores it, and stretches.

“Let me know if you change your mind though,” he says casually. “I think it could be fun.”

“Yeah right,” you huff, ignoring how he laughs, ignoring how the tiniest voice in the back of your mind thinks that maybe, just maybe he’s got a point.

Satoru Gojo’s definitely a freak, but maybe you are too.

is gojo actually into getting his dick stepped on or was he just fucking around and you were just finding out? you decide.

[k-s-morgan]

Hey, I was re-reading ATLWETD when I noticed something so obvious in this paragraph that I stupidly didn't notice the first time.

"Riddle was taller than him, so now his lips were almost brushing against Harry’s forehead. 

“I don’t need to live in a Muggle world to own someone,” he murmured. Belatedly, Harry realised why he was standing so close — he didn’t want others to overhear his outrageous statements. “You should know this. After all, you know me better than anyone.”"

He wasn't gloating only about the death eaters, like Harry thought, he was mostly referring to the Horocrux situation and their own really unique relationship (also, the fact he almost kisses the scar as he speaks made me scream).

Will we see more moments like this in the next chapters?? (If you don't want to spoil us, just ignore this part.)

This all brings me to the actual question: Harry replies:"It’s because I know you that I’m not going to entertain your disturbing fantasies,” he said. Somehow, he managed to sound less harsh than he intended. “No matter what loyalty anyone promises you, it is not infinite. If you treat people who pledged themselves to you cruelly, they are not going to stay. I saw it happen. And by the rate you’re going, I think it might happen again.”

What the hell did Tom assume from this reply? And most importantly, what assumptions did he make about the connection between Harry and fake!Tom based on this answer?

Hoping the best for you and your loved ones in these hard times <333

Hi! Thank you <3 I'm glad that you saw the second meaning of Tom's words. It was related to how Tom envisions their relationship and to the Horcruxes both.

The more Tom imagines what life he and Harry might have had, the more feelings and desires are born in him. He's certain that Harry was his in every way and that he had absolute control over him because in his eyes, that's the only possibility for them to have a relationship. This is what he began to want now, so he's sure that any other version of him must have wanted the same. Harry cannot relate to it, ownership doesn't interest him, so he didn't fully comprehend what Tom meant.

I cannot say specifically what kind of moments of closeness and possessiveness we'll get because I never plan these things, they pop up by themselves as I write! But there will definitely be a lot of them))

As for your second question, Tom and Harry are having somewhat different conversations here. Harry is talking purely about Tom's followers, Tom is talking about them and about his bond with Harry at the same time. Harry's words made him think that he lost the devotion of some of his Death Eaters in that other reality, but most importantly, he contemplates the fact that his attitude cost him Harry. He doesn't know the specifics, but he thinks that his insanity pushed Harry away and resulted in him being snatched into some other world. Harry doesn't seem to be actively trying to go back to it, which Tom considers as another proof of their broken bond. In his mind, with their connection, Harry would have to be obsessed with reuniting with 'his' Tom. Since he isn't, it means that the other Tom failed him so much that Harry is now more interested in building something new with his other version.

Tom is confident that he'll be a better partner. At the same time, while he places Harry above everyone else, he doesn't see him as his equal, and he cannot imagine a relationship without any violence and control in it. He thinks Harry mostly accepts it, only that 'his' Tom overdid it because of the Horcruxes. So after Harry's reply, Tom's trying to assure him him that some violence is an inherent part of a relationship, and that he's in his right mind, so he'll know how to keep a balance between violence and fondness - basically, that he'll succeed in being a leader that Harry (and the others) would be glad to respect and follow both in 'professional' and personal capacities.

This probably sounds a little messy, but Tom's mind is still reeling from all the (fake) revelations, so he cannot always settle on a specific picture) It keeps changing.

[starshower1215]

Thoughts on Hange's Loss of Passion [Pt. 2: Reignition?]

If they had lived, would Hange have regained their love for the world? To be honest, they seem very depressed after season 3, which tends to cause a lack of interest in things a person once took pleasure in. Pairing this with the Pt. 1 and with the fact that a truce of circumstances was extended to Paradis instead of willing empathy, then it isn't looking good. They may be heroes, but this was, once again, a sacrifice given to someone who has yet to give back.

I would assume that there is some underlying resentment or discomfort from Eldians towards Marleyans, even with their perspective known, but they weren't in such a position to convey it. Think of Levi giving candy away in the last scene. We could interpret this a bit differently— it could be strategic, almost as a way to enforce the unstable positive impression that the world has of Eldians. Even being heroes, any negativity towards others in that time would have brought Eldians back to square one. On top of this, it is definite that not everyone will suddenly love Eldians. The racism will still be very, very apparent, so impressions must be constantly reinforced for long term solidity.

Hange would go on living under this pressure to walk on eggshells, which in itself is not a good atmosphere. It would only enforce their impression of "What is the point of this?" If we consider the forest scene with Levi, then we remember that Hange can't stay out of action for long. But why do they go into action? Because of their blind faith. A core piece of their being.

So what if the world crushed that already-fragile faith? There is no point, no action, and no more passion. Perhaps this is why Hange is so different in season 4: the discovery of the truth shook them to the core.

They would probably try still, but I can see it happening halfheartedly, like they know that it won't work out. They're finding the medium between trying (and getting their hopes crushed again) and not trying (unacceptable). It's hard, because for all their life, all they've needed was to make themself endure every loss and make themself try. Now, their effort is invested into making other people try, which is infinitely more difficult.

I just imagine them pushing Levi in his wheelchair somedays with Armin visiting at their side, and Levi is so sad that Hange's lost their passion that he and Armin keep picking up random inventions they've never seen before, getting Armin to talk it up and trying to get those stars back in Hange's eyes. But they're just smiling and nodding, and inside, they're still just... so, so very exhausted.

[sanguineterrain]

about strawberry jam - e.m.

Summary: Eddie knows what kind of jam you like.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: discussion of food and a sort of unhealthy relationship with food, but no mentions of eating disorders! reader just isn't fond of eating with people. reader is anxious about relationships and has commitment issues but they are trying their very best, like i know all of you are <3

Notes: first of all, i want to say how blown away i am by the response that about a boy got! thank you so so much! i have some ideas for future snapshots so please enjoy this one here, which takes place about a month after about a boy (though you do not need to read that to understand this one). that being said, this fic is loosely connected to the series.

divider by firefly-graphics

"Pasta sound okay?" 

You doze on Eddie's bed. It's weird, being in his space, but you're practicing. You have to remember that he wants you here, and if he doesn’t, he'd tell you. You're not an intrusion or a wrong piece of furniture. You belong here. Eddie had told you so. 

"Pasta is good. Mac and cheese?" you ask. 

Eddie's head pops up from his pillow. Affection overwhelms you. You need to be close to him, suddenly. You scoot closer so your knuckles brush his. Eddie links your pinkies and kisses your hand. 

"Sounds great. I can go—"

"I'll start it," you say. 

Your brain itches with the thought that you take too much when you're with Eddie. If you want to earn your keep, you need to do more than laze about in his room. 

Eddie's expression suddenly turns serious. With his other hand, he gently pushes his thumb into the center of your brows. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You're thinking too hard again," he says. "Had to smooth it out."

Eddie molds your worry into something pretty, like you are dry clay and his hands are damp with love. You wonder if this is what creation feels like. 

"I'll start it," you say, trying again. "And… and you can help in a bit?"

Your forehead stays smooth. Eddie's eyes crinkle at the corners from his smile.

"Sounds like a plan, sweet thing. You know where everything is?"

"Yes. But, um… your uncle isn't home, is he?" 

You feel terrible asking. You do. It's not that you have an issue with Wayne Munson. You're sure he's a great guy, with how Eddie gushes about him. You know that, at the very least, his love for his nephew is cavernous and infinite. 

"He's not," Eddie confirms. "But y'know he wouldn't chase you out with a broom if he was, right?"

"I know. It's just… we're new and I don't want to rush things."

You're a new fixture in Eddie's life and a part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. A part of you thinks this is too good to be true; your clay will dry out beyond fixing and Eddie won't want anything more from you. 

"Hey." Eddie doesn't kiss you, just brushes his lips onto your cheek to get your attention. You look at him. 

Eddie licks his lips and chews on chapped skin, studying you for a minute. 

"Do you like this?" he asks finally. "Do you like how things are going?" 

"Yes," you say.

It's only been a month but it's been one of the greatest months of your life. And if this is the time you have with Eddie Munson before you overstay your welcome, it will have been worth it. If only to have found a home in a person. 

"I do too," Eddie says. "I really, really like you. And I want us to stay like this."

"Now."

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

"You want to stay like this now. But in a month, you might get tired. Or you might want to leave and I'll hold you back."

Eddie's eyes turn soft and sad. Sometimes you do that, with your stupid, clumsy words. Eddie never turns sad around anybody else. It's only you that pulls it out of him. 

"I wish you wouldn't think of me that way," he says. 

"I'm sorry."

You're afraid, and it makes you selfish. You should think of others, but you don't, because that's when you get hurt. And you don't think you can take it if Eddie hurts you because you think of him. 

Eddie brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it. Your lips draw down. 

"I'm sorry," you say again. "I'm scared."

"Of me?"

"Of what you've become to me."

"I would never do that to you," Eddie murmurs. "Leave you. Hurt you. Never."

You release a slow breath. "Okay."

"It's okay if you don't believe me right now," he says. "But I wanted to tell you. So it's somewhere in there." 

He kisses your forehead. You want to try once more. 

"We can start the pasta together," you offer. 

Eddie's smile doesn't scrunch his face up this time. But it's fond. It's good. 

You get up with him. 

You're not fond of people watching you eat. 

Eating with people feels like a sin. You enter their space and you're caught. They can watch you hork down whatever glutton you feed yourself that day, and you can't do anything about it. 

Or it's a bribe. Come to lunch with me, and food suddenly becomes a leash. A chain with expectation collared to your throat. You reach for your fork and you are an animal with your claws in a raw steak, blood dripping down your chin. You howl and your companion sneers at how you can't even control your hunger under their gaze. 

Eddie asks you to come over a lot more now, and, being that you have a real heart and a real stomach, the time does come when you eat together.

"I think we have Velveeta in the bottom cabinet," Eddie says, digging through a top shelf for a box of macaroni. 

He turns on the stove. You hear him open the fridge and dig through there. 

The unopened package of Velveeta is exactly where Eddie said. You take it out and pause. 

A jar of strawberry jam sits at the front. You take it out and stare at the label. 

"Find it?" Eddie asks. 

"Yeah… Eds, can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away, pretty."

"What does your uncle eat for breakfast?"

"Hmm. Eggs, bacon, y'know. He grew up down south, though, so he really loves grits." 

"Oh. So not a jam on toast type?" 

"Nah, he's not much for sweets. Why?" 

"Grape jelly," you say.

Eddie comes over and closes the cabinet doors. You give him the Velveeta but you cling to the jam like it's your firstborn. 

"Grape jelly?" he asks. 

"You only like grape jelly. It's one of the first things I learned about you. Steve made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you said you wanted grape jelly or no jelly."

Eddie nods. "Sounds like something I'd say."

"Well, I—" You swallow and hold up the jar. "I think you made a mistake, Eddie. You bought strawberry jam."

"That wasn't a mistake, sweet thing. I bought it for you."

Macaroni bubbles in a pot and you want to run because you know this is a trick. It must be. 

"For me?"

"Mmhm." 

You watch Eddie's hand twitch, like he's about to tug you into his side, but he stops, because he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Your tongue tastes sour. 

"Strawberry's your favorite, right?" he says. 

You look at the jar again. When you come over for breakfast, you will turn the lid, and the seal will pop. Eddie will smile at you from across the table and tell you about the campaign he's writing. And you'll eat the reminder that you are a part of someone else's life now. 

"You thought of me," you say. 

"I think about you a lot," he replies. 

"You do?"

"I do."

"Oh. I never thought I'd have somebody to think about me.” 

"Well, you do now,” he says, ducking his head so your eyes meet. “That okay?" 

"It's good."

This jar of jam is good. That pot of macaroni is good. Being cared for is good. 

Eddie strains the pasta, and you’re reminded of the fact that you're going to eat together. 

But it doesn't frighten you as much. It doesn't feel like a bribe or blood on your chin. 

You slice the Velveeta. The two of you make food and take care of each other side by side. 

It feels good. It feels like Eddie says he'll stay and he means it. 

It feels like a place on the shelf for your strawberry jam. 

[giddlygoat]

Launchdad? 🤨 🎤

LAUNCHDAD 💪

thanks for the ask! i had this sketch lying around so the timing is perfect.

launchpad and gos’ dynamic is so incredibly important to me. her rambunctious, rebellious spirit and endless energy paired with launchpad’s bottomless positivity and chill aura is so perfect. he’s the most supportive, sweetest father figure she could possibly have. i love how in the show she has no apprehensions about coming to him with anything, and always feels safe with him. it’s how things should be, and a nice change of pace next to drake’s short temper.

one of my favorite scenes in the whole show is in the alien queen one near the beginning when they’re all three on a road trip, and gosalyn turns her home camera to launchpad and says “show us your true self!” iirc and he takes his hands off the steering wheel to make a silly face at her LAWLLLL the dad humor with launchpad is strong. not to mention drake’s immediate chastising him to keep his eyes on the road. they are so married <3

i just love how playful launchpad is with her, yet he always takes her seriously and talks to her on her level. he not only cares for her more than anything but respects her and is always honest with her, which is earning some serious parenting points in my book.

he’s already cultivated such a healthy relationship with her and provided so much security for her before she even calls him “dad”, which i’m almost certain she’s never done in canon. but, i can easily see her doing so by mistake and quickly correcting herself, only to leave launchpad a sobbing heap of overwhelming pride and joy at the title <3

launchpad playing mediator between drake and gos is also so important to me. drake loves her to death, there’s not a doubt. and i know he wants to be the best parent he possibly can for her, but what he lacks in emotional presence he makes up for in over-protectiveness. and i LOVE that we see growth and change in the show, and he is learning more every day! but let’s face it, launchpad is infinitely more approachable.

i think drake sees so much of himself in gos that it’s sometimes hard for him to take a step back and analyze things cooly. like, he was bullied for being a geeky wimp. gos snarls at anyone who implies she isn’t at least as tough as nails. drake had to learn to make it on his own and defend himself when he had no support. gosalyn has had to say goodbye to everyone closest in her life. drake overcompensates for his fragile ego and seeks attention wherever he can find it because he NEEDS to prove he’s the best at everything all the time in order to be worthy. everything gosalyn does when she’s ‘acting out’ is either to earn some kind of respect from drake or to rebel in a search for some relief. drake had no support so he builds four walls and a roof around gosalyn so she never has to be alone, ever.

launchpad stands in the doorway of that box with a smile and a warm hug locked and loaded, because he also knows what it’s like to be alone. can we just. talk about how isolating it is to be so kind? just for a minute. can we talk about how launchpad isn’t capable of giving any less than his all. he pours everything he has into everyone he meets because he also knows how much it hurts to be left, and he doesn’t ever want to be the reason anyone feels that sting. he greets everyone with his signature 100 watt smile that only flickers at the threat of harm done to those he cares for, and provides an immovable rock of support at all times. do you ever wonder why he has exes all over the world yet lived alone in a hangar before meeting drake? do you ever wonder if it was his incessant positivity that pushed people away or his determination to not be a burden ultimately leading to an emotional divide unsurpassable by a well hidden vulnerable side, ironically buried beneath all of this sincerity? do you ever wonder how heavy that heart on his sleeve is?

hey. hey anon whyd you have to give me this prompt /silly

[luckyladylily]

I think one of the most cowardly lies is that opting out of an ethical dilemma is possible.

This comes up every election because of course it does, but it happens so often in so many other ways. The idea that you can avoid entangling yourself in ethically challenging situations by doing nothing is the single most cowardly idea I think I have ever heard. It is an excuse to look away. It's a fucking white guy who thinks "Well I'm not sure about segregation, both sides make good points!" or a cis person who says "I just don't know about kids taking hormones!". These people are prejudice assholes and we all know it. Disengaging from the ethical dilemma is not morally neutral. It is inherently privileged, prejudice, immoral, and cowardly. Once the situation presents itself you are already morally entangled, and non participation is not a way out.

I am not talking about choosing your battles, which you sometimes have to do. No one can fight forever, no one has infinite reach. And, of course, doing nothing can be the best choice. But there is a world of difference between doing nothing because you can't or doing nothing because it is the best choice and doing nothing because you are too afraid to engage with an ethically challenging situation.

And I am going to tell you right now, don't think you are immune because you are progressive. The left is full of cowards like this. You are not immune because you know what copraganda is and say "trans rights!". I've watched the online left fail the most basic ethical tests. I've watched people who think they are moral pillars, people who scream about how they will fight to the death to create a better world hum and haw over if hey, maybe the exclusionists are right when it comes to ace people, or maybe the principles of intersectionality shouldn't apply to transmen!

It's honestly pathetic how bad our movement as a whole is at dealing with even the most easily resolved ethical dilemmas. Hell, these barely even qualify as ethical delimmas, it's just a bunch of prejudice assholes pushing prejudice and the left panicking because oh no, I never learned to think for myself! Better fall into the false balance fallacy because I have a moral backbone made of wet noodles!

And these assholes are supposedly going to lead us into the glorious revolution.

Kill the coward inside you who wants to hide from hard decisions. Study the underlying moral principles of your positions. Call out idiots or assholes who advocate non participation as viable ways to keep your hands clean.

[ballerinainskzville]

Voice Mail - Felix

Summary: your boyfriend, Felix, who’s currently on his first world tour, promised to call after the concert when you messaged him that you had a bad day. While waiting for his call, you fell asleep so he sent you a voice mail instead

Currently thinking of turning this into a series, thoughts anyone?

"Hi Y/N, my angel...

I'm so sorry that it took longer for me to wrap up my schedule for today, you must have waited a long time for me. I promised to be there for you and I failed. I failed you. Which breaks my heart because you needed me today and I wasn’t on my not by your side but couldn’t even be there for you through a call to cheer you up. You must have waited a lot and I’m sorry for that too… I hope you’re having sweet dreams, tomorrow will hopefully be more kind to you. I’ll make it up to you thousands times for today, I promise!

My heart is truly aching that I can't be with you when you're struggling at work. That I can't be there for you, someone to hold onto when you come home. All I can currently do is to assure you that you're doing amazing and that I'm so endlessly proud of you.

Your hard work will pay off. And l'm not only saying this as your boyfriend, but from experience too ahaha...Eventho, between us two, you’re the one who learns new things faster….

To be honest… l'm having some trouble sleeping lately. Something about your presence, having you close to me as I sleep the smell of your hair, the warmth of your body when I wake up next to you... I need it. And I miss it. Like a lot a lot. Double a lot. I can't wait to reunite with you as soon as I step back home.

…to admire that beautiful face of yours, to kiss those lips that whisper my name, to hold you close to me instead of seeing each other on screen. Which gets even harder with my connection problems, the hotel wifi is worse than our Chan hyung’s wifi… yes, that’s actually possible…

But being honest, any contact with you is better than not being able to talk to you at all. Eventho i wish to be together with you physically, this is at least something. Which is better than nothing, right?

I keep reaching out to you in my sleep, when I'm half awake, thinking you're next to me. But of course, you're not in my bed but back home. I was so lonely the other day that I slept over at Changbin hyung’s bed. I can’t sleep alone and without my angel by my side, I can’t really rest..

Because I'm away. So I just reach out to the cold darkness…. and my heart sinks at realization. God, I just wish I could be next to you right now, holding you in my arms as I watch you sleep peacefully. Playing with your hair, counting the freckles on your cheeks.

Assuring you that you're going to make it through this rough time. I long to touch you, to kiss you. I can't spend another split second away from you.

Did I ever tell you how much I admire you? You're the strongest, most amazing person l've ever met. Your work ethic, your kindness and the way you always try to see the best in people no matter how bad someone appears to be, is truly admirable and only some of the things I love so infinitely about you. The way your eyes lit up when you win against me at Mario kart, it makes my heart skip a beat and I fall even more in love with you each time.

even miss our tickle fights and how we end up cuddling afterwards, miss it all. I miss you. I miss you a lot...

I'm so proud of you, baby. Because despite the struggles, you're working hard and are determinate to push past the obstacles. Never underestimate your worth, baby. You're amazing and made to achieve big things. Especially, your own dreams. You've worked so hard, it won't be in vain. I'm sure of that.

Can I actually tell you a little secret? I'm sure you know it already ahaha... I'm so in love with you.

I can't wait to be with you again. I'm not going to let you go once you're back in my arms. Lots of cuddles, kisses and cookies, okay?

I'll let you sleep now... I mean, you're already sleeping but I don't know how to come up with a good ending for this voice mail... I love you, baby.

Don't ever forget that”

[elslittlestories]

The Bad Autistic Batch

I've had this in the back of my head for a while and finaly took the time to write it down. It's a mix of observtions and headcanons I guess? On how I feel like the 4 original members of the Bad Batch are all autistic af!

Tech

The obvious one. He said it himself, his brain doesn’t process thoughts and moments the way most people do.

He has a hard time identifying his feelings and therefore tends to push them away and rely on logic and rational thoughts, which always come easy and loud in his mind.

Very gifted, he’s too smart to care about social rules and never bothered to learn cues and small talk. He was created to solve problems, people shouldn’t expect anything else from him. He comes off as cold and obnoxious to most people, always speaks bluntly without thinking of the effect of his words on the person opposite him. Simply because it doesn’t occur naturally to him that some truth might need sugarcoating.

He’s a self-taught everything, with infinite curiosity and thirst for knowledge. He gets bored fast though and will skip from one subject to another as soon as he feels like he’s mastered it. He’ll get REALLY excited if you ask him questions about anything.

He doesn’t care about his looks, as long as it’s practical, he’s good with any outfits. Although, he’ll wear comfy clothes whenever he can. His hair is kept just long enough so that he can slick them back with gel and get them stuck with his goggles’ headband.

To self-sooth, he relies on his sound databank—he can listen to a record on a loop for hours—and mental games such as counting backward from 1 million with only prime numbers. Tapping on his datapad is probably also a sort of stimming.

Outside of his brothers, he has a hard time maintaining a relationship, may they be platonic or not. To start, he doesn’t really understand the concept of different types of relationships. He’s oblivious to most hints of interest and needs someone—Wrecker—to point it out. He’ll panic, be really awkward about it, overshare to hide his fluster…until he figures out what makes you tick and weaponizes it!

Crosshair

In case there were any doubt, he’s a neat freak. He NEEDS his stuff to be in the right place, as much as he needs routine and discipline to control his stress level. Even though his military training has taught him how to deal with the unexpected, he has a hard time dealing with change.

If given the choice, he’d only wear his blacks. The tightness of the fabric is comforting and he doesn’t have to think about assembling an outfit or whatever. He cuts his hair every week, the same exact way, from left to right, then the backside of his head.

He won’t eat new food unless his hunger is life threatening, not because of sensory issues but because his transit is a bigger drama queen than he is!

He’s the most emotionally immature of the squad and used to have the wildest mood swings. He became good at keeping a stern straight face once he realized people would use it as a way to arm him. He’s also the most stubborn: good luck trying to change his mind on anything.

On a general basis, he hates people. Especially the one that wants to touch him! The only person allowed to hug him is Wrecker, because there’s no stopping him anyway. He may go mute when overwhelmed, hence the number of fights he got himself into rather than have a talk. With time and around the right people, he might get better at dealing with his feelings, but for now it’s easier to just avoid people, since they’re the one causing said feelings.

Maintaining any sort of relationship is close to impossible outside of his brothers. It takes a very special person—like Echo—to get his affection and respect. Romantic feeling are out of his bucket list, he finds the concept of flirting ridiculous anyway. If you want to be with him, just say it! He’ll probably reject you, the man has some heavy attachment/abandonment issues to sort out first. Trust Omega to help with that, so maybe one day…

Wrecker

THE emotionally mature one of the squad! Feelings are always intense for him and he wears them on his face. He’ll cry for anything, but since he can break your spine with his bare hands, people usually don’t make fun of him out loud.

He has huge difficulties in learning practical stuff—he was the last to speak clearly and read—and won’t do anything good with verbal instructions if they go longer than 5 to 10 words. He’s good with his hands, though, and once Tech got him into the marvelous world of explosives, he became unstoppable. Even Tech will admit Wrecker is the expert in the matter.

Another thing he was quick to learn, thanks to his emotional awareness and Hunter’s help, was how to read people. If only to stop being played! It might also be the secret to their squad sticking together despite their differences and hot temper.

He’s very open about needing "autistic joy", such as eating his favorite snack, listening to a song on a loop and watching things blow up. It tends to make him look childish. His brothers are very protective over this and make sure nothing prevents Wrecker to enjoying his sweet nothings.

He loves to isolates for an hour or two, to watch his favorite holovids, but is otherwise very touchy feely. Hugs sooth him a lot when he’s stressed out. If he can’t get one, he’ll rely on singing his favorite tune or repeating a word in his head. He used to do it out loud when he was a kid but it drove his brothers mad so he internalized it.

He can handle a flirt, although he has a hard time catching a hint. It’s easier to notice someone’s interest on others than himself, probably because of his lack of self-esteem. He’d most likely be a very clingy partner.

Hunter

AKA the king of masking. He may look as close to normal as a defective clone can be, in control of himself, but take a step into his mind and you’ll be surprised.

First of all, he has HUGE sensory issues, no doubt worsened by his genetic enhancement. He has learned to tough it out and ignore the strong reaction some textures or smell or sounds causes him to experience. But they tend to turn into stress. He’s constantly devoured by anxiety and fear—of anything from touching that one thing that will overstimulate him so much he won’t be able to function, to making a bad call that cause one of his brother’s death—and there’s no amount of spinning his knife that can sooth it.

He relies on rules and discipline to get a sense of control, even though one might argue his sense of both those concepts is not exactly by the book. It tends to help with tuning down his emotions as well. Just like every sensory input is loud to him, his feeling can be deafening and mastering them was mandatory to become the squad leader.

It was with that in mind that he became an expert in social behaviors. Mostly unconsciously, he studied everyone around him to learn how to hold himself and how to read the room. Despite him being naturally introverted, you’ll often find him chatting with the various captains his squad was assigned to work with. Told you, he’s a king of masking.

On the rare occasions he failed to contain his emotions—bursts of anger on the battlefield aside—it came out loud and violent. Took Wrecker to squeeze him in his arms for Hunter to calm down.

One thing he couldn’t learn this way is flirting. He can’t do it for his life, despite being the receiver of numerous attempts from various species. Maybe it’s because of his sensory issues, but the idea of sex is of no appeal to him and he has never felt something strong enough to be called romantic love. That stuff is just not for him, he feels contempt with his brothers and Omega.

Oh, and the bandana is just an excuse for no easy hair routine. Give him one reason to get out of his armor and blacks, and he’ll slip into floppy clothes in a heartbeat.

Last but not least, all four of them have a STRONG sens of justice—although sometime missplaced—and prefers staying home rather than being anywhere else, wherever home may be.

[sonicjustbecause]

Two wrongs don't make one right.

I must admit i'm surprised about so many people siding with the villain (Nine) in Sonic Prime and wanting him to win while wanting see Sonic to lose, even wanting his death just because he is sometimes airheaded in this serie. Certainly it shows that Nine is a fine character who is relatable to many. But what he is doing in the third serie is messed up and not justifiable.

Nine getting drunk of power.

Nine wanting to take Sonic's life not for revenge but just for his goals.

What else? I'm sure there will be many we'll see in the third serie.

I compare Nine to another character who started with good intentions and descended into darkness. Zamasu.

Zamasu is a kaioh who decides to become a kaiohshin with the goal to keep the order of the universe he belongs. Unfortunately, despite working toward the goal to become a god of creation (Kaiohshin), he thinks like a god of destruction (Hakaishin). Hakaishin of Dragon ball aren't evil. they work toward keeping order in the universe alongshide the kaioshin. But Zamasu despise all intelligent lifeforms 8he calls them mortal, being them humans, humanoid lizards, charizards etc...). Unfortunately, Zamasu thinks all mortal are evil and deserve to die. And he considers evil even the gods who try to stop him.

Nine gest corrupted when he gains all the piece of the prism. He can do everything he wants and think his power is infinite.

This is the typical pose of a villain who is drunk of power.

Coming back to Zamasu, he gets corrupted once he understands he can take action to reach his goal.

In this Zamasu is different from Nine. Zamasu is a proactive villain. he takes decisions and makes havoc. Nine is a passive villain. If he never meet Sonic, He would still live peacefully in his lab, working at his invention, trying to make his life better while being an inoffensive citizien (ot at worst occasionally hacking Chaos Council servers for his personal goals). For this i don't agree about Nine being a protagonist (to me he lacks all characteristics a protagonist has). Apart for the title of the serie (is Sonic Prime, not Nine Prime), Nine, as much as aggressive and with a well defined personality, is a passive character who act after stuffs happened.

Protagonists like Sonic, have the power to change the people around them. He gave a boost to all the counterparts who were pure hearted and made them his allies. He involved Shadow in all of this and gained his support and Shadow is slowly opening up. He pushed Nine out from his den. And he is the real wielder of the prysm power, although he still doesn't know/doesn't understand that. Not all protagonists are talented of course but they all have the power and the determination to change the world through people around them.

Yes, there are protagonists that are passive (like Goku). But even passive protagonists have the powers I've mentioned above. Nine doesn't have anything like that. Nine is one of the many that needs the action and the influence of a protagonists to take decision and moving toward changes.

Nine is a great passive villain and a dangerous one.

Now, OK he was bullied and live in Pyongyang New Yolk with all related issues. But being bullied as a child or having lived in a ditactorship doesn't make you immune to mistakes, nor it makes you immune from taking the lesson you deserve. And Nine really need at least a metaphorical ass whooping right now. I'm prtetty sure he will learn the hard way. and probably in the end he will win. Just like Sonic and Shadow.