#I think this one is considered hurt/comfort

[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?�� You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

��How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[strawberrykidneystone]

i guess she's gotta cut her blue hair off

summary: you and sevika hadn't seen jinx since isha died, and you were getting worried. until she showed up at your doorstep looking more lost than ever

a/n: jinx is alive idc idc

tags: ANGST, self harm mentioned briefly, grief, crying, hair cutting

ao3 version

it was late at night when you heard a loud pounding at your door. you looked at sevika curiously and she shrugged, glancing over at the door with the same confusion as you.

waking over to the door and checking the peephole, you immediately recognized the blue hair and bright pink eyes of your “honorary daughter”. when you opened the door, it was like seeing a ghost of someone who was once jinx.

her hair was down for the first time you had ever seen and the vibrant energy that was usually around her was just... gone. she was a shell of a person she once was and she came to the only two people who had accepted her for who she is, the only two people who were almost as close to isha as she was.

you immediately ushered her in and called out for sevika who was in her office looking over silco's old papers, trying to gain some semblance of how to gain order for zaun once again. when she came around the corner and saw jinx, her face slightly paled with her mouth hanging open.

none of you spoke.

you brought her to the couch in the living room and sat her down, isha's toys laid untouched on the ground as neither you nor sevika had the heart to pick them up. jinx quietly leaned down to pick one up and turned the toy over in her hand, her bottom lip trembling so much it made your chest ache to think of what must be running through her mind. sevika quietly walked up behind the couch and put a hand on your shoulder, looking worriedly at jinx.

she finally looked up and met your eyes, letting the toy fall from her hand, "cut it."

you furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head in concern, "what?"

she clenched her jaw and gripped the ends of her hair, pathetically holding them up to you. she let her head fall and hung her head low in quiet shame, "cut. it."

you patted sevika's hand and glanced back at her as you softly asked, "baby, can you get the scissors from our bathroom?"

" 'course," she nodded and quickly set off, almost desperate to get out of the cold atmosphere of the room.

jinx's breath hitched as she convulsed forward and started sobbing, pressing her hair against her eyes with her nails digging into the skin above her eyebrows. you pulled her forward into your chest and held her as she screamed out, hitting the top of her head with her hair balled up in her fists. you grabbed her wrists to stop her from hurting herself and silently cried with her, using one hand to hold her wrists together while the other one petting her head.

"i know, i know, just let it all out," you said in the most comforting manner that you could, your voice breaking as a wave of grief crashed over you as you held one of the girls you considered a daughter in your arms, knowing that you would never see her little sister again. you squeezed your eyes shut and silently cursed hextech and whatever fate kept jinx from being happy for once in her life.

sevika rushed back into the room and held out the scissors to you, her eyes shifting between you and the back of jinx's head.

"i'm gonna cut your hair now, are you sure this is what you want?" you asked quietly, another sob leaving jinx's mouth as she nodded assuredly.

"okay then," you pushed back the hair from her forehead and kissed her temple. she was shaking like a leaf and clung to the front of your shirt, kneeled between your legs. you held up the first chunk of hair on the side of her head and eyeballed it to about chin length, unsure of how much she truly wanted gone.

with a single snip, it was gone.

jinx felt the weight lifting off of her head and sucked in a stuttering breath, reaching up to the cut piece. she pinched the shorter strands and ran her fingers through it, suddenly tugging on the rest of her hair, "off! i want it off now!"

"okay okay, it's gonna come off," you said as calmly as you could and quickly started chopping off uneven parts of her hair, trying to get the length as even as possible but it was a little hard as she kept jerking forward as she wept. you held chunks with one hand and hacked away with the other, long blue strands falling off her back and crumpling onto the floor. with each close of your scissors, you couldn’t help but feel like you were cutting years off of her life.

as soon as you cut all the way around her head, jinx suddenly froze, shaky hands reaching up and feeling the uneven hair. she grabbed at her hair and rocked back and forth, mumbling things that you couldn’t make out to herself. a warm palm pressed against your back and you looked up at sevika with watery eyes. her eyes were darting nervously around the room with so much uncertainty, something you knew she was very uncomfortable feeling.

suddenly, jinx reached up and cupped your cheeks with her pink eyes boring into yours, a genuine smile on her face, “thank you.”

you returned the smile and curled your hands around her wrists, “anytime.”

she pulled her hands away and ran out of the front door before you could say anything else or ask why, leaving you sitting on the couch with a halo of blue hair in front of you. sevika rounded the couch and kneeled down next to you, taking one of your hands in hers, “are you okay?”

you nodded quietly and stared down at the long blue hair, a sense of dread filling your chest. tugging sevika close, you engulfed her in a tight hug that she immediately reciprocated.

“what the fuck are we gonna do with all that damn hair?”

you snorted and buried your face into her chest, “god i don’t know… i’m worried about her sev.”

“…me too” she said barely above a whisper, kissing your cheek softly.

“we’ll find her in the morning. for now, let’s get some sleep,” she said definitively and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to your shared room.

isha’s toys and jinx’s hair haunted your living room, with jinx destined to see isha again soon.

a/n: imagine caitvi having sex during this that's CRAZY😭😭😭

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[eldritchneuro]

One thing that I seen Stampede Wolfwood often characterized as by folks is well... distant is probably the best word for it. Mopey. Averse. The sort of guy who you wouldn't catch asking for a hug on the worst day of his life.

But I don't think that's true. Or at least, not beyond being a front he puts up. And there's one scene that for me confirms it. Because when Vash gets shot in Julai, Wolfwood's first response isn't to attack back.

It's to run over, put an arm out for support, and check in on him. Only when Vash shows himself to be okay do we see Wolfwood tell these people to back the fuck off.

You could read motivation into this act of comfort. There's fuel here for shipping, or perhaps Wolfwood is that terrified of his boss's mark getting injured. But it does also pair nicely with another scene not a few minutes later.

"My body moves before I can think."

In the split second before someone gets hurt, Vash isn't considering whether or not he should help them. He just does. The desire to protect is something so deeply ingrained in his core that it has become pure instinct.

And I think it's the same with Wolfwood. The moment that he takes to put up that shield of unbothered-ness is a moment too late. Big brother Nico has already taken action.

And even when he's just messing around, for someone who is meant to be cold and uncaring, Wolfwood's suspiciously handsy. This scene between him and Meryl would not have the same affectionate 'bickering siblings' vibe if he didn't insist on throwing his arm around her.

He's trying to mask it here by being annoying, but there's affection here. Not just emotionally, but through physical touch. Proximity too - guy's not adverse to getting up in people's faces to nick (ha) stuff.

And even at his most hostile and snappy, well, there's no strict reason why he has to get so close to Vash and grab him by the shirt like this:

But is it really a surprise that Wolfwood's like this? After all, the flashback with Livio shows that he was absolutely an affectionate and caring kid, even if edgy-teenager logic would have it utterly mortifying to admit out loud. The Eye of Michael can try to beat it out of him all they want, but a desire for closeness isn't something you can just remove from someone. It may end up muted, sure, but deep down it will always still be there.

TL;DR Wolfwood is absolutely secretly the biggest cuddlebug on this godforsaken planet and you can't convince me otherwise.

[phyrestartr]

Nemesis (The Man I Miss) | Miguel O'hara x M!BlackCat!Reader (TEASER)

CW: jealousy, violence, brutality, self-loathing, implied depression, possessive relationship #NSFW, Top!Miguel, Bottom!Reader, hurt/comfort, anti-hero reader, complicated relationships, lonely reader, crook turned hero, reader is a tired guy, mutual pining - Note: Posting some WIPs I've had laying around for a while while I try to finish up the next HOUND update! Needed a bit of a break from it since it's pretty long, but I hope some teasers make up for the wait. Tysm for reading!

Taking care of Nueva York was exhausting. You were far too used to being the problem rather than the problem-solver. That job reserved itself for the one and only Spiderman–your Spiderman. 

At least, you liked to think he was yours. 

Knowing my luck, the prick’s run off with his shocking wife or something. The thought plagued your mind too often. And it was true: Spiderman disappeared. He no longer served Nueva York and kept it safe, he no longer caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, he no longer gave chase throughout the city before pinning you down on some rooftop and taking his prize by force. And you liked it–no, you loved it. Fucking with the man who’d always get to fuck you back came to be a part of life you relished. 

But now you were alone. Left by yourself to deal with lumbering lizards and giggling goblins while wondering how the fuck you’d ended up as a hero when you were anything but. Even the police couldn’t believe the switch, which caused some problems, and led to less-sexy chases that ended with you getting away no problem. 

I wish I had problems. Just one problem, though: Spiderman. 

You tossed aside your shiny leathers and collapsed into your bed. He’d never been there, no, but you fantasized about it. You thought about his impossibly wide back and the ripple of taut muscle greeting you in the morning, or maybe his built chest and strong neck–or maybe his handsome face–well, you’d never seen his face, but you had your guesses. 

Your chest twinged the slightest bit, somewhere between where your greed and feelings intertwined.

Ugh. You missed him. 

–

“Who's that?” Peter remarked as he walked up on Miguel. The lab was dark and dreary, spilling with shades of orange and amber where the blues couldn't reach. And Miguel, the source of the cold, stood in front of the firelight, gazing upon your image in the newscycle. 

Miguel frowned. “No one.” But he didn't tuck your image nor the article away. 

“Huh, looks like Black Cat. A 2099 Black Cat? Never thought I'd see the day.” Peter hummed and bounced a sleepy Mayday in his arms. “He up to no good?” 

“He's up to good,” Miguel bit out. “That's the problem. He doesn't do good.” 

“He's sort of an anti-hero these days,” Lyla cut in, blinking into existence on Peter's shoulder like the devil she was. “All thanks to Spiderman's influence–” 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned (begged?). 

“--aaand their sweet, cute budding romance,” she finished with a dreamy sigh. “Doesn't it just melt your heart?” 

–

You pinned him against the wall and let your hands trace through the hard lines of his muscles on your way down to your ultimate prize. Spiderman shuddered and stayed still, much to your surprise, letting you feel him, letting you acknowledge the hardness bulging under your criminal touch. Because he dreamt of this too. Dreamt of you touching him, of you falling down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his masked face even when you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to stretched fabric holding back his filled cock. 

“So strong,” you cooed, “but not strong enough to resist, hm?” You sighed and worked him through the fabric with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be stopping the big bad from manhandling you like this, Spidey?”

“Hardly consider you the big bad,” he scoffed back. Spiderman tilted his head back with a choked groan whent hose diamond-tipped clawed gloves dug into his thighs. “Mierda, you–”

“Oh?” You grinned, so cheshire, so in-theme with your persona. “You can stop me any time, no?” 

He could’ve. But he didn’t. 

–

“A daughter,” you murmured. The flickering images–memories, maybe?–were there, waiting quietly for you, preserved and kept precious in shades of amber. But the scene was so alive; you could feel the stretch of the sun against your gloved touch, you basked in the crisp Spring air of that soccer game, you drowned in the warmth of that father's smile–

Spidey's smile. That was beyond obvious. The mountainous shoulders, the tawny skin, those hands– they belonged to him. Your beast. Your nemesis and lover, the man you hadn’t seen for far too long–

“Because you've been off taking care of a kid?” Your fingers, gentle, feather-light, ghosted across that foreign memory. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Who’s your baby mama?

The lab lights stilted and jittered. You snapped from your trance and made for the window you’d come in through, not bothering to see what was happening with your system jammers–you knew Lyla, she knew you, and that made the whole breaking-into-Spiderman’s-base thing more tricky and risky. Your jammer wasn’t fool-proof. It was quite easy to override, actually, but the interference was the difficult thing to detect in the first place. You only thought you’d need a handful of minutes to see your spider, anyway.

But he wasn’t there. Maybe he was off with his little girl. 

Something cacophonous and nerve-wracking churned to the sound of warping electricity behind you as you dove from the window and slid down the side of the skyscraper, claws shrieking against metal and glass alike until you could launch off and latch onto a passing hover car. The periphery of your mind swore it saw flashes of orange and yellow, more violent and heavy than the screens you stared at in that dower room, and maybe you might have heard a familiar voice too. 

The broad, tiny silhouette standing in that abandoned window gave you much more to think about.  -- Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[rakhalofthestars]

Under His Bangs

Synopsis: Boothill finally lets you see what he's been hiding underneath his bangs.

Tags: Boothill x gn reader, established relationship, Boothill's backstory, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, soft Boothill <3 a/n: This fic is based off my headcanon on what I like to think is underneath his bangs :3

Warnings: Self depreciation and talks of appearance, Boothill might also be a bit ooc here :(

wc: 1 733

Many parts of Boothill’s appearance are striking, causing him to easily stand out in a crowd. Poor guy. Blending in was never his strong suit and his metal body makes it even more difficult. There just aren’t many cyborgs who looked the way he did. 

It’s not like Boothill ever tried to blend in much. Everything from his whole cowboy get-up to his boisterous personality screamed that he was someone who you wouldn’t want to forget about anytime soon. Not to mention the bounty on his head that had risen to the billions recently.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for, darlin’? I ain’t even responsible for half the things these people be accusin’ me for! I mean, just look at me, ain’t I just the picture of a saint?” Boothill protested one time when you had shoved his wanted poster in his face. On the poster was a (admittedly good) photo of him with his signature shit-eating grin along with the sum of a whopping one billion credits stamped underneath.

You had sighed back then, knowing you can’t argue with him and in all honesty, you doubt he was actually responsible for the wares disappearing from a shop at Pier Point shopping street. Maybe the poor employee was really just trying to get out of listening to Karen complain their ear off. Considering the amount of trouble he’s caused at Pier Point for the IPC, it’s no surprise that Boothill made a long lasting impression on everyone there. 

That’s the thing about Boothill. Every part of him always left an impression. Whether the impression was good or bad really depended on whether you were with the “shirt bags at the IPC” as he liked to call it. 

Even though you had been traveling with the Galaxy Ranger for quite some time now, there was one aspect of his appearance that was constantly on your mind. His bangs. They were so mysterious and styled in such a way as well. 

Why were his bangs the only part of his hair that was fully black? Why did they cover his right eye? Was it a stylistic choice to cover his right eye and look like an emo? Or was there some other, more bigger reason behind covering part of his face like that?

The flurry of questions always swirled about in your head whenever you were with him. It almost made you dizzy at times. However, since you knew about all that the man had been through prior to becoming a cyborg, you kept quiet and never tried to pry. It didn’t go unnoticed by Boothill though, the curiosity that was always brimming in your eyes when they flicked momentarily to his bangs. He really did want to explain what was underneath. The problem was that he just wasn’t sure whether he was ready to open this specific can of worms.

But when something is meant to happen, the opportunity for it will naturally present itself.

You and Boothill were lying on the motel bed, simply basking in one another’s presence. It was one of those quiet nights where all you wanted to do was to just forget about your worries and relax.

Lying on the soft mattress with Boothill’s body acting as a sort of weighted blanket whilst his face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck, you really don't want to ruin this slice of paradise by asking about his bangs. Nor does he want to ruin that lazy little smile on your lips by revealing this particular skeleton in his closet.

Your hands roam about and glide over him mindlessly until your fingers are suddenly tangling themselves in his hair. You massage his scalp gently before bringing his face out of its little hiding spot in your neck. An uncharacteristic and borderline pathetic little whine sounds from Boothill’s lips but it’s forgotten as the crosshair in Boothill’s eye locks onto you, the tiny target in the middle forming into the shape of a heart because each and every time you caress his face, he swears he’s falling in love even more than he thought was possible. He has the most adorable little smile on his face but it falters when your hand strays just a bit too far, almost brushing his bangs away from his face. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to”, you apologize immediately and retract your hand, knowing that the fact that Boothill even allows you to touch him and his hair so freely is something that not many get and you’d hate to overstep his boundaries.

“...Naw, it’s fine. I ain’t mad, darlin’,” is Boothill’s reply as he brings your hand back to his face, already missing your touch. He places your hand right underneath his bangs and the look in his eyes tells you that it was no mistake on his part for the placement.

“Can I…?”

The man hesitates, something that you’ve rarely ever seen him do. He’s always so sure of himself, so confident with each and every single move of his. What could possibly make him hesitate?

“Yeah, go ahead”, Boothill finally says.

Despite the bit of excitement that’s bubbling within you, you don’t rush to see what’s underneath. You take your time, simply feeling the soft skin and watching how your partner looks on with anxiety but also affection. He wants to know- no. He needs to know how you’ll react. Even if it might hurt him. You’ve done so much for him. You’ve loved him, taken care of him, listened to him without any judgment and have been with him through the highs and lows of this chapter of his life as he navigates through depression, anxiety and this new robot body of his. You deserved to know.

With love and care etched into your movements, you slowly brush aside the black locks of hair that covered part of Boothill’s face. 

Under his bangs, was a big, dark burn mark that marred the area his hair normally covered along with a deep scar that ran vertically down his right eye, causing it to be shut tight. 

Silence permeated throughout the room as you drank in the sight and Boothill stared back anxiously, waiting for you to say something.

“Oh…”, you finally breathe out and the Galaxy Ranger winces.

His breath hitches and his left eye widens in disbelief. Beautiful? Was there something wrong with your eyes? He was tempted to ask but falls silent when you trace the darker flesh with reverent touches and bring his face closer to press the lightest kiss on top of his right eye.

“It’s hideous, ain’t it?”

“You’re so beautiful, Boothill.”

“You’re so very beautiful.”

“Well fudge…ya can’t just say that, sugar. Gon’ make a man cry”, Boothill mumbles, his gravelly voice cracking so subtly you could’ve thought that you imagined it. He had never exposed himself like this to anyone. He could count on one hand the amount of times he felt as vulnerable as he did now. 

“Why can’t I say it? You’re the handsomest man that I’ve ever seen. If you want to cry then go ahead, there’s nothing wrong with crying. But believe me when I say you’re gorgeous.”

“How could you ever find a bag o’ bolts like me beautiful?”

“These scars on your face…they tell stories of who you are and what you’ve gone through. I won’t force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable but you don’t have to hide them. Not around me at least,” you whisper against his skin. Hidden in your words was an underlying plea that was only for him to hear. 

“Because you are. If I could, I’d let you see yourself through my eyes just so you could realize what a sight you are.”

With every word that passes your lips, you press soft kisses across his face, paying extra attention to the right side that he deemed “ugly”. It was as if your kisses were paint and his face was your canvas as he allows you to paint your love onto him. 

Please let me take your pain and shoulder it with you. Please let me shower you with the love that was robbed from you. Please don’t push me away.

A shuddering gasp escapes Boothill, the first sound that he’s made now in a while. He needs time and that’s what you give. You fill the silence with fond caresses and gentle kisses until the man finally manages to speak.

“Mah face wasn’t always like this, y’know. It was…on that night. When them cannons were falling down from the IPC…”, his voice cracks and he trails off. You wanted to know more but stayed silent, letting him take things at his own pace.

“I was runnin’ home, praying to every Aeon that I could think of at the time that everything would be all fine and dandy…Wasn’t really lookin’ where I was runnin’ and neither was I thinkin’ much about dodgin’ the bombs. A bit o’ burnin’ shrapnel fell on this side of mah face here and well…y’can see for yerself what happened.”

“When I went to that tech doc to get this here body of mine, I asked her to not do anythin’ to these scars. Maybe it’s stupid since I can’t stand to look at ‘em, but I just didn’t want to do away with ‘em. I wanted to keep ‘em, as a reminder of that night and what it is that I fight for. Not like I need much remindin’ but heh…y’know…”

Boothill lets out a small, bitter chuckle before burying his face back in the crook of your neck. He had long lost the ability to cry but he swore that if he continued to talk, he’d end up breaking down in front of you and that was something he wished to avoid.

All you can do now is to comfort him because the fact that he’s told you all of this means that yes, he will allow you to shoulder his pain with him. Yes, he’ll allow you to shower him with the love that he was robbed of. No, he won’t push you away. So continue with what you’ve been doing all this time. Continue to assure him of his beauty and his worth. Continue to love him because Lan knows how long he’s gone without it.

[goodyordle]

An Analysis on Season 2 Vi

SPOILER under the cut

I have SO many thoughts about how they wrote Vi this season. So I get that they wanted to go with a more vulnerable Vi this season compared to the tough character we had in season 1. I was excited for this direction for her character, that’s why I’m kind of disappointed that she felt flat and more one-dimensional this time around.

Firstly, I felt like in season 1, Vi was such a centerpiece to the show. From her relationship with Jinx and following Vander’s legacy. She actively moves the plot with these two elements.

But in season 2, I barely see her do anything that contributes to the plot actively and takes a much more passive role. This time, Caitlyn and Jinx are taking the lead on shaping her goals (whether this is her becoming an enforcer or her saving Vander). As a viewer, I do empathize with Vi. We see time and time again that she is a character that values loyalty and keeping her loved ones close to her, and she keeps getting betrayed.

But we never see these arcs get resolved, at least in a satisfying manner. We never see her find strength in her vulnerability or regain courage to find herself again. And this is an arc that most, if not all, characters in Arcane had. All of them had some sort of redemption and willingness to make things right.

We never see Vi try to grow beyond her comfort zone (which is using her fists / brawling). We don’t see her use her vulnerability as a new way to show toughness to her character.

For instance, the argument with Caitlyn. Now I enjoy this ship as much as the next person but I felt like the conflict got resolved a bit too quickly? It’s clear that Vi’s trauma of betrayal and abandonment runs deep (man, I feel so bad for her tbh).

My interpretation of this last shot of Cait and Vi (after Caitlyn asks “are you still in this fight, Violet?), in my opinion, also reflects this lack of resolution, where Vi generally looks more closed off. There is no raw vulnerability that Vi displays. She never expressed how hurt she was with Caitlyn’s actions. Even when Vi says she is the “dirt under Cait’s fingernails”, her expression looks quite pained and tired.

Then we have the argument with Jinx. Their sibling dynamic is the key plot of Arcane and is a heavily emphasized theme but their resolutions feel underwhelming both times.

The first time was when Jinx locked her up in the cell. I mean the fact that Vi didn’t immediately go look for Jinx given that she was depressed felt a bit out of character for me. Like she gave no emotional reassurance to Jinx who was obviously guilt-ridden from Isha’s death. Again, no vulnerability. And the placement of the Caitvi *cough cough* scene was questionable, considering it was right after Jinx expressed her anguish. Yes, she wants Vi to be happy, but wasn’t Vi’s character this whole time shown as one who is happy when she can take care of the people she loves?

Like if I were to draw a parallel to Jayce and Viktor, where Jayce says that he just wants his partner back, they could’ve had done something similar between Vi and Jinx. Vi could have expressed that she just wanted her family back. She needed her sister, which is something she never expressed because the dynamic was always of Jinx needing Vi.

Anyways back to that scene, I felt like it would have been more impactful honestly if Caitlyn even encouraged Vi to find her sister since I think that is quite fitting to Caitlyn’s arc as well and adds more depth to her feelings towards Jinx. If they had a bit more emotional resolution, I feel like her final scene with Jinx would have been more impactful. (And probably would add more emotional weight and spiciness to the Caitvi scene too iykwim)

That brings me to the second scene when Jinx sacrifices herself. The aftermath felt too rushed for me. When we have Vi acting like “normal” right after Jinx’ sacrifice, it diminishes their relationship in my eyes. Granted, I doubt she’s normal. In fact, I think Vi looks really resigned in her final scene but again, this is a bit difficult to pick up if there are no context clues.

Like in terms of the concept, I get it. I believe the writers were trying to make a full circle moment where Vi, who was the protector of her little sister, is now the one being protected by Jinx, who is now all grown up. It’s just the execution that doesn’t sit too well with me. Maybe it’s the pacing because I feel like as a viewer, you have to digest so many emotional scenes at once.

I just wish we had more opportunities to see Vi be vulnerable and show that as a source of new strength and as a way to reinforce her relationships with Jinx and Caitlyn. But unfortunately, her character development ended up static. And honestly she’s such a tragic character that had that potential. They showed her trauma even in the final scene with Vander/Warwick and how she couldn’t even bring herself to move despite Jinx’ warning. Like show more of that!! Let her be the one that needs to be protected by those she used to protect, instead of just following them around and beating up their enemies. As a result, I felt like she didn’t really add much weight to the finale (low key Maddie had more of a plot). Like this show is still a 10/10 with solid writing but this, after processing the show, I believe is its weakest point.

They can never make me hate you, Vi, you deserved a better character arc :(

[cheshiresense]

Oh my God, you mentioned wanting to write a thing about when Starrk finally let's his reiatsu out, and honestly, I've been thinking about that so much!!! Like here is Starrk, who has been keeping his reiatsu down to around average, who sleeps all the time, so doesn't stand out, who stands beside Ichigo, Ichigo who crazy stands out, also Starrk who joins the 4th, the 4th who everyone else considers to be weaklings!! You imagine the look on everyone's face the first time he let's lose!?! Maybe some bullying goes too far, and Starrk, who nobody thinks much of, just smacks them down hard!!! And everyone is like WTF lol 😆

sorry, I just love the idea of when people realize that Starrk is actually strong like Ichigo!! So 😁 funny!! Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. I love reading them.

Lol yes it's one of those scenes that you see happen in so many different ways and all of them would be fun. I'm undecided on how I want to do it Officially so I'm putting it off (or maybe I'll just write several of them lmao).

I imagine it would have to be very serious bullying for Starrk to take that much action, cuz like he really isn't the sort to step in for every little thing. If it happens to someone he considers one of his, he might note it down and then quietly go and prevent it from happening again from behind the scenes, but in real time, he'd rather diffuse the situation or leave it to the "victim" to handle it and only step in if it looks like they really can't, and even stepping in would just be a sharp word or two to run the bully off. He's not a straightforward bleeding heart the way Ichigo is, cuz the hit-the-problem-so-it's-no-longer-a-problem method is def Ichigo's go-to strategy, he would absolutely smack the shit out of someone bullying Asuka or Rangiku in front of him and be done with it right then and there, prob flaring his reiatsu without even meaning to cuz his control's a lot better these days but it's also kind of 0 to 50, well-hidden or flashing neon sign, no in-between unless he really concentrates 😂 It's another reason Starrk would have little reason of his own to act, cuz like Ichigo would absolutely beat him to it.

For me, I could prob imagine him unleashing his reiatsu/revealing his strength if someone's about to die and the threat is big enough that he actually has to flex. He's just not someone who'd easily show what he can do, and hiding it from the likes of Aizen and the Quincy wouldn't even be his top reason. It's more like lingering PTSD--his strength doesn't bother him anymore now that he's had years of proven control under his belt, and he's even needed every last bit of his power over the past decade of war, but subconsciously, he's still not 100% comfortable with just letting anyone feel it, even tho he has enough control now that it wouldn't hurt them unless he wants it to because what if? So like, his first instinct will always be to keep it locked down, and for minor stuff (altho minor is relative for him I guess lolol), pulling out that much power is def a last resort.

Again, it contrasts what Ichigo would do. Ichigo's just used to overkill. Like even before he got his powers, he learned that an overwhelming show of strength would solve most of his gangster-related problems very easily, plus he lived in a household where Isshin only backed off from kicking him into a wall or something by kicking first or kicking back. And then after he got his powers, it's not even really his fault that he internalized a "might is right" kind of mindset /points at the entire fucking SS invasion arc and honestly every arc after that/. And also he spent his first years of Shinigami-ing running around with an unsealed Zanpakutou and zero reiatsu control, being in a constant state of Shikai is natural for him, and (moving into this AU's headcanon territory) it took him several months into the Quincy War before he finally learned to seal it away and actually have other ways of fighting that isn't just flinging Getsuga Tenshous around. He uses Bankai the way other people use hand-to-hand combat or Kidou spells, so even now, his first instinct is to just hit the problem hard enough so that it won't get back up to do more harm, and for him, that applies to everything from schoolyard bullying to fighting monster-gods. And on top of all that, his actions are largely driven by emotion. More than anything else, his first reflex is to protect, and that often leads to him throwing way more power at a threat than he actually needs to. He knows how to be more subtle these days, but it's not his preferred method and def not a reflex either the way it is with Starrk.

Of course, Starrk also understands "might is right" just by dint of being a Hollow, but he's basically spent a thousand years as someone too strong for anyone to fuck with just by existing, so he doesn't have the same kind of exposure to physical conflict that Ichigo grew up with that would make violence his first instinct.

Aanndd omg this ran away from me lmao sorry, you get a speedrun analysis on Starrk and Ichigo instead 😅

TLDR I'm still not sure of any exact scenarios that would force Starrk to show his hand, I don't want to wait until a Sternritter shows up or a final showdown vs. Aizen happens because that would take forever before we get there (I mean I could just jump right in there since this isn't a whole fic, but in-universe-timeline-wise, I'd prefer it happening earlier), but it's difficult for me to imagine that something in everyday life or even just a Hollow extermination mission would be enough to make him reveal even a bit of what he can really do.

Case in point, if you remember that mission in SP canon where Shunsui brings Ichigo and Rangiku along on a mission into the Rukongai to gain experience, and Ichigo sees a Hollow about to attack Shinji who hadn't spotted it yet, but he also didn't want to leave Rangiku unprotected, he went straight for unsealing his Zanpakutou and basically hand-delivering a shopping list of unusual or downright unique abilities to Aizen via Gin. In this AU, if Starrk goes along, he would never do such a thing, and in fact, he'd stop Ichigo and just fire a damn Byakurai or something across the clearing and kill it that way. Even if Ichigo doesn't have the finesse to pull off a low-numbered Kidou spell on the fly, he could've chosen a higher-numbered one and that would've still revealed far less to Aizen than unsealing his Zanpakutou would. But again, subtlety isn't his strong suit. He now at least has the presence of mind to think about the consequence of leaping into the fray without thought, it would leave Rangiku wide open, but his first instinct is still to use overwhelming strength to protect the people he cares about.

In contrast, Starrk may be a soft touch compared to basically every other Hollow and quite a few Shinigami, but he has the maturity and just the general personality to go for the strategic option. He has a far more tactical mind, implied even in canon to rival Shunsui in that department, so rushing in just isn't in his nature.

The only other way imo is if someone just... asks. Reikaku (reiatsu-sensing) is a thing Shinigami learn. In canon people can sense exactly who's coming just by their reiatsu (if they know them), not just if they're a Shinigami or a Hollow or even a Human, but it doesn't really expand on how. So I imagine you have to have a good feel for the person's reiatsu, it's the same as my age headcanon for reiatsu, not only can someone halfway decent at sensing reiatsu be able to get an idea of the other person's age, they would also be able to recognize and associate that reiatsu signature with that person since everybody's is different, but obviously they would have to be exposed to it a few times to learn it. Starrk's reiatsu is very unique so once or twice would be enough, and I can see a situation where the kids might ask to feel it for that reason, or a mission might require the team leader to ask, etc. etc. So yeah, that's all I got.

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') ��� <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[whosthere54]

So I want to talk about Icarus’s death again cause. Yeah I watched the finale again.

I’m sure I talked about it before but. Cause I’m writing stuff with the mindset they hold the episodes leading up to and then their death I’m just. Thinking about it. Enjoy incoherent rambling I’m tired.

So just. One. Icarus knew they were going to die. The wound was something they knew couldn’t be fixed. They knew since Momboo, maybe even before. There’s just that sense throughout the final episodes is just. They know. And they knew they weren’t done yet, and they knew they might not make it out to see the end of it alive.

Then they did, they saw the end. They killed Fable.

And there’s two ways I can take that. One. Fable is dead and they have no more direction. It’s their fault. They just killed their dad. The one person who was there through that- who *stayed*. They have no one telling them (straightforward or otherwise) what they should be doing anymore- what is considered to be the right thing for them to do. They have no guidance. Their lost- and their alone again, because of course they are. Icarus was always meant to die alone.

Two. Fable is dead! There’s nobody trying to get them to do something in a way that they want it done. Their not “being controlled” anymore. They can do what they want to- to fix it. Their death is them taking that control back. Their going to die anyways, right? Quixis and the wack had been effecting their life for so long- controlling what they do. Making them feel like they need to isolate so they don’t hurt anyone, making them have no sense of stability in items and even pets because hey they all change! Nothing stays the same!

They get to choose, now. They get to choose. If the wack is killing them, why make it that? They choose to fall. They know they’re not going to survive. There’s in element of almost comfort in that. It’s their choice. Not Fable’s, not something they gave to do because of the wack harming others. (It’s harming them. And maybe that’s for the better, isn’t it?)

They fall. And they get to say it wasn’t Quixis or the wack that killed them. It was them. They did it. Icarus dies at sunset, able to stare out into the water before they go. When they fall, they can see the stars- and that’s more of the sky than the story of Icarus ever got to see before his death.

They get to fall. And it feels close enough to flight that they can’t tell the difference. They can spread their arms wide, and *laugh*. They got to see Rae and Centross before their death. They got to choose that.

Icarus dies at sunset.

And it’s their choice this time.

[agathawellbelovefanclub]

if i didn’t know better - Carry On Countdown 2024

Day one - Something Old

A/N: hoooooo baby i have NOT done a countdown since 2016 but ur girl. is struggling. so we must revive the hyperfixations

Desc: Simon is stuck grieving a mother he never knew, but an offer of comfort gives him some peace. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, daphne my beloved.

Closure was a tough thing to find in solitude. No matter how much Simon willed it, the world just would not stop spinning and give him a moment to breathe. It was one thing to be preoccupied with depression, on a couch, with every waking thought a battle to stay afloat and every dream a nightmare. It was another thing entirely to just feel nothing.

(Not nothing, if you were asking Baz. He could sense the grief in someone from streets away. If he caught Simon staring at a wall, consumed with ‘nothing’, he knew it was the consumption of trying to avoid thoughts of the life he could have lived. It was familiar; it was strange. Someone who had once been so visceral in his feelings, now a shell.)

The photo of Lucy Salisbury stayed in Simon’s wallet. White creases and sun damage were threatening her smile, but the urge to look at it and reconstruct what her voice would have sounded like, what her embrace felt like, were too strong for him to ignore it. That, and his thoughtless fidgeting, flicking the corner of the card in an unsteady rhythm.

Baz was soft about it. Perpetually nervous and treading on eggshells, Simon knew he wanted to say something. Stop damaging it. Stop hurting yourself. Come back, like you did before.

The best he could offer was an unwavering shadow. Grief had pushed them back to square one.

So it was surprising, but not unwelcome, when Daphne showed up at their front door with a bag of groceries. She smiled at Simon like she was excited to see him, and didn’t hesitate to hug him despite 2 days of sweat sticking to his skin.

“I’m intervening,” she said, a bit like a joke that wasn’t that funny. “Basilton isn’t too bad of a cook, but I know you prefer baking. He’s useless at baking. Can’t follow rules to save himself.”

The crease in the couch where Simon had been rotting was covered in crumbs and empty crisp packets. Baz usually encouraged him to clean up when he got home from work, but stubbornness had kicked in over the past couple of days. It was getting close to Simon’s birthday — a date marred by death, as far as he was concerned — and he’d been hoping to sleep through the week.

“It’s a mess, sorry,” Simon offered. It got him a dismissive wave.

“Darling I had 3 kids under 3 for a while,” Daphne chuckled. “I can handle some mess.”

She unloaded ingredients and began putting them away, making verbal notes about how their cupboards were arranged and doing her best to follow their order. When she corrected her placement of the flour from the top shelf to the bottom, Simon got a dull feeling in his stomach that they’d organised their pantry wrong.

“Sorry, lovely — I went on autopilot for a moment.” She followed most of what she said with a small laugh at herself. “I think you ought to sit at the counter and help me bake. I’ve not a clue how your oven works.”

So, Simon excused himself to the bathroom and changed his clothes, unable to look at himself as he applied new deodorant. When he came back out, the oven was on, and Daphne was tying up Baz’s apron around her waist.

“I figured it out! First win of the day!”

Simon imagined her with a pleated chef’s hat, just because he felt it fit, and took his assigned seat at the counter.

“I tried this at home with very little success,” she admitted, “but in my defence, there aren’t a lot of recipes for sour cherry cakes.”

His heart picked up a bit — through excitement or fear, he didn’t know.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“Well, we’ll see.” She assembled their stand mixer. “How are you, dear? Baz says you’re having a tough week.”

How was he supposed to answer that? “I’m okay,” came out before he considered whether he should be lying or not.

Daphne arched an eyebrow. Very Baz. “You’ve been through enough terrible things over the past few years to tell me that’s not true. But, if you don’t want to talk, I won’t make you.” She drummed the stand mixer. “I’ll make you a cake instead.”

She’d always had a way of speaking that was evident of her motherhood. The twins were little terrors, and on more than one occasion Simon had seen Daphne encouraging their harmless mischief. He thought they must have been the happiest kids alive, but then he’d not known many happy kids.

“Did you know Lucy Salisbury?” Simon asked. He wasn’t planning to.

Daphne paused, smiled, and sighed. “I did. She was sunshine embodied. A couple of years older than me at school.”

That was what everyone said. Always nice, always kind.

“She did, however, have a mischief streak. She got caught a couple of times, sneaking into the Enchanted Woods to smoke.” Daphne laughed fondly. “Everyone did, back then, but it was always funny to see them get dragged back through the gates. Lucy always looked so smug when she did, though we couldn’t tell if she was proud or stoned.”

This was new. Always perfect Lucy Salisbury, adored by everyone, an average misfit. Like Simon, to an extent.

“And she was a fiend for mystery. One time, we caught wind of a Normal having snuck into Watford and hiding in the catacombs. Oh, she was down there every night trying to catch the bastard. It turned out to be nothing but a rumour, but she was dedicated. And— that’s right — she had every copy of Nancy Drew. Figures! We used to borrow them from her. She got the whole girls dorm hooked.”

Nancy Drew. His mother, a snoop.

Daphne turned the mixer on and let her ingredients combine, glancing around the room while she geared up to say something. Simon wished she wouldn’t, whatever it was. He didn’t want to stop hearing about the person Lucy had been.

“Basilton isn’t my biological son,” she reminded him. “When I met him, he was tiny and moody and upset that his father had replaced his mum. It made sense, of course. A child can’t replace a parent so easily.” She sighed. “I love him so dearly. Always have. As far as I’m concerned, he’s always been one of my babies. I never wanted to replace Natasha, because that’s impossible.”

She gently nudged his hand.

“You are my son-in-law. I don’t care that you’re not married, or if you never get married, or whatever. I will never claim to be Lucy Salisbury. Even so, I still love you as my son.” Her eyes glossed over. “You’re easy to love, frankly. You make my baby happy. So, if you need anything, or if you forget that at any point, I want you to know you can call me. Show up at the house. Track me down, I don’t care. You’re our family.” She stroked his cheek and smeared a tear against his skin. “Lucy is so proud of you, I just know it. The two of you are so alike. She loves you. Always.”

Simon held her hand to his face, not ready for her to pull away. She didn’t. Not until he’d cried as much as he needed to and the stand mixer was turned off. Daphne rounded the kitchen counter and hugged him despite his grime.

“Are you sure you want another kid to worry about?” He asked.

“I’ve had enough kids to know that I can handle it.” She kissed his forehead. “As long as you can forgive me for giving you a subpar birthday cake.”

[afrsconp]

I'm pretty new to this fandom but I've seen a few posts here and there about Nigel being a bad guy. And I'm not saying he's perfect (he'd be boring if he was!) but I do think some of those posts aren't really considering why, within canon, he'd (re)act the way does.

A few arguments against Nigel I've seen:

Nigel pressured Isaac to move faster than what Isaac was comfortable with, and gaslit him to manipulate him into doing what he wanted.

I can understand the argument for this, but I just don't agree with it. Both of them contributed to the way things ended up, mostly due to lack of communication, which in turn was probably just one symptom of tons of other issues: their old-timey-ness, Isaac still processing being openly gay, both of them probably unused to being in a serious relationship (with a man or otherwise) where they genuinely loved/were attracted to the other party, the prospect of literal eternity together, the sheer length of time they'd pined over each other, the fact that Isaac was the cause of Nigel's death, etc etc etc.

So when people claim things like Nigel getting mad about the daybed = Nigel manipulating Isaac into proposing, it feels a little short sighted.

More than once, we see Nigel actively try to slow things down when he sees that Isaac is uncomfortable, only for Isaac to rush forward instead (to overcompensate for his own worries):

After the truth is revealed about Jenkins lying to both of them to keep them apart, and Isaac still tries to pretend there's no romantic feelings between them, Nigel is visibly upset but doesn't push the issue. He doesn't even try to get Isaac to admit what they both know (what everyone knows!) is the truth - he just hurries away and tries to hide how much Isaac's denial has hurt him.

After offering to let Isaac sleep in the shed when the mansion ghosts have to bunk up, Nigel starts avoiding Isaac. It's not a stretch to think that Nigel was embarrassed/upset at being rejected and decided to leave Isaac alone for a while, giving them both some space, and he only confronts Isaac again when he thinks the real reason he was rejected was that Isaac had been having an affair with Thor.

When they're under the mistletoe, Nigel quickly assures Isaac that they don't have to follow tradition and can just say goodnight - only for Isaac to insist that they kiss. So it's pretty understandable that Nigel gets upset when Isaac facepalms him instead. And not only that, Nigel tries again to back off - he sees that Isaac isn't ready and reluctantly ends the relationship. And again, it's Isaac who pushes things forward by going to find him later and kissing him for real. But kissing him without any explanation about why he was so hesitant to do it before, which only compounds their issues.

When Nigel is like, "we're really baby stepping this thing, aren't we?" after Isaac invites him to move into the mansion, he clearly wants to move into Isaac's room but readily accepts moving into the library instead. He doesn't argue or make a fuss about it.

When Nigel gets upset about the daybed and Isaac tells him that he isn't ready for cohabitation, Nigel again just accepts it. He's obviously disappointed, but he doesn't make any demands. It's Isaac who suddenly jumps straight to marriage, which is something that Nigel pretty clearly did not expect him to do at all.

Just the fact that Nigel waited for Isaac to make the first move, despite it being obvious to everyone that Isaac has had feelings for him for centuries. Nigel didn't force things and knew that Isaac had to accept it for himself before anything could happen between the two of them. And so he waited. FOR OVER 200 YEARS.

2. The liaison with Jenkins during The Respite

Look, this was 100% on Nigel and he shouldn't have done it (even if they were on a respite). But given what had just happened, I can understand why he did it. The love of his life had just shown him that he still wasn't ready, even after 250 years of waiting, so Nigel was upset and frustrated and Jenkins was right there and willing. So he did something stupid, which he later describes as "meaningless" anyway.

3. The lapdance from Jenkins at the stag do

First off, the lapdance wasn't his idea. It was Trevor's, and then Jenkins just ran with it. And yeah, it's clear that Nigel enjoyed it, but it's also clear that it meant nothing to him. It didn't make him have sudden feelings for Jenkins, or made him horny for Jenkins, or anything at all that affected his feelings for Isaac. In fact, he insisted that Isaac get a lapdance too, to prove that they were just "innocent fun". So when he later realized that Isaac's lapdance wasn't as meaningless for Isaac as his own was for him, he gets upset. And, once again, it's Isaac who pushes things further, by insisting that they should still get married despite both of them starting to have doubts.

In case it isn't clear, I'm not saying Isaac is the bad guy here. They're both a product of the time period they grew up in and talking things out isn't something either of them is used to doing.

4. Nigel blackmailing Hetty and Trevor

This one just ignores the fact that Nigel only blackmails them after Hetty sabotaged Nigel's tea party. And yes, inviting Hetty last was 100% an intentional slight, but it was a slight that would've stayed private. No one else would've been aware of it - not even Hetty, had Nancy not happened to mention that Nigel invited her first. That's a very different thing to Hetty publicly embarrassing Nigel by ensuring that his tea party failed.

In any case, Hetty won that little war (as she should have; she's the Lady of the House and I love her outmanoeuvring everyone to stay on top). And after she won, they both backed off. We see them being quite civil to each other after that, like during their double date and the wedding planning (up until the pre-nup thing, but more on that below).

5. Nigel getting upset about the pre-nup

This argument is just weird to me. Plenty of people in the modern day get upset about this kind of thing all the time, so Nigel getting upset about it seems perfectly understandable. It also wouldn't be surprising if Nigel was subconsciously worried that Hetty was still trying to break them up.

In general, I think that Nigel might just be really insecure. He might've been afraid that Isaac was only with him because it was convenient? And was kind of desperate for a solid indication that Isaac's feelings were as strong as his own. And when Isaac repeatedly backed off, those doubts just kept resurfacing, to the point where I don't think Nigel even thought about possible alternative reasons for Isaac's behavior. He just went straight to "he doesn't really want me, maybe he never wanted me". But he doesn't actually say any of this to Isaac, and Isaac never actually tells him about Beatrice or why he's getting cold feet (assuming that Isaac is even aware of the reasons himself!) - until they're already at the altar, in front of everyone, and about to exchange vows. Which is just about the worst possible timing there is.

[ravendruid]

3x4x5 - Week 1

This is part of the 3x4x5 Prompt List. One Tent

Eve scratched her head as the young Halfling set up the tent underneath the small canopy of trees they found by the trail. The precision with which Bree hoisted the canvas made her think it was not her first time doing it, although this was the first time they would use their tents.

“All done,” Bree said, dusting her hands. “Feel free to go in and claim your spot. I’m small enough that I’ll fit anywhere.” She offered to Eve with a smile. 

Eve crawled in through the opening at the front and set her backpack down on one side. The tent wasn't colossal, seeing it was meant for two people, but Eve knew it would easily fit both women and their belongings. She spread her bedroll on one side and grabbed a bundle of clothes from her backpack as a pillow.

Bree joined her not long after, spreading her bedroll next to Eve and setting her backpack at the top, by where her head would be, and just like Eve, she also grabbed a bundle of cloaks to use as a pillow. She then laid down, wishing Eve goodnight, knowing that Bree had agreed to take the second watch. Surprisingly, it didn't take long until the Halfling fell into a deep sleep.

—

Eve wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep – she gathered it hadn’t even been an entire hour from how exhausted she felt – when she heard low groans of distress by her side. She thought nothing of it at first, as Bree would sometimes talk in her sleep, but it wasn’t until the girl shot upright with a scream that Eve knew it was concerning.

Bree was panting hard, and Eve noticed her shoulders had started shaking as she brought her knees to her chest and rolled into a ball. Worried, Eve sat on her bedroll and placed a hand between Bree’s shoulder blades.

Are you okay?” She spoke in a soft voice. Bree shook her head, small strands of hair coming out of her messy braid. “Come here,” Eve pulled her into her lap, resting the girl’s head on her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her. A familiar feeling rushed to her, something she hadn’t felt in months, as Bree fit in perfectly where once another girl had belonged. 

It’s alright, dear. You’re safe.” Eve reassured her in a whisper, rubbing the girl’s back affectionately. She willed her tears down, swallowing the tight knot in her throat at how much she missed this, how much she wished it was a different little girl in her lap, how much she missed the sweet smell of her daughter’s hair.

[flareboi]

what if purple never calls him dad

[girl-drink-drunk]

the best part of the simon and hecubus bits is that hecubus seems to actually be a demon of some kind, with actual powers, and he chooses to be the manservant of a two-bit hypnotist who's not even good at his job and gets genuine glee out of doing the shows