#SLASHES PLEEEEASE

[spoiledbutkindaawayne]

...Bruce, I love you, but you're not an alpha...

@brucie-wayne-official

Easiest way to describe abo (or alpha beta omega) is… think the debunked wolf pack dynamics theory and make it gender-Abo anon

Oh, like alphas and stuff!!!...... I think Im an alpha >:-)

[fossilizedhysterics]

sanders art dump bc people seemed to like the forever weed post 🫶 mostly just funnies i like never draw serious shit

[harmeu]

HOW DO THEY REACT WHEN YOUR HURT?

(GN!READER)

(Aventurine, Scar, Dion Agriche, Kishibe)

TW: Bruises, Scars, Wounds, Blood

AVENTURINE:

Aventurine is known for his eccentric personality for sure. He’s done well when asking others to join him but when it comes to actually connecting with others it falls flat due to his personality. You were an exception though! His beautiful lover.

So finding out you were hurt was not the best. It was a bruise you had gotten on your arm from somebody bumping into you by ‘accident.’ Well no not an accident but you weren’t going to tell Aventurine you had gotten into a fight! You know that would drive him into insanity.

“Oh dear? What's that on your arm?” He asked with his usual sardonic smile faltering at the sight of his beloved hurt. He took his hand out rubbing the bruise in delicate circles.

“Somebody bumped into me by accident.” You said averting your gaze as guilt filled you. 

Aventurine didn’t buy it and you knew as soon as his gaze darkened and his smile became more pointed and defined.

“Lies darling.” He said chuckling and kissed your bruise leaving the house.

All we know is that guy who hurt you was never seen again.

SCAR:

Scar is a manipulative asshole and sometimes you wonder how two different individuals like you two ended up dating. Hell, you loved the guy but sometimes you had to take double takes on his decisions. You loved him and he was obsessed. You could tell by the far lengths he went for you. Even if they weren’t good things.

You had gotten hit badly in a fight. A gash was literally bleeding through the stomach of your shirt. It reminded you of all the scars Scar had. Funny and ironic. Though you knew you had to patch yourself up and cover it before your boyfriend saw or who knows what would happen to the guy who hurt you?

Sadly you didn’t know Scar was home early and found you bleeding. He halted in his steps, eyes widened and staring blankly.

“Scar.?” You murmured out a reply PRAYING that he wouldn’t do anything over the top.

“Who hurt you?” His cunning smile returned as he stroked your scar sending small shockwaves of pain throughout you but you mumbled out an excuse.

“Nobody. Some..vines! Yeah vines. Pointy and thorny stuff.” Bullshit. As if he’d believe that.

“As if darling. Can you pleeeease tell me the guy I need to kill? Ooh! No, no wait! Torture and then kill! Ohhh wait wait. Burn him alive.” He smiled after his words, making you pale.

“No no no! That’s not needed!” You frantically said but Scar was already out the door hunting for the person.

DION AGRICHE:

Dion’s a sociopath. Nicest way to put it! Doesn’t show emotion at all and kills without a second thought. The Agriches were known for their ruthless nature so you should’ve been aware of that. But no one could get used to the sight of bloody bodies as a regular person. It was definitely not on your bucket list to date him but it happened! Right after you caught him smelling flowers. Now that tugged on your heart strings.

Would that excuse his actions? Fuck no. But did you love him? Yes. And so did he surprisingly.

Blood was on your palm after getting slashed by one of those who tried to assassinate the Agriche’s. After they found out your connection to him of course people would try and kill you. You managed to run out of there and make it back to the estate with soft pants.

You didn’t expect to find Dion staring dead in the eye at you, his red pupils dilating as he saw you bleed. You wondered if it reminded him of all the bloodshed he went through.

“You're bleeding.” He stated with a monotone voice.

“A bit yeah.” You forced a smile. “Just those regular guys who keep wanting to assassinate the Agriches..” A soft chuckle left your lips.

“Go to the healer.” He said with the same tone before leaving in the same direction where you got slashed at.

KISHIBE:

Kishibe is a on sight man to put it in simple words. Straightforward and hella strong. It was a surprise you ended up dating him since he was hung up on some lady that rejected him several times because she liked women. Were you just a rebound? You thought at times but those thoughts always vanished when Kishibe brought you little things. Like food, bracelets, and soft kisses. 

He had a tough guy look and definitely was one on the inside after seeing him fight but he did hold affection for you. 

Deeply.

A devil had managed to hit a bad hit on your back making you have to clutch the wall for support and limp back to base trying not to collapse in pain.

As you reached the base you found your lover staring at you with dead eyes. 

You know what those meant.

“Just..a devil.” You murmured out embarrassed since Kishibe was beyond strong and could beat a devil in a blink of an eye. Yet here you are bleeding out. “Sorry.”

Kishibe walked over to you and stared at your wound handing you bandages.

“I’ll be back. I need to release some stress.”

“Wait..” You know what that meant.

“Soon.” He left through the door dragging a huge weapon with him.

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 236: Go South—JJK is generational

Gosh. Can we pleeeease just like... have a moment of silence for the one and only...THE Man, Gojo Satoru.

Ok, time's up.

Moving on.

Word vomit under the cut.

The process of reading this chapter was a very interesting one this week because the fandom got really noisy as soon as the leaks dropped.

Between allegations of bad writing and the utter sense of grief Gojo fans were expressing, it was quite the 💩 storm.

And then the actual scanlations started dropping, and little by little they replaced most of the noise with the utter sense of calm and peace and satisfaction that Gojo felt in his last moments in this plane of existence.

I gotta say that I just absolutely loved how Gege depicted those emotions (outside of Gojo's "dream") through shots of the devastated Shinjuku district.

The remnants of the battle of The Strongest, as if the landscape and the buildings themselves represented the end of an era, the devastation of the structure of Jujutsu society itself.

After all, as The Strongest sorcerer in the modern era, Gojo represented the very system he was trying to destroy.

Gege loves his irony.

Now, I would normally say that the words in the speech bubbles are superfluous because Gege creates such a beautiful atmosphere through the setting alone. But it is the words themselves that re-contextualize not just the battle, but also shed more light on Sukuna's interest in Megumi, which I feel we haven't seen the extent of what he had in mind.

Now I'm hoping this isn't a dream

Listen, I must admit I've never cared for Gojo.

I don't hate him, I don't love him, I simply never really cared for him.

That, of course, changed with this chapter.

And it is perhaps Gojo's death that really solidified in my mind the idea that one of the underlying themes in jjk is... dun dun dun... DEATH.

Yeah, I know. Sue me, I'm late to the party lmao.

But it's not just death itself that is a theme, but rather the face we put on when death comes knocking at the door.

There aren't many things that we can be certain of in this life, but death is one of them. So how we confront death and our mortality shapes the sense of self.

I know a lot of people were dissatisfied with the transition from 235 to 236 and Gege not showing how/when Gojo got slashed in half, but I find the abrupt transition makes sense, and I even dare say was... quite poetic.

For one, now knowing that Gojo knew Sukuna was holding back, a lot of incidents throughout the battle are given new meaning. Like that look of confidence on Gojo's face as he "thinks" he's finally managed to "get through" to Sukuna.

So I have to say that I loved that Gege starts the chapter with Gojo becoming aware that he has died or is dying.

In other words, Sukuna's attack was so sudden that Gojo's next moment of awareness as "Gojo Satoru" is in what we would normally think of as "the light at the end of the tunnel" where he is greeted by people who were of significance to him in his youth.

And can we please just talk about how Geto is the first person he sees when he becomes aware that he is dying?

Please. This is fucking poetry!

Insert keyboard smash.

Screaming in jjk.

Go South

I literally lack the words to explain why I love this whole chapter so much. Which is a lot to say because I am about to word vomit about it. But like...

Again, hindsight is 20/20.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto's disappointment had more to do with Gojo's sense of self over-identifying with the title "the strongest" and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I'll come back to this in a sec.

But first...

Quick depth psych segway. I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There's nothing wrong with ego per se.

The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

On the other hand, soul/heart (another organ in the psyche) is the principle of relatedness--love, the single energy that can bring us all together as a collective.

But as we already know, the stronger the sorcerer, the more overwhelming the sense of self.

Unfortunately, because an overwhelming sense of self = separateness, this also means the person in question can't relate to others.

And is this not thematically perfect for a sorcerer whose perfected cursed technique was meant to render others unable to "reach him"?

In other words, Gojo saw himself as separate (because he was "The Strongest") and that made it harder for him to relate to others, but only because he self-identified as "The Strongest".

Infinity ∞, in this sense, is also about the self-fulfilling prophecy Gojo was stuck playing out in his life in regards to seeing himself as "The Strongest".

But like a serpent eating its own tail, Gojo came back full circle, and in the moments before his death, learned that what really mattered to him was not strength for the sake of strength, but rather the connections he had fostered with others.

PLEASE. GEGE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!!!!!!!!!!!

To bring it back to "Satoru became 'The Strongest'"...

I just loved so much that seeing Geto as soon as he becomes aware he's died felt like an encounter that meant Gojo had returned to the person he was before he self-identified as "The Strongest".

But more importantly, Gojo's imagination of himself as back when he was young also speaks both to how much he cherished that period of his life, and to how he was emotionally frozen in time due to his encounter with Toji.

It makes me wonder whether Gojo was afraid of dying alone when Toji almost killed him. So it's almost like what he took away from that battle was that he was always alone, and so he sought to push others away.

The kicker is that he simultaneously feared his existential isolation and yet craved the very source of his fear--human relations.

But in choosing self-preservation, he was a selfish to the very end.

What an idiot (tragically affectionate).

Anyways. How much of this is hc? Someone tell me please 😂. I feel like I went off the deep end in the last few paragraphs.

Like everyone else in this fandom I've lost all objectivity when it comes to Gojo because his departure from the story was truly one of the most heartbreaking moments in jjk.

I understand people's complaints about the "execution," but I think the world-wide phenomena that Gojo's death has spurred speaks to Gege's ability to elicit deeply archetypal emotional responses as a story teller.

With Gojo's death, a part of our own psyche too has died. And what's most significant about this death is that it was, true to Gojo's character, "something that needed to die because it represented the very thing it sought to destroy."

And this would be why I love Gege's writing.

A fitting way for Gojo to go out

I know not everyone agrees, but I really appreciated that he was satisfied and at peace in the very end.

He got his cake (battle to death with Sukuna) and got to eat it too (reconnected with his loved ones).

Sukuna

But we can't talk about Gojo without talking about Sukuna as the one who liberated Gojo from the burden of his existential isolation.

Sukuna gave Gojo a fun battle, but if it weren't because Sukuna figured out how to cut through Gojo's metaphorical defenses by learning to cut through space-time itself--the very fabric of reality, Gojo might not have found his humanity once again.

The outcome of this battle spells out in no uncertain terms how dire the situation is as Sukuna has proven himself to be the uncontested "Strongest".

But in a sense, the end is a new beginning, and this time, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

JJK is generational

I get the feeling that everyone will remember where they were when this panel dropped.

I was in bed. It was 6 am and Tasokare, my miniature panther, was demanding attention.

A moot was on the way to the gym. They never made it out of the house after seeing the panel.

Another moot was completely avoiding Twitter to avoid leaks, but her brother, who does not even read jjk, saw the panel on Facebook and showed it to her.

Yet another moot was on vacation at the beach.

JJK is generational like that and there's just so much more I can say about this chapter and its implications (like the idea that Sukuna can now cut through space-time, why?! what does he want to get out of this ability?), but I just don't even know what more I can say right now.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I'm looking forward to any thoughts you might have. Just a heads up, I'm very, very slow at replying.

[moonselune]

Sorceress tav riding on karlach's back flinging spells and defensive magic while their lovely lady teddy bear hacks and slashes

So so so so so cute I wish Larian would let this be an option in combat

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach x Sorceress!reader | Deadly duo

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Babe, please this is the perfect chance-"

"-Karlach no, it's ridiculous,"

"-But babe pleeeease!" Karlach whined, pouting and kicking the blood soaked dirt beneath them. You had rolled your ankle and you needed to get across the battlefield, however there were still an abundance of goblin scouts out there, that despite being goblins, would even manage to pick you off eventually. Then there were the worgs and the- and the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised Karlach's idea.

"Fine."

Mounted on Karlach's broad, muscular back, you held onto her tightly with one arm wrapped around her neck, your other hand free to weave intricate spells and cast defensive wards. Karlach's skin was hot beneath your touch, but you had long since grown accustomed to the heat, finding comfort in the warmth that radiated from her.

"Hold on tight, love!" Karlach's voice boomed over the din of battle, her tone laced with excitement and determination. She surged forward with the ferocity of a charging bull, her massive greatsword cleaving through enemies like they were made of parchment. Each swing of her blade was precise and devastating, her strength unmatched as she carved a path through the opposition.

As she fought, you kept a keen eye on your surroundings, your mind attuned to the ebb and flow of the battle. A group of goblin scouts aimed their bows in your direction, and with a swift incantation, you conjured a shimmering shield of magical energy that deflected their arrows straight back to the source, taking them out in one blow.

"Nice one, babe!" Karlach called out, her appreciation evident even as she continued to hack through the enemy ranks.

"Focus, my love," you replied with a playful grin, "there's plenty more where that came from."

A goblin warlock stepped forward, chanting a spell with dark intent. You responded in kind, your voice ringing out with authority as you unleashed a bolt of lightning that struck the mage square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground, lifeless.

Karlach let out a hearty laugh, the sound a mixture of exhilaration and pride. "That's my girl!"

You couldn't help but smile at her praise, your heart swelling with love. The two of you were a force of nature, unstoppable and unyielding. You channeled your magic into Karlach, casting a spell that enhanced her already formidable strength and speed. She roared with renewed vigor, her attacks becoming even more deadly as she tore through the enemy lines. When a particularly large and menacing ogre stepped into your path, Karlach barely hesitated.

"This one's mine," she growled, gripping her battle-axe with both hands. You held on tight, and shut your eyes, anticipating the gore that was soon to follow, and soon to decorate you. As expected Karlach and yourself were coated in blood as Karlach leapt and swung her battle-axe across its neck. Karlach roared with strength and carried forward and you wiped the blood from your eyes, a light laugh leaving your lips as you held on for dear life now.

As the battle raged on, you and Karlach continued to fight as one, at one point, surrounded by enemies, Karlach dropped to one knee, giving you a stable platform from which to cast a devastating spell. You raised your hand high, chanting the incantation with power and precision. A massive explosion of arcane energy erupted from your palm, engulfing the surrounding foes in a brilliant display of light and force. When the dust settled, the area around you was clear, the enemies either defeated or fleeing in terror.

Karlach stood, grinning up at you with fierce pride. "Impressive, as always."

You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. "And you, my fierce warrior, are incredible."

The battle began to wind down, the remaining enemies either retreating or surrendering. You and Karlach stood amidst the aftermath, breathless and exhilarated. You slid off her back, your legs a bit unsteady from the adrenaline and exertion, your ankle still throbbing. Karlach caught you, her strong arms pulling you close.

"So, you have to admit that it was a pretty great idea," She murmered, a cheeky grin spreading across her lips.

"Okay, okay, it was perhaps quite a good idea," You smiled, resting your forehead against hers. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

"The best," she agreed, her eyes shining with love and admiration. "Now, let's get back to camp and get you healed up."

You nodded, allowing her to pick you back up, this time cradled in her arms, bridle style. On the way back Karlach raved about your shared performance, you looked up at her, love in your eyes and smiled, nodding along with her, perhaps you two would do that again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[skylathescholarly]

All right, I need recs! Give me your best Batfamily recs pleeeease? I'm an angst or hurt/comfort reader primarily, but I enjoy crack fics and fluff, but I don't read slash. Background romance only if possible 😊

I'm a sucker for a kidnapping of any kind, Tim Drake whump is my usual favorite (I enjoy all iterations of Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake) but I love and will read all characters. I prefer Good Parent Bruce Wayne but I'll still read ones where he's a little sucky.

I'd be eternally grateful if you'd send me your favorites!!

[slashthrashandcrash]

Slasher Ashley x Final Girl Stranger? Thoughts? Prayers?

Funniest part would be the fact that slasher zombie Ashley could probably fold Slasher Stranger in half. She's a scholarship athlete and he was... what? A STEM major or some shit?

I need more lore to hyperfixate on, slash. Pleeeease. (Only if you feel like it though, no pressure.)

OUGH the concept...immaculate...especially because I'm still envisioning them as their usual personalities, so for Ashley to go from a bubbly sweetheart to a murderous stalker is delicious for angst

Because originally, Stranger was killed in a hazing accident whose death was then completely covered up by the school, which is way he came back for revenge. But Ashley? She'd be much more popular being a cheerleader and all her sorority sisters' best friend (well, most of 'em).

I feel like as a woman I probably don't need to go into too much detail about what her incident would be with drunk frat boys and maybe a few jealous mean girls at a house party. And rather than it be covered it, they'd probably all just blame her for her own death while the ones involved lose a few scholarship rewards. She shouldn't been drinking, she was flirty, she couldn't didn't say no, they didn't realized she had stopped breathing--

Yeah, all that kindness and sweetness in her died that night. She's coming back and she's coming back pissed. Kind of like Spirit from DBD, to just be so full of pain and rage about the injustice, to never know peace. Except for this one stranger in the frat house that night, who was just so polite and respectful and a little nervous in a cute way. Made sure she was okay, told her to be careful around the other guys, offered walk her back to her room though she declined.

And that is also objectively hilarious for him to be the final guy of the initial massacre and then her recurring obsession, because he's just...I dunno, him. Sure, he's got the "tall dark kinda handsome" thing going on, but he's such a dweeb. He's the guy that has at least 5 spots on the top 10 high scores on any given arcade cabinet. He's a compsci major. He's not a jock, he can't flirt with a girl to save his life, he's the lowest on the food chain in his fraternity (well...he was until Ashley butchered most of them).

So to have this beautiful girl be so head over heels for him that she'd kill anyone who gets in her way...idk he might be kind of into it lmao. Like, she pins him against the wall and his knees tremble. She tries to come onto him and he averts his eyes and stutters something. But he'd also feel so sorry for her, knowing who she is and what happened and how he wished he could have tried a little harder to convince her to go home instead of letting his awkwardness stop him. Which also further endears him to her, he's so compassionate! C'mon, babe, ignore the blood, we can make this work!

[jacksoneblackburn]

My parentage is changing.

A fanfic of my own character that kinda goes into the lore of my character, altering the story to where they have multiple personalities inspired by the schizophrenic episodes of the Greco-Roman gods (and ofc @bright-side-of-the-moon)

Chapter 1: Will loses track of a patient.

IT WAS A DAY LIKE NO OTHER.

I was doing rounds- checking I was stocked on bandages, my list of patients with allergies, my medicine was stocked, I had plenty nectar and ambrosia, watering my sunflower given to me as a welcome gift by Will Solace when I got claimed, playing my morning playlist of Conan Gray, Olivia Rodrigo, Em Beihold, Claire Rosinkranz, Camilla Cabello- the usual.

Until I get interrupted by a knock on my office door.

I stop playing my music and head to the door, opening it with slight annoyance.

"Yeah? Who is it-"

"Hey, sorry Jacks, I know you're doing rounds but... we have a medical emergency in cabin 3," The person said. It was my freckled, suntanned, tall, blond brother. Will Solace. He was never good at telling me when there was medical emergencies. Especially during the morning.

"I can't help them," I sigh. "I was just about to reorganize my files in alphabetical order again-"

"Well- I- uhh- As Head Counselor slash Medic, I demand you go check on your patient!" He said, puffing out his chest and pointing a finger in the air.

I just stared at him for a while.

"It's been a week and you're pulling that card on me?"

"Just go down-"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"Hmm.... no."

"I'll give you unlimited access to all patient files."

"Where's the camper?" I throw on my lab coat.

"New that would getcha."

"I need blackmail on the Stoll brothers, I take wins where I can get them." I adjust something slightly out of place on my coat then walk past Will.

Will shrugs. "Fair enough."

We walk towards the strawberry fields, making small talk on the way. You know, the usual.

"How many people died last week?" I ask nonchalantly, as if death doesn't bother me anymore.

"Surprisingly, one," Will says while stepping over a mushroom that looked like it was on the verge of exploding. "He fell off of the rock climbing wall."

"Was he drunk?"

"Nope."

"Was he wearing any safety gear?"

"Also, nope."

"Well no duh, it's written on a giant sign to wear the proper equipment with supervision if you want to climb on the wall," I hop over a loose root in the ground. "It's literally the number one rule."

"It was an Ares kid."

"Okay, that makes much more sense."

We make it to the fields, with no one to be seen. Nobody. Anywhere, no matter where you looked. Not a single Satyr, bug, or demigod.

"Uh... Will?" I turn to him and bat my eyes. "Where's. The. Damn. Patient."

"How should I know?!"

"YOU'RE THE HEAD MEDIC. THAT'S YOUR JOB."

"NUH-UH- wait, no. You actually have a point. Am I gonna get fired?" Will was panicking, I was pissed, and we have a missing (probably dying, let's be honest) patient that's nowhere to be seen. "Oh gods, what do I tell Nico?!-"

"Calm down. You find that patient, before Chiron and Mr. D have your practicing license for a month. I'll go ask any nearby campers if they seen anyone..." I pause for a moment. "What did you say this patient looked like again?"

"I- uh.... Girl, very pretty, smelled like-"

"Let me remind you, you have a boyfriend that I know very well."

"Shut up," Will's face taking on the same hue of the strawberry milk served at lunch. "As I was saying, she was a daughter of Aphrodite. She was supposedly having a heat stroke-"

"Why would a child of Aphrodite be all the way out here in the Strawberry fields?" I interrupt. "Sorry, my bad. Please continue."

"-That caused her to pass out," Will continued, albeit, very annoyed. "She was saying something about needing water, and a Cabin Three kid went to the lake to purify some water for her to drink."

"That all?"

"No, she passed out and... well... You know the story from there."

I hum in thought. Being the gremlin I am, I walk away back to my office. "If she's not here, that means she's okay, or someone else is already treating her. Now about those medical documents-"

"What." Will said incredulously. "Not even gonna look for her?- What if there's a dead camper on my hands, and you just walk away?"

I nod. "Pretty much, yeah."

Will stares at me, dumbfounded and slowly getting more and more pissed off. "You're a terrible medic."

"If there's no patient to treat, there's no problem to meet." Ignoring Will's comment, I continue walking away. "I need to finish my rounds."

"You're fired."

I stop dead in my tracks, slowly turning around. "What?"

"You. Are. Fired"

"Y-you can't fire me?!" I walk up to him. "Only-"

"I don't care. Go to the Hermes cabin. And stay there. You're license is officially revoked."

"W-what..." I mumble, terrified. "Y-you can't do this to me- you're taking away my entire purpose-"

"That's the point," He folded his arms, towering over me, the damn Texan. "Get out my damn sight before I do something I regret."

"B-but my documents... My patients- You- you can't do this to me!"

"You are dismissed."

I felt the tension build up in my chest. My grip on my reality slipping away. The tears welling up in my eyes, burning hotter than any of the forges in Cabin 9. My breath became warm, my throat closing up and becoming dry as the tears fall off of my cheeks like rain. My nose and cheeks redder than any strawberry in the field.

I grip onto Will's shirt, falling to my knees and crying into Will's shirt. "P-please W-Will.... D-don't do this...." I sob.

"You have till the Harpies come out to move." Will said coldly, walking past me. Muttering and mumbling to himself to calm himself down as I slowly fall to the floor. Curling into a ball and clutching my stomach as my tears turn the dirt underneath my face slowly turning to mud with my tears.

So that was chapter 1 !!

Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed!

A like would be greatly appreciated because it really supports me (you don't have to if you don't want to) :]

[lxnleybatbxy]

💛

To Solanine, because I crazily miss him.

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜

[🤭🤭🤭]

@the-raven-dhampir —-xx

Solanine pouted his lip and just kept looking up at his lover with bug doed eyes, he really wanted Raven to dress up with him and go out on a fun little date. “Please, pleeeease~!” He couldn’t help but smirk as he leaned up and planted kisses along the other jawline and neck.

“It’ll be fun, I’ll even let you pick my outfit. Dress me up as your doll~” He gave a little wink. “It’s a new underground bar slash night club kind of thing.”

[lettersfrombeyondthegrave]

They're literally like the best thing ever

The black parade is one of the best albums of the 2000s no joke slash super serious like

They're SO important for the scene of those years

If you wanna play the albums in chronological order, the first album is kinda rough and not super refined (and was also recorded all in a week in a basement, so), second album is SOOOO sosososo important for "Emos" and that part of the scene, third album, black parade, no notes simply amazing and fourth album personally also love, so fun, soung a bit different some people got a problem with that, it depends

But pleeeease start listening to them the fandom is insane but it's because we know this music is just chef kiss

Personally I discovered them in order of: Black parade, Three cheers, Danger days, I brought you my bullets

Long live? After the black parade is dead? We're resurrecting the black parade like Jesus on Easter?

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[hermannsthumb]

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

---------------------

Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate. 

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections. 

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard. 

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.

[daddy-ul]

well, i was the anon talking abt fics... i'm interested in yours 👁 can you link them so i can read? pleeeease 🥺

btw i love your blog, you're so funny and kind. 🥰

an anon reveal, gasp!

hfjdkfsjf kidding.

I absolutely love your met blog, too *mutual fistbump* I'll put the links under the cut, feel free to browse around and try to find something of your interest.

My tallifics are both on AO3 and RockFic

I write gen and slash (only james/lars, sorry eheh). I love all my fics, but if i can suggest you one to read quickly and kinda grasp how and what I write... I would go with One Good Thing.

(I mean,, what did you expect from this blog? fjkdfhjdsf but dont worry, I dont write only abt Lars)

[flyingfoxwriter]

When a chance is taken, it should be taken seriously.

And that was what it did. No holdbacks, no diversions; it would not let go or let it evade its grasp. As soon as he glared into her perturbed eyes with malice, he redirected his attention to the one that really mattered.

It was time he made that ghost disappear for good.

With a deep snarl, he swung his left limb again. For it was nothing like a limb anymore, but an amalgamation of sharp threads of flares of many hues, that twisted and convulsed in a form similar to a whip. If the blazing sparks failed to tear the ghost in half, the very physical and sharp shards of the shredded metallic prosthetic would do the job.

Even so, Lewis was frozen. Very much like in the moments in which he had forced Arthur into a cowering position, he could only stare up and watch with a haunted expression on his skull. Though, not because he feared for himself; but for what could still be behind those three bloodthirsty demonic eyes over him.

The whip came down, with a deafening crack. However, only small sparks brushed him.

With a ghostly wheeze, he struggled to let out what could have been a sigh. He shivered, another shadow blocking the view of what had become his enemy.

Vivi trembled, bat in her left hand, now leaned sideways after a fast swing. Arthur, or something that with every moment looked less like him, stepped back. She had moved, in instinct, and had batted off the whiplash as it came down. Somehow, even while contemplating the sight of her friend in such state, she had found herself moving in between.

And she did not know why.

“Arthur, what-“

“This is not how you are supposed to play the game, Viv.” Another leer, this time less amused. Arthur took again the step he recoiled, the big fleshy eye on his chest seeming to pulse to a bigger size. “Now, why don’t you go and gobble up something with that mutt, or sleep off everything in that rusty van, while your old pal Artie takes care of everything around, you airhead?!”

It was obvious before, but with those words she truly knew Arthur did not have the slightest bit of conscience or control right now. Another thing did.

“What are you.”

Arthur let out a groan, seemingly tired of her inquisitive glare.

“Pleeeease… Just-“ Fast as lighting, his stance changed and moved; his right claw swiped and shoved her to a side. “Forget it!”

Lewis let out a ghostly yell as she hit the ground, the bat falling from her hand as she clasped her wound with a hiss. He would have dashed for her, if not for his persistent attacker.

“Just forget, yes!” The whip swung down again, but this time Lewis reacted. The sparks rushed around his hands as he clenched them around the flow, his own fire rising as Arthur glared at him. “It’s not like you lived to the name! Mystery skulls, for fucks sake. Skulls. Plural, not singular. We have to fix that.”

Lewis growled and stood, yanking on the multicolored threads. And still they only seemed to elongate and bend to the thing’s whim, as it whispered again, piercing him with its hateful eyes.

“One at a time.”

Those eyes, which once had been caring, joyful, supportive, even if nervous, now twitched hauntingly sideways, murderously. To her, a hint for him.

He would not allow it, not even with the guilt he now carried in his heart.

Arthur gasped when the ghost moved next, surprised to see his expression twist into one of determination; Lewis yanked again, but this time clasping some of the metallic shards that hanged around the flow. With that physical grasp, he swung like he had done.

“Shit!”

Though possessed and mutated, he was still, overall, much smaller than the ghost. He huffed as he hit his back against the ground, his clothes now even more torn. But that did not mean he just rested there and waited for Lewis to get a hold of him, like when he crashed the van.

With a swift swing of legs, he dashed to his feet; then, he flared up his hues. Caught by surprise by that unnatural recovery, Lewis soon found those threads cutting through his body, right below his ribs.

Like a shotgun did, his ghostly form seemed to fade, torn. It was enough to make him step away, startled.

“Maybe I should have let you get a hold, Lew.” Lewis hated to hear him say his name like that, and not because he resented Arthur. In fact, he wished nothing more than be able to see his real self, and not the thing that was sticking its sharp tongue at him in a hateful manner. “I know you want to finish the job.”

That jab made the ghost recoil again, just as he had raised a flaming fist. There was the guilt, the horrible contemplation. It allowed Arthur to lunge again and easily cut Lewis’ shoulder this time, with not much more resistance than a jolt.

No, there was barely anything Lewis could do, that he could bring himself to do. He would raise his fist, only to falter as it neared his face. His fire would tangle with that deadly flow, but set back anytime it brushed that black and green skin. Under that twisted stance and sickly expression, he could still see him, buried deep within.

He could do nothing but take the persistent lashing.

And as the ghost crumbled under it, another shook as much, even if with a different kind of pain.

Vivi sat up slightly, one of her hands sunk deep into her hair. Her head was aching, yet not for the hit against the ground.

Lew.

The word seemed so familiar, so painfully recognizable yet unheard of.

In between the sound of lashing and ghostly gasps, something echoed too in her mind. A whisper at first, an echo next, until she could not hear anything but a cacophony of undistinguishable screams, from which she could not understand a thing.

Her eyes lidded, a hue she could not see over them. Slowly, she glanced back to the two figures nearby. She could see clearly one of them, looming darkly over the other, rapidly lashing down. That second figure, it was now a simple blur, even if not small; as it collided with a wall, its outlines seemed to overflow, not only due to the ripping of those threads.

A flaming skull, skeletal ribs, ghostly ardor. Deep eyes, which seemed to be what most screamed for her to stare at.

It was only when that figure seemed to twist and change for a moment that the blur faded in her eyes.

Lewis tried once more to shield himself, raising one arm up as the sparks convulsed into a more straight shape, in order to impale.

“Arthur, please!” His desperation and guilt made him show his living self for a moment, the only thing that could show his agony more than his broken locket. “I’m sorry!”

Lewis.

“Idiot, I told you he can’t-!”

There was a loud thud. Before he could finish, something had slammed against his face, strongly. If the hit did not push him enough, it was the smoking ice that made him stumble.

Lewis shivered, quivered, much more than if that blazing multicolored blade had pierced through him. Right in front of him, was Vivi, holding her bat with no reluctance, her eyes narrowed with a fury he had rarely seen.

As it stood, the thing saw it too. While his claw held his bruised face, he stared mouth agape at her, some pink hues still in her eyes. But all fading.

“Get away from Lewis.”

Her stance was unmovable, and yet, there was the horrible shakiness, the terrifying realization. She looked over her shoulder, faintly, and met his ghostly eyes. It was enough for him to flicker again, involuntarily, the knowledge of her clarity sinking in.

She did not have time for heartbroken whispers or laments however.

“Agh, a third wheel again.” Arthur neared once more, leaning his body side to side, giving her a lean of head that showed how annoyed he was. His three eyes were impossibly open, his pulsing third seemingly tearing the skin on his chest. “Isn’t there a saying that goes: till death do us part?!”

“Arthur never broke us apart.” She glanced back at Lewis, her expression one of regret. “He didn’t.”

She could see it in Lewis’ eyes. As he stood slowly, his sockets seemed to narrow onto Arthur, with worry and hurt. He stood behind her, his posture one of dread, even if now firmer. There was no accident, no murder either. That day, their hearts broke in more than one sense, but not because of any concealed hatred they held, but another’s.

“I want to puke.” He hit the ground with a slash, clenching his claw with faked boredom. “Such care, love… May I remind you how you let him fall multiple floors into a dark basement, how you almost crushed him against a wall, how you shocked his prosthetic when you broke down his van, how you chased him with a freaking flaming truck, crashed his van and risked multiple concussions, hauled him into a space bending illusion, and then… killed him?”

Lewis snarled, taking one step closer.

“He’s not dead.”

Indeed, the hold of that thing had closed the wound, even if it had engulfed it with a monstrous eye.

“He very well is! I’m not letting go, darling. This, this is me now. And yet, it is still partly him, his heart clasped tightly under my fingers, nice and quiet when I want it. You don’t know how fucking exhausting is to sort through his senseless thoughts and-“

“Enough!”

Lewis said it, but she could very well have been the one to yell in anger. Arthur flinched and stopped rambling, because both dashed at him, one with flaming hands, and the other with an icy bat.

“Hey, hey! Now wait a-!”

They didn’t. Much like when he rushed at Lewis to take him out of the picture, both made him fall back. With a gasp, he recovered from her swing, yet had to move as two big hands tried to grab him down.

He rolled backwards and stood again, this time crouching and keeping both at a distance.

“You can’t hurt him!” He growled, pointing at them with a nailed finger. “The host still feels, you dumbasses!”

Vivi glared fiercely; giving him the same stance she gave Shiromori.

“Then why are you cowering? You feel it too, don’t you?!”

Lewis could see those sharp fangs clench in pain, its three eyes twitch in slight dread.

“They day I died, there was nothing like what I’m seeing now. You may have more control this time, but I’m going to make you regret holding on to it.”

“You fucking-“

Another hit of bat. He huffed as he bent, the icy surface pushing against his middle section, right below the bulging eye. Quickly, he raised his claw over her, intending to rip her neck to shreds. However, again, those fists moved. Instead of her throat, he clasped his claw around a big hand, which began to blaze.

With an undignified scream, he let go of the flaming knuckles. As he did, Lewis made sure to twirl her away, standing as a shield where she had been. Arthur tried to follow her sidestep, knowing she could do more harm than ghostly hesitant fire, but he did not have the chance.

A yelp escaped him when those two fists slammed on his sides, suddenly pressuring his two limbs against his torso. He tried to whip his left hues again, but could not take much drive, only getting some pained snarls from the ghost.

“Let go!”

“No you.”

“I said-!” He stopped, crying out instead. “Argh!”

She had not wasted time. Arthur felt the icy point of the bat, pressuring right on his back, right where the eye was on the other side; where his heart was being held painfully tight.

The smoking ice was coiling now over his torso, spreading around like ropes. The fire Lewis was invoking was not melting any, in fact it only seemed to tangle and fuse with it. It was not causing any wounds or bruises, yet it was still painful; all the more to the being that was unnaturally foreign, uninvited.

If they were not doing this out of care, it would be outright cold blooded torture. Not for him, but for it. As the coolness sunk into his flesh, so did the fire.

Green pulsing mist, the outlines of a hand, clasped tight around a feeble heart. So many hues bursting out of it, flowing through his flesh. Multiple wounds, in which those unphysical fingers sunk and clawed.

The coldness seeped into that unnatural hand. The fire, meanwhile, blazed over the wounds, burning, but only the thing that gripped them and kept them open. That purple fire made sure to keep the coldness away from the host, already having done enough harm before.

It was, overall, a fucking pain. For it.

Those three eyes were open wide, in agony and rage. They twisted around, looking at that furious looking skull, then over his shoulder to that outraged madwoman, then…

The mutt .

Lewis gasped, Vivi did too. Arthur seemed to stop struggling as much, convulsing instead under their grip. In seconds, the blackness and green hues on his skin seemed to fade. That claw shrunk. His body slumped slightly. The two eyes on his face rolled back, uncontrolled. Meanwhile, his chest shook the most.

The ghost squirmed and let go, because the eye in front of him suddenly blasted. Literally, in a mass of green and red; pulsing and enlarging; it broke apart. Green mist emanated from the mass as Arthur fell limply forward, still jolting.

In seconds, the hues that flowed out of his ripped arm faded, seemingly twisting back into his flesh. The shards of his metallic arm finally scattered on the ground, torn and unsalvageable.

Though fainted, battered and bruised, all seemed to fade back to normalcy. Human, skin, human like hand, normal sized eyes and a lack of green on him.

But that did not mean there was no green.

Under his fainted body, something struggled. Pushing from under his weight, what had been a mass of green flesh around his heart pulsed and divided from what little remained of that big eye. Twisting, crawling, Lewis and Vivi watched with disgust as that flesh contorted into a different shape, turning from simple vein like threads to a familiar form.

“What the fu-“

She could not finish. That thing managed to push Arthur’s body off. Its fingers slammed on the ground, its palm rising up like a snake to glare back at them. It could, considering there was an eye there, smaller, but an eye.

Without a mouth, it was unable to curse them. But it wanted too. It wanted nothing more than to rip them to shreds. Arthur too.

And in a flash, it turned its attention forward. Its eye fixed on Mystery. Open wounds all the same, an opening perfectly adequate for it.

It lunged, like a snake.

It took Vivi and Lewis a moment to understand, but when they did, she paled, while he almost began floating in shock.

“Nononono!”

“Fuck!”

It laughed mentally. It was right there, almost at reach. It outstretched its fingers, ready to brush that white bloody fur. It would sink in that heartbroken heart too.

But it didn’t.

Abruptly, multiple shadows dashed in front of it, with deafening hisses. Many yellow eyes, sharp maws, long limbs outstretched from pulsing pink figures.

Lewis panted with his hand still up in the air. His eyes narrowed as much as the ones of his deadbeats, who made the thing recoil, cower.

He tried to lunge after it, before it could try to move past them. But he couldn’t.

Vivi gasped as the thing flinched and moved to a side, dodging Lewis’ fire and deadbeats by inches. The ghost growled deeply as it dashed away with a speed it did not seem capable of displaying. His eyes let out a few frustrated black tears as it hid in the shadows of the night, escaped through the surrounding forest.

He would have chased. He would; but only a few of his deadbeats gave chase in the darkness. Instead of lunging after that monster, he turned.

Vivi was there, looking up to him with the most heartbroken of stares. In her arms, Arthur, still unconscious.

Slowly, he forced himself to near them, as much as he felt he maybe shouldn’t. His skeletal form faded, letting her see what he really was, this time clearly.

Both stared into the other’s eyes, not knowing what to say, or what to do. There were so many things that had to be admitted, or clarified. Each had a different perspective that night, one above, one below. But both had seen the spikes, and now both remembered clearly.

Clarity, it was what made them look down, with a grimace. He was bruised, beaten, with some red on him, his own blood. And yet, that wound was closed, even if evident.

Lewis trembled as he raised a hand over it, recalling that it had been an open gap before, torn open by a spike. Inside a truck, his locket pulsed, the picture inside all ever clear.

And yet, even as he took Vivi and Arthur in his strong hold and pulled them closer to Mystery, it did not feel like it. Not even as he held them against his chest did he feel the same that he did in that day. Close, yet so apart. Not even Vivi’s hands on him made him feel any less cold.

“Lewis, I-”

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted her, and she was not able to continue. His eyes, even if human-looking, kept shedding black tears. They fell over the wound he had caused, over a heart that still beat, but broken. “I’m so sorry…”

He tightened his hold, but it only made him feel worse. There was no future he could hope for, not after what he had done. In the shadows, a locket finally gave in, incapable of sustaining more fractures.

It fell into four separate pieces, each showing one smile.

[my-daniel-sg1]

Why is Daniel so beautiful? I can't even with him... BTW, any good fic in AO3 to rec for this soul? Pleeeease.

Hi there! I am so so soooooo sorry 😞 I didn't realize I had asks! It's stupid I know, I just didn't think anyone would write me so I didn't... bother to check🤦‍♀️ Apologies again. But let me try to make up for it..

What type of fics do you like to read hon? I prolly shouldn't rec any slash if you're not into it you know😉 or any particular pairing or genre you're looking for?

Also I do have a few fic recs on this blog, just search for the tag.. may find something there..

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: When Sage met Yang

Sun: C’mon, you gotta meet them!

Scarlet: Okay, okay! Can you please let go of arm?

Sun: Huh? *sees he’s holding Scarlet’s arm* Oh whoops!

Neptune: *low whistle* I haven’t seen you this riled up since they announced that Shen Long’s tickets dropped in price.

Sage: So what’s all the fuss about this Team RWBY anyway?

Sun: *smiling* They’re only the coolest people ever!!!!!

Sage/Scarlet/Neptune: *deadpan* Ahem!

Sun: ...okay, SECOND coolest, but they’re still pretty cool. Especially Blake!

Scarlet: The same Blake you helped with the White Fang?

Sun: *smiling* Yep!

Neptune: *grinning* And the same the same Blake he has a crush on.

Sun: *blushing* What? Pbfff, n-no. I-I don’t heave a crush on her.

Sage: *snickers* You totally do.

Sun: *deep red* Can we just see them, please?

Scarlet: Alright, lads. We’ve teased him enough. Let’s go meet the the legendary Team RWBY!

Sage/Neptune: Yeah!

[At the Beacon Cafeteria]

Blake: *tapping the table*

Weiss: ....uh, Blake? Why are you tapping the table?

Blake: Huh? Oh, sorry. I’m just.... a little on edge.

Ruby: What’s wrong? More *whispers* White Fang stuff?

Blake: Oh, no. It’s more-

Yang: *grinning* She’s waiting for her boyfriend to come over.

Blake: *blushing* YANG!!!!

Ruby/Weiss: You have a boyfriend?!

Blake: *blushing* N-No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Sun’s just bringing his team along to meet us, that’s all.

Yang: Well you seemed pretty excited about it this morning.

Blake: I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.

Yang: *smirking* Really? Then why were putting on makeup and Weiss’s per-

Blake: *covers Yang’s mouth, blushing* Okay, you shut up now!

Weiss: *glaring* I was wondering why it was all empty.

Sun: Hey guys!

Ruby: *smiling* Oh, hey Sun!

Weiss: Hello there.

Yang: *finger gun* Sup?

Blake: Hi.

Sun: I’d like you all to meet my team. Girls, say hello to Scarlet David.

Scarlet: *smiles and waves* Hello.

Sun: Sage Ayana

Sage: Hey. *grins*

Sun: and Neptune Vasilias.

Neptune: *smiling* Pleasure to meet you.

Sun: We’re gonna be staying at the exchange dorms and to celebrate, how about you all come on over and we can have a game night?

Ruby: Heck yeah! That sounds awesome!

Weiss: I suppose it could be fun.

Blake: *blushing* I mean... I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Yang: Sure thing!

Sun: Sweet! Though, I’d be careful of Scarlet if I were you,

Blake: Why’s that?

Neptune: *wincing* He’s a litttle... competitive.

Scarlet: What are you talking about? I’m not that bad.

Sun: *deadpans* You tried to put eggs in my shoes just because I beat you at Smash Bros.

Scarlet: You can’t prove that!

Sage: *chuckles* As a witness to the event in question, I certainly can.

Scarlet: *grumbling* You traitor!

Sage: So what kind of games do you all like?

Ruby: Fighting games are my jam! Though I also like FPS’s, RPGs, racing, action-adventure, all the types.

Weiss: I prefer board games, but I like to try some video games every now and then.

Blake: Hack n’ Slash.

Yang: I’m with Ruby. Fighting games are my favourite, though I like to mix it up every now and then. What about you, Sage?

Sage: ......... umm

Scarlet: *raises eyebrow* Sage?

Sage: *blushing* Uh....... *hides his face*

Yang: *confused* You okay there?

Neptune: Dude, what’s with you?

Scarlet: Are you alright?

Sage: *nods head*

Sun: Are you sure?

Sage: *shakes head*

Sun: .....okay, well we’ll see you girls later tonight. Come on, guys. *Team SSSN drag Sage outside*

Yang: Well... that was weird.

Ruby: What do you mean?

Yang: He seemed fine talking to us earlier? Then he just... froze.

Weiss: *shrugs* He’s probably just nervous, it was his first time meeting us.

Yang: Eh, I guess. *whispers* He was pretty cute, though.

Blake: What was that?

Yang: *blushing* Nothing!!

Blake: *grinning*

Ruby: Wait, what? What did Yang say? Come on, Blake! Tell me! Pleeeease!!!!!

Blake: Well it appears Yang-

Yang: BLAKE, DON’T YOU DARE!!!!

[Outside]

Sun: What did I tell you guys? Pretty cool, huh?

Scarlet: *sighs* Okay, I’ll admit it. They did seem alright.

Neptune: *smiling* Weiss especially.

Sun: What about you, Sage?

Sage: Uh... yeah... they all seem great. Ruby’s very joyful, Blake seems just like how you described her, Weiss is a lot nicer than I thought and Yang....

Neptune: *smirking* What about Yang?

Sage: Uh........ she’s.... she seems great and....... *blushing* very pretty.

Sun/Scarlet/Neptune: Awwwww! Sage has a crush!

Sage: *flustered* Shut up!