#THERES TOO MANY OF THESE BASTARDS

[citroncynique]

LOOK AT ALL THESE MEURSAULT SHIPS!!! I dont have a witty caption I just think Meursault should be kissed by everyone on this godforsaken bus

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[ourlittlesister2015]

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[milesworld96]

WHAT THE FUCK WHATBFUCK THELFUXJD

THEYRE TRYING TO MURDER BRYAN AND WHEELER CRYING FOR HIM

WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD

[scatmaan]

shaking my turtle, eat some of your FISH

[sunshinedottv]

I fell off the Jojolands wagon 2 months ago but I support Jodi and the gang's rights and wrongs wholeheartedly

[beenbaanbuun]

Neighbour w/ song mingi

words - 3.1k

genre - smutty

warnings - fem!reader, afab!reader, neighbour!mingi, mysterious!mingi, drop-out!reader, bitter!reader, wet dreams, masturbation, nicknames (kitty, good girl), i think that’s it

——————————————————————————

Coming home from a night shift is never fun, but its even less so in winter. As if the bone-deep tiredness wasn't already bad enough, now you have to compete with the inescapable chill of the air and the long, dark mornings that seem to drag on for eternity. It feels like months since you’ve actually seen an ounce of sunlight, sleeping through the few short hours that you’re granted around this time of year. Then you wake up again at 4pm, just in time to watch the sun go down beyond the horizon as you cook your breakfast of packet ramen and coffee.

Its a depressing existence, and you’d be the first to admit that, but you cant really afford much else. As a drop-out in a city full of students, you don't really have too many options. Full time jobs favour people with actual qualifications, and the part-time job market is wildly oversaturated by struggling teenagers looking for a way to fuel the various addictions that come hand in hand with being at university. You remember it well; the £16 bottles of Tesco’s own brand vodka that went down about as easy as a fist full of gravel, the weed from a random dealer who passed you his number at 3am while you were sitting drunk on a park bench. Its an expensive life to live, and you don’t blame them for snatching up every single decent part time job your city has to offer.

Not really, anyway. Theres certainly a little resentment there whenever a drunken customer cusses you out for refusing to serve them. Perhaps a little hatred when you’re sent in to handle yet another bar fight between two men twice your size. Definitely a lot of frustration whenever you feel the amused eyes of your neighbour as he watches you sleepily fumble with your keys whenever you return home in the morning. You’ve yet to learn his name since he moved in, and part of you doesn't want to. From the few run-ins youve had with him, you can already say that no amount of resentment or hatred or frustration you feel towards your working situation compares to what you feel for him.

That stupid bleached hair that he lets grow into something akin to a shitty mullet before cropping it short again, that brash voice that you can hear through the thin walls of your apartment as he yells at whatever sport is playing on his tv, those strangely soft eyes that watch you with so much amusement as you stumble around your shared corridor. He gets home about the same time as you after his morning run, and you hate it. You hate him. Cocky, irritating, handsome bastard.

“Someone pissed in your cereal, Kitty?” he pulls you from your thoughts with a quick quip. His shoulder is leaning against the wall on your side of the corridor, almost as if he was waiting for you to arrive home or something. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was; he seems the type to imagine camaraderie where there certainly isn't any. Perhaps he sees you as a friend, despite never having asked you for your name, or your age, or where you work, or anything else about you, for that matter. Maybe he’s lonely.

“I don’t eat cereal,” you scoff as you brush past him to get to your front door. He twists his body to watch you amble past him, your keys already poised in hand, “why would i want to eat cold mush every morning? Its gross.”

He chuckles brightly as if you’ve just told the joke of the century, and you weren’t just complaining about the concept of the nation’s favourite breakfast food. The judgemental glare you shoot in his direction happens just as easy as his laughter.

“It's a metaphor, Kitty,” God, you fucking hate that nickname, “surely work can’t have fried your brain that much.”

He wears a smirk that stretches from ear to ear, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he stares you down. Part of you wishes you could sock him right in his pretty little face, but a smarter part of you knows that the muscles that decorate his body arent just for show. He's like a dog in that sense; no matter how cute and unassuming he makes himself out to be, there's always going to be a part of you that understands what hes capable of. Dogs were once wolves, after all.

Your gaze cant help but flicker to a scar on his cheekbone, and then up to the newer one that sits on his left hand eyebrow. They’re not the type that you get from playing a little too rough as a kid, nor the type thats left over from surgery. They’re purposeful and dangerous and it makes you wonder just what he did to deserve them.

“My brain is fine,” you make a point of looking away from the scar above his eye, no longer wanting to dwell on what might of caused it, “not that the state of it is any of your concern.”

He laughs again, his smile cracking his face in two as your annoyance only grows. How is it that he can make you feel so… undermined? With such ease too! Its like every toothy grin is an act of condescension, every comment crawling beneath your skin like beetles. You’ve met plenty of arseholes in your life, and yet theres been no one who angers you quite as much as him.

“I’m just being neighbourly, Kitty–”

“That’s not my name,” you growl out, a thick layer of impatience coating your words.

“Yes, but it suits you,” he says with a shrug, “far better than the one written on the front of your mail, don’t you think?” What business did this man have looking at your mail? You’ve never once paid attention to his, nevermind going as far as to read the name that sits just above the address. You regret it now as you watch the playing field become even more uneven than it already was. Its you against him; the older, stronger, cockier man that knows more about you than you do him. Logic says that this is a game; one that you've already lost.

He says your name, humming it lowly to himself as if its an equation he’s trying to figure out. It sounds good, coming from his mouth, his accented drawl pulling at the letters in a way you’ve never heard before. The vowels get extended and the consonants ring out clear like a bell. It feels like the first time hearing your name, and whilst that might not necessarily be true, it certainly is the first time you’ve liked it. Its the first time its ever felt correct.

You could kick yourself for even thinking something so… pathetic.

“It might not suit me, but it is my name,” you insist as you try to ignore the desperate pitter patter in your chest. Its not a sensation you’re familiar with, especially not when it comes to him. You can only blame it on the romantic dry spell you’ve been facing as of late. Turns out the night shift isn't exactly conducive to meeting new people.

“Sure it is, Kitty,” you grind your teeth against one another, “but what's a nickname between friends, hm?” his teeth glint in the flickering overhead light, flashes of luminance against his pearly white canines. If he truly were a dog, you’d already be running, the look in his eyes telling you exactly whats going to happen if you entertain him for much longer. Like a rodent stuck in the maw of its predator, you can already feel your fate closing in on you. If you don't leave now, you fear he wont ever let you go.

You slip your key into your lock and twist it.

“We’re not friends,” is all you say as you bump your shoulder into the wood to pry it open, quickly slipping inside before locking it behind you.

Theres a chuckle, and a single soft tap against the door.

“We’ll see about that, Kitty.”

——————————————————————————

You sleep strangely.

Despite your mind wandering and your heart rate shifting between erratic and arrhythmic, it doesnt take you long to slip into a dreamland once your head is actually resting on the soft fluff of your pillow. Darkness washes over you like waves lapping at the shore, pulling you further and further into the deep until you’re stuck within the murky abyss of your mind. Fish swim past in the form of dream fragments, very few of them making sense.

Your neighbour grins down at you with a softened gaze, hands flitting around your face as if he cant quite help himself but touch. You feel it so clearly; a finger tip gracing the end of your nose, a warm palm cupping your cheek, minty breaths tickling your skin so perfectly. It feels so natural, which is strange given your regular distaste for the man. And as he pulls his hand away, you can’t help but to chase it. You lean in close; so close that you can almost taste his musk on the tip of your tongue. It feels so real, and while every rational part of you thanks the heavens that it isn't, there's still a tiny voice in the back of your head praying that one day it will be.

And the worst part is, your sleep addled mind doesn’t even try and shut that voice it. It seems to nod along, letting your mind wander further and further until the dreams shifts to you lay on a bed. It’s not your bed, so you conclude that it’s his. You’ve never seen it before, but your mind seems to have conjured up something that works. Dark walls, dark bedsheets, dark furniture, all illuminated by the glow of his laptop which loops an animated screensaver of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.

Heavy hands paw at your flesh, pushing and pulling at you like you’re a ragdoll. They’re careful, yet firm, putting you in position without pushing too far, or tugging too hard. Its like he’s done this a million times before, and you’d believe it if he had! Everything from his smirk, to the unfounded confidence lets you know that he’s good at this; good at catching women in his trap and fucking them until they belong to him, mind, body, and soul.

And you can deny it if you want, but something tells you that perhaps he has you on a tighter leash than you care admit. Perhaps he already owns your soul, and judging by the way his tongue presses upon your clit in your dream, it’s clear that he already owns your mind. All that’s left for him to take is your body, and would it really be so bad if you gave that to him as well.

If you were awake, you’d be hating yourself for having these thoughts, but you’re not, so you indulge. Your hands fly to his hair and tug on his silky strands like they’re the only things keeping you anchored to earth right now. It’s all too much; far more than you’ve ever felt in a dream before, and before you know it, you’re coming undone. Your heart is hammering, and your eyes are flying open and your own fingers are being drenched in your cum as they stimulate the motion of your neighbours tongue on your clit.

Fuck, you really must’ve been horny if you had to resort to sleep-wanking.

Disgust fills you from top to bottom as you sober up and let sanity rain down on you once more. Your fingers are sticky, but not quite as much as your thighs. Your underwear is seemingly nowhere to be seen, although you don’t doubt that it’s had the same treatment. You feel a mess, both physically and mentally. Seriously! Thirsting over a man you’ve dedicated your last few months to hating? It all feels too surreal to think about.

Yet think about it is all you can do. As you crawl out of bed, you can still feel his breath on your skin, and as you strip with wet sheets and shove them into the wash, you can still practically smell him. The steam that surrounds you in the shower makes your head spin, and its almost like you can’t stop yourself when for the second time that night—although the first time in whisky awake—your fingers find their way dancing over you clit to the thought of him consuming you.

You cum twice, maybe three times before the water turns cold and you’re left shivering and ashamed of yourself. This time it’s worse than when you first woke up, though. You’re conscious, and you willed those images to come into your head. No longer can you give your brain the benefit of the doubt because this time, this is exactly what you wanted, not just some crazy, nightmarish concept you’ve dreamt up.

“Fucking hell~” you growl to yourself as you switch off the water and lean your head against the cold tile. Your fingers are pruned, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or the constant abuse of your poor clit. Either way, it’s a clear signal that you need to get a grip; get out of the bathroom and remove any thought of that man from your brain. These thoughts aren’t normal, you tell yourself as you wrap a fuzzy towel around your body; you don’t even know the man’s name for heaven's sake!

You make a mental note to check his mail the next time you leave the flat. By the end of the day, you want to know as much about this man as possible. If he’s going to take over your every thought, waking or otherwise, then you at least deserve to know the name of the man that’s ruining your life.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?

There’s a knock on your door; three short taps that almost go unnoticed by you. “Shit—coming!” You yell out as you hurriedly slide some pyjama bottoms over your thighs and a loose hoodie over your head. The towel on your hair remains in place, keeping your wet locks contained and out of your face. It makes you feel a little silly, as you make your way over to the door and crack it open to reveal your neighbour, but then you remember that you’ve painted him as a slut, and so a woman with a towel wrapped around her head probably isn’t too unusual of a sight.

“Kitty,” he says with a sly grin the moment the two of you come face to face. What would happen if you just slammed the door in his face, you wonder? Would it wipe that look off of his face? You doubt it; a man like that is only spurred on by rejection. They’re too full of themselves to understand that not everyone in the world wants to get in his pants.

Fragments of your dream flash through your mind.

Maybe you do want to get in his pants…

“What do you want?” You try and push the thoughts of his tongue on you away as you speak, but you can’t push away the warmth that pools in your stomach as he looks you up and down. His gaze is so brazen as it studies your form, taking extra time to travel over your curves. They’re well hidden by the oversized clothing you don, but with the way he studies you, you almost feel naked.

“Oh, nothing much,” he takes his time in returning his gaze to your face, letting his eyes linger on your chest for a moment or two. You’re almost tempted to cross your arms and cover yourself, but there’s some sick part of your brain that’s enjoying the way he looks at you. It’s the same part that conjured up those dreams, and make you play with yourself in the shower; the same part that’s trying to convince you that lusting this hard over a man you’re supposed to hate is entirely logical. You hate that part of yourself, and yet you don’t dare fight it as it takes control. “I made too much food; I wanted to know if you’d like to come over and have some?”

Immediately, your brain goes blank. Stepping into the apartment of a man you don't really know is a bad idea, right? Sure, he’s your neighbour, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. Your eyes flicker across his scars again, and the burning question of where they came from returns. Your mind wanders to all sorts of dark places, and you try to ignore the way it makes the uncomfortable ache in your stomach deepen. You remember reading somewhere that fear is a powerful aphrodisiac and it’s the only explanation for the wetness that’s gathering between your thighs for the hundredth time today. It has nothing to do with his fluffy hair, or how hot he looks when he wears that condescending expression!

Even you can’t seem to make yourself believe that lie.

“I don’t really know you well enough to go to your apartment,” you try to reason, although you hardly sound stern about it. Your voice is weak, shaky, and there’s plenty of room for push back. With your brain teetering on the edge of too-horny-to-be-logical, you have no doubt that if he were to push too hard, you’d be sat at his dinner table by the end of the night. Perhaps you should just slam your door in his face; it would solve a plethora of issues, including giving you the privacy to fix the one between your legs (again).

“Well, my name is Mingi,” he smiles and you almost collapse to the floor right then and there. The name bounces around in your skull. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. It suits him; you like it; you can imagine moaning it.

“Mingi,” you whisper back to him, and his eyes darken.

“It sounds pretty coming from you, Kitty,” suddenly the nickname doesn’t sound so bad. It shoots a tingle down your spine right to that aching spot between your thighs. You gasp, and he looks at you like you’ve just moaned his name for the entire building to hear. Something tells you that the night is heading in that direction anyway. “So what do you say? Come over?”

And against all your better judgement, you nod.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, you just fucking nod.

“Good girl.”

[the-heron]

theres more than when i last checked all of you cut it out

Why am I receiving so many nice messages in my inbox saying I'm a favorite blog. What's the matter with all of you

[opal-owl-flight]

John. John Splatoon. The man, the goofball the sweetest man youll see. Chatty, bubbly, and gives really good team morale.

But things arent all sweet.

I wonder if he shuts himself up when he feels hes being *too* jolly.

His family is kind. Its not their fault. Yknow how people are fucking mean to those who are very excited abt things.

I think he had an experience like that. Tanara was thankfully there when things started getting really bad.

John was made fun of when he first started turfing. He was just sooo excited abt it all. So enthusiastic!! He studied abt the greats, the top players, all that. And the bitchass mean kids thought itd be funny to crush his dreams.

They made fun of him when he rambles abt strategy. They mocked him whenever he tries to be a hero and gets fucking splatted for it (OH GEE, IF HIS TEAMMATES WERE ACTUALLY *HELPING* HIM HE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN GOT).

One time I think some bastard jammed his weapon so it was unusuable for a while, and he was unable to turf.

"Good riddance," the team had said. "That beak is finally quiet for once."

Tanara saw this happening and decided to stand up for him.

They saw this boy getting picked on, and didnt hesitate in open firing at the bastards. Didnt care if theyll get banned for a week for firing a weapon off the field.

"|Hey, are you the guy who cornered me in the last match? Color me impressed.|"

Tanara doesnt stand for bullies. Ever. They hate seeing these kinds of people in the leagues. They hate the fact that these nutjobs are so good at the game!!! they want to make the leagues a fun place for everyone. None of this fuckinh bullshit. From a young age theyve already defended others. Wanted to make a better world where everyone can just be who they wanted to be, grow into their best selves.

The orange squid was a big help. With them actually recognizing his talent and running by his side,,,

They made him believe in himself. Fuck what everyone else says.

"|We won because of your strategy,|" they sign. "|If it werent for you, we'd have lost the tournament.|"

And hes given a smile of encouragement. Oh, sweet understanding, sweet recognition.

For a tender year they and John built a strong team and friendship. John became this cheery man bc of them.

They helped him stand up for himself. Helped him in the art of not giving a fuck. Or raining retribution where it is applicable (the duo have sent bullies crying after giving fjem say -- a 20 second rainmaker match)

Whenever someone tries to make fun of him in the later years, or now -- even if Tanara is out of the picture bc theyre getting blended -- he will literally ignore the naysayers. Bc he knows. He knows Tanara believes in him. He knows his team believes in him. He knows many others do, as well.

He knows his own capabilities. He knows what his limits. And hes. God, theres a reason hes second in command. Hes smart about the sport. Hes scary on the field. Dont let the goofy attitude fool you. Hes having fun but you on enemy team wont!

Some people are recently saying that Tanara left their old team bc John was lagging too far behind them, that Ink Typh∞n is the natural next step for them.

Dead wrong dipshits. If anything, those two are eye to eye.

If Tanara wasnt forced to retire, theyf still be fighting by his side.

-----------

Ofc its not all perfect. He still shuts down sometimes. Shuts himself up if he gets scared of offending someone/in general.

If he doesnt get reassurance or proves to himself/his naysayers of his own capabilities, he starts going quiet, smiling less.

Those wounds still hurt, Im afraid....

-----------

And what about after Octo Expansion.

What was going through his mind?

Like....this is your best friend. The one who helped you become the man you are. They were your role model. Theyre so strong, so assured. Confident. Ruthless on the turf. So skilled that nothing can faze them. Believed in you like no one else did.

And youre watching them seem to get worse day by day.

Theyre closing up. Theyre not telling you anything. You reach out but they dismiss you. And their colors only get more desaturated with time. They still believe in you, but its clear that theres something bothering them.

You try to share your joy with them, talking about the things you liked. Like old times. It turns out however, that the character you idolized in the media you consume, is them.

And it explains everything.

An entire secret double life and they didnt tell you.

You were their best friend. They were by your side when you struggled to make it in this city. They gave you assurance when your confidence started to fail.

They were your hero.

Where were you then, when they needed one themself?

They slump into John's arms,,

Theyre only older than him by a year. but they feel so,,

They feel so frail. A shadow of how they used to be. A body broken by war, a mind and heart ravaged by worry and vigilance and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They tell him that they dont want him to take this load. They tell him he doesnt deserve it.

He says he has no plans of getting into this, not directly. He just wants them to come back to him after duty, or allow him to help in any way he can.

He'll just wait by the door, like he always has.

And hes holding them. He wants to keep them there til everything becomes okay again.

[hballegro]

taking a short break from writing to tell you all i love having MASH conspiracies that dont matter and i dont care to prove.

episode where hawkeye hurts his finger and it plays 0% into any of the plot was because alan alda hurt his finger and they had to roll with it.

instances where hawkeye juggles or does a handstand happened solely because alan alda went 'guys watch this' and then did it.

hawkeye singing all the time because alan alda has a musical background and he just kept doing shit like that so the let him have it.

anytime bj or hawk wear something that isnt their usual attire [like the blue/purple cardigan, and the flannel that shows up like twice], its because thats what they showed up in and the costume department said 'hey that looks good on you. wear it for the episode today'

bj's got converse because mike farrells bigass feet meant they didnt have any other shoes on-hand that were the right size [other than boots] so they just told him to wear his everyday shoes in the show.

bj's robe fits so horribly because its actually his wife's robe and shes 5'1", as mentioned, so theres a reason why man has his hams and calves out all the time cause otherwise its just mike farrell being too large again.

fr mulcahy's cross gloves [croves, if you will] and cross socks [crocks, if you will] are just the beginning and he has many other things adorned with crosses for fun, such as undershirts and briefs.

hawkeye and a partner, usually bj, are always winding the same red yarn but hes never knitting it, so hawkeye is unwinding it every night penelope-with-the-suitors style so that they constantly have something to do to break the boredom and hangout.

hawkeye is afraid of mice, but not guinea pigs, so its not all rodents, ergo it might have been a dissection in school that put him off the little bastards

thats all off the top of my head but yeah. head cannons, conspiracies, i dont care i had to get em OUT

[tacky-optic]

I LIED. HE'S THE ONLY ONE I DREW FANART FOR. IM DEVASTATED

thought it was gonna be chet, turned out to be.....

.....im not crying i swear

[jyoongim]

You know how theres been so many fics of what if reader was one of Al's victims and they meet in hell?

Well I kind of want to request something like that? but like the part where the murder happens??

I wanna see human!Alastor all out of breath still smiling going "oh wow you really gave me quite a chase, dear" when he finally corners you. Him with blood staining his cheek looking down at you as he finally managed to get you in the trunk of his car and giving us that oh so sexy "Lovely." in a deeper slower voice hajdjs I AM MASOCHIST OKAY

maybe reader can be like "go to hell bitch" with her dying breath and Al's just like "gladly! i'll see u there!" and they do meet heidnsja

You groaned as you propped yourself up against a fallen tree.Your body was screaming in pain, you were covered in small cuts and scraps from running through the woods. You winced as pain shot through your system. You looked down to pull your hand away from the bleeding wound.

Fuck

You weren’t gonna survive this.

 You knew it. 

Could feel it.

It made you laugh. 

You heard a stick snap and whipped your head to see a dark figure walking towards you. You let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline finally coming down “damn bastard…”

Standing before you was the boogeyman himself.

Alastor.

He was leaned over, hands on knees as he panted, probably from running after you.

He chuckled, looking up at you over his blood-splattered glasses.

”I must admit I hadn’t expected you to run into the woods…a mistake on my part honestly…but you sent me on quite a chase darlin’ ” He was crouched in front of you, a smug smile on his face.

 He was splattered in blood.  

Your blood.

You grimaced, scrunching your nose at him. “You couldn’t just let me die in peace could you” 

His smile curled as he pulled out some rope,  oh how he loved that fire of yours.

”I’m afraid not my dear”

You didn’t have the energy to fight him as he tied you up, hissing at him as he heaved over his shoulder, deciding that you throwing insults at him would satisfy you.

”You are an egotistical self-absorbed piece of shit!”

”You think you’re so good huh? Killin folks and thinking no one knows…You ain’t as good as you think Alastor”

He hummed as he tracked back, listening to you hiss and curse at him.

”You’ll get caught mark my words! You like attention too much to keep your crimes under wraps. I never took you to be sloppy but what else is there to expect?”

He dropped you into the trunk of his car, leaning over you mockingly as you gasped trying to take in as much air as you fought the drowsiness that wanted to overcome you.

”Lovely” he brawled out tucking a strand of hair being your ear.

Even in your last moments, you fought him.

”I hope you burn in the hottest pit in Hell asshole” you muttered as your eyes closed, finally submitting to your wounds.

Alastor smiled as your body went limp “Ill gladly see you in Hell ma cherie”

————————————————————————————-

The gang watched in shock as a woman walked up to Alastor with a knife to his throat.

Alastor grin stretched across his face at the sight of you

”Why what a pleasure to see you again my dear” He leered down at your angry form “Miss me?‘

“You fucking asshole!” You hissed pressing the knife into his neck

”You might of killed me alive but ill be the one to end your afterlife” He laughed, taking your hand with the knife and lowering it. 

“Ill love to see you try darlin’ ”

[tw1sty-b1tch]

G3RTRUD3 R0B1NS0N? STUP1D 1D10T M0TH3RFUCK1NG G3RTRUD3 R0B1NS0N GOD DAMN FOOL RITUAL STOPPING KNOWLEDGE EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE CUNT BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING GERTRUDE ROBINSON. STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT GERTRUDE ROBINSON I HATE HER SO MUCH WHY DID SHE KILL SO MANY OF HER ASSISTANTS WHY DID SHE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND BREAK FUCKING RITUALS? THIS BASTARD BITCH HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NOT EVEN ALIVE BUT I KNOW SHE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST CARDIGANS GET AWAY FROM ME.if i wanted to carry out our ritual but gertrude robinson was waiting inside i would fuck the entire thing up for the sole purpose of not having to see her. if i have to deal with hearing gertrude robinson speaking one word on a tape not only will i close the door i will delete my myself from existence out of spite and have to murder every tape with her on it for the experience of being able to completely block out the times when she is mentioned or alive. she is a manipulative bitch but i am not just mad because i am ANGY. she doesn't even have an actual fucking reasoning like the desolation killed my cat my ass. fucking old ass grandma looking could blow over in the wind shithead. BETTER have had a better reason for this cuz if she didnt Im going to make him.paypal.com/IFuckingHateGertrudeRobinson. conversation was not even about her. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be one of her past assistants and I lost it. why the fuck did elias kill her first i was going to fucking do it. being shot is too basic for that crusty old twat. i wish she was alive so i could have the pleasure of killing her myself. .crusty old woman. ill stab gertrude and her sad frail old lady twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge pointy fingers and she will disintegrate until all thats left is one final bomb she kept on her at all times with a post-it-note simply reading fuck you in ancient yiddish. im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. i hope theres a date given for when gertrude died so i can make it a reminder on my phone, and everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the woman who had so many assistants slaughtered

[plotwhatplot]

illi x reader headcanons!!

(updated slightly to fit changes in my au)

this is for @fawns-soft-pillows ^^ sorry I couldn't do a fic I just have so much in my drafts and so much to finish and AGGHH 😿😿😿 yk what im saying lol :') hope u like this tho!

Context: you and illi r dating, these are headcanons on exactly that. This is also set in my au, so YES there are vampires and YES yall R the demolition lovers and YES there is genderfuckiness🗣️🔥🔥

Btw these r the exact same hcs I use for my illi x philip (my illiverse frank) ship I just switched out Phillip for reader, so if u wanna imagine it with philli (ship name) u can do that too since it's all still canon lol ><

illi: she/him (demigirl) - reader: no pronouns used (gender neutral reader)

(miscellaneous and highschool based hcs)

you tried to teach her how to dance but she messes up no matter how many times you try lmao

he'll beat up really anyone but if anyone fucks with you he'll make sure to hit em EXTRA hard with that croquet mallet!

roughness is her love language, he always hugs a little too tight or bites kisses a bit to hard, you dont mind tho, just means theres a lethal amount of love in there! ^^

hes morally questionable and it rubbed off on you, ya know killin ya enemies doesnt sound too bad! (ok pop off future demolition lovers)

you researched a lot of stuff about vampires so you could understand her. she knows that and she finds it adorable that you care that much <3

shes actually really smart, school just burns her out a little harder than it would a human.. (nocturnal diva issues💔)

if you forget your lunch or a bully steals or ruins it he'll share his with you

she loves to watch horror movies with you, but if you get scared she'll kiss and tease to distract you.

you find it cute how obsessed he is with his croquet mallet, its his most prized possession (other than you ofc, you're her favorite) there's nothing she loves more (other than u) than banging that shit onto some bastards head (even tho he gets in trouble for it, god forbid a girl has hobbies!!)

you guys like to draw eachother (im giving up on this help)

sometimes her fangs poke your mouth when you kiss :3 (fun fact abt how i write vamps, theyre fangs can go inward when they need to hide them so they look like normal canines but sometimes when they get excited the fangs can pop back out lol. but in ya mouth? youch! *you like it what huh who said that*)

hes always showing you cool underground bands he discovers

As bad as she is at it, she loves to dance with you, it's actually a good mix because your not the best dancer either so y'all just move along however you can lol

(not a x reader hc but I rlly wanted to add this 💔↓)

Illi's transfem (don't tell the others no ones supposed to know her bio gender ok so Shhhh 👅) but her gender is like a game and she's hacking the system, like she's also demigirl, her "other half" is male but sometimes she just is either too lazy to get girled up or jst straight up feels masc that day so she literally looks like a fully pledged guy every now and then, that and she's just a big tomboy and dyke combined, but she's not genderfluid she just feels a tad cis once in awhile, but at the same time she loves to feel girly if she doesn't feeling like doing her ass off and she also loves skirts but mainly bc it'll be super hot and she wants to stay cool but still, she's like half and half, fifty fifty, she's an even number, she's a he, he's a she. It's beautifully confusing

(these next ones r hcs for the demolition lovers part of my au, lilli's the demo woman and ur the demo man but u stay gender neutral big tw for themes of murder and crime, i do not condone those actions ofc)

you guys are literally partners in crime, killing and stealing for eachother is yalls love language frfr

you guys's main goal when you took up murdering was to get revenge on those who wronged you, but a little splatter here and there for funsies doesnt hurt <3

on that note yall never kill innocent people tho, the weakest yalls victim criteria goes is being a sore rude bitch lmao

you died in each others arms in the gunfight ... :(

"vampires will never hurt you" what if illi violently ripped her victims flesh off with her teeth alone? what if you got off to that? what if she knew that? what if your next but in a sexual way?? what if your GAY?!

despite the tagline being "the corpses of a thousand evil men" the devil is a liar of course and knew killing the innocent was your weakness, thus going out of his way to lie about a couple "requests" he added to your list

on that note you caught on to the devils games and tried to deviate from the task to try and spare the innocent targets but when you did that instead of the devil showing up and hanging you (like you thought he'd do lmao) he flat out made sure you got caught and thrown into a jail or something of the sort (something something you know what they do to guys like us in prison something something)

even tho illi was in a coma the whole time that didnt stop the devil from playing games with her too, he plagued her poor brain with terrors straight from hell (i love being cruel to fictional characters)

who you guys were running from in the desert was this cult like (i say like because theres not nearly enough of them to make a cult, its more like a brainwashed homicidal coven) of satanists who made deals with the devil themselves, but bringing victims to him instead of being victims themselves, yall had been on a bunch of wild goose chases but this was far worse then any of the cops and opps you two had shot away

you guys R masked killers, u wear these white masks with eye and mouth holes (cough cough "meta man" Gerard swarm outfit cough) your known (ofc) as the demolition lovers in order to stay anonymous. The only one who knows about your side hustle is milli (Mikey)

Remember what I said about you guys dancing together? Well illi learned to dance eventually, and the sight of u two dancing together actually got ya saved from assignation once, the opps thought yall were too precious to kill XD

WOAH THIS WAS A YAPFEST ‼️ a ways yeah that's all I can think of, I hope yall like these!! ^_^

[muchmossymess]

Well while this isn't technically revalink centric (or even revali centric) it is an au of sorts that been rotisserie chicken-ing in my head for a few weeks now, so I'll leave out the just for me bits and give you the revalink version

So it starts with an expanded hyrule. More world beyond the borders we're given and more variety in the races than was ever present. Crab zora dude, crab zora. Anyway, from this I divided up the goddesses, created some cool backstories for each central city and added a lot more culture and spice and everything nice to everywhere.

But that's not what you're here for, no, you want the gays and fair enough so I do, that's why I'm here rambling.

So, not very long story made not quite shorter, revali's gale is a modified versions of farores wind, and she's sort of but not really "blessed" him and helped him learn to control the winds, and also gave him his green eyes (its a whole thing I don't have time to get into), and it's why he wears his jade bangles. He's not super aware about all this, rito don't tend to believe in the fairytales of goddesses, and it won't do his character any good if he doesnt fight tooth and nail for his abilities.

Now we have link, scrawny, depressed and never sleeps, but not nearly as much as he doesn't speak nor emote. Is very much mocked by the other guards for his small stature and wiry frame, but for as much as he eats (link will never not be a glutten to me) he trains harder and exerts his body beyond what he can stuff in his mouth. He pulled the master sword from a young age (too young if you ask anyone with common sense) and was forced into knighthood since then, doesn't know much else but shutting up and fighting.

When he was assigned to be zeldas personal knight, there was tension, mostly one sided (most of his relationships tend to be that way, and its never his side is it). She started not totally hating him after being saved by the yiga (pre-champions) and starts befriending him after he fucking collapses watching her one night (im thinking the night after the champion ceremony). Next morning they have a lovely heart to heart to hands as she teaches him sign.

Now that that's been introduced, onto the gay boys. (Half these ideas are coming to me while I'm writing dude. I have creative juices flowing out of my ass rn. Uh, that sounded weird, moving forward.)

Now onto the same time as revalis flap (I've always loved that name. Like, it's so... diminishing of what it really is, and makes it feel like it wasn't truly as one sided as it seemed), it's their first meeting, revali is an absolute prick, but not as much as he is in canon, and slightly more like the Japanese version (rivals not enemies). He can recognise links skill, but sadly lacks the introspection and emotional clarity to realise how much it mirrors his own, and subconsciously craves links approval more than anyone else's, because if the so called hero of hyrule can recognise his efforts, maybe he's worth a damn (though of course he's worth a damn, he tells himself. He's revali, champion of the rito and a warrior of legend, or will be one day).

He believes link to be some knight from riches, gifted with the most talented of swordsmen for trainers and bestowed the honour of hero of hyrule, princesses personal knight, from bribery and possibly pity. What he doesnt know is that they have both been noticed by goddesses, and had a destiny shoved in their face and a power dangled above them, just out of reach but begging to be earned. By hylia do they both earn it, through hardwork, dedication, total control of the mind and body to the point they become emotionally and physically closed off to all those around them, and losing their lives to this cause. And neither of them really realise they don't want this destiny, not truly, and that it is the source of many of their miseries.

Link believes revali another pompous and arrogant aristocrat, another warrior from riches or royal bloodlines, like the stuffy shitholes at the castle, the fellow knights who belittle him, less like the kinder champions that were also chosen, but who are still chiefs and princesses and lords. He knows he must be a powerful warrior, but thinks he needs to shut up for once, which is fair, but he doesnt know that if revali didn't scream his name the world would forget it. The world doesn't remember kids from no homes brought up in small villages who shut themselves away to learn the bow and arrow.

So uh, suffice to say they both don't really like eachother, for the same misunderstood reasons. But, revali is willing to put it to the side (not really) if he bests link (if link would just fight him already) and links willing to just put a pin in it and deal with it never (like he does with everything else).

But from then on its mostly the usual fanon shenanigans. Revali insults link on the regular, urbosa scolds him and sends them on missions together, while link remains stoic as ever, revali can tell he's sparking competition, that he is competing with him. This fuels him further to get something out of link, cause he knows that there's actually a soul in there and not just the stupid sword.

And one mission they're sent to hebra and haha link really doesn't like to take care of himself and doesn't pack anything to deal with the cold so whoops he gets sick and revali gets to take care of him and brings him to the flight range to get him sorted (and totally so he can show off his shooting). But that'll wait till links better because oh Goddess! What's this! Links having a fever dream (nightmare) and holy hylia! Is that him mumbling something that could almost be called words! Wow he looks quite distressed and he's whimpering and maybe you should do something revali (out of pity. totally. he doesnt care at all for the knight)

So he, very tentatively, very unsure, very much out of his depth because this was not in the job description, strokes links hair, whispering comforts, and realises how much of a keese nest links hair is (and yet it's still so soft. It's different from the ritos hair, but in a way that feels oh so natural between his wingtips). So before he realizes the implications of the action, he finds a brush and combs through links hair, and he calms down. When link wakes up neither mentions it, but if revali thought he saw the slightest hint of a smile on the knights face, well it was surely a trick of the light.

And im so very sorry op but I will have to leave it there because the creative juices are drying up and I have a show to catch up on. Idk if this was what you were looking for but hey. it was something. and honestly I've been looking for a reason to write out my thoughts about the boys so thank you for the motivation <3

does anyone have a botw au/ revalink au that they want to talk about in extreme detail to me because I’m so bored and have zero inspiration rn

like please like it can be something so simple and/or niche or something extremely complicated and would take a while to explain but I don’t care because anything would be nice right now. If there is something that you have been wanting to share for a while now, now’s the time PLEASEE like it doesn’t even have to be an au it can just be a bunch of head cannons PLEASE

like just message me or @ me in a post or anything PLEA🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏