#and not far enough to see me be all depresso

[the-travelling-witch]

Casually scrolling the timeline and I see you not taking care of yourself and also sending your axe chicken after people.

Holly what is this?! 😤

I think you woke up today and pressed this button accidentally, my dear 🤨👇

wdym “accidentally”, that’s my alarm clock and i press quite deliberately every day

also the axe chicken was justified

in conclusion, it’s a normal thursday ✧.*

[fairly-linked]

Soft ✨ (Pining!Legend x GN!Chubby!Reader)

(A/N: content below the cut!)

Okay, so I did a chubby reader with Twilight, but Legend?

Oh my god. I just-- hnnnggggifuckinlovehim💖💖💖

I view Legend as the black cat type of partner, the kind who loves you more than anyone else in the world and would totally commit arson for you but he'd never admit it, y'know? (he canonically fits the bill for a slight yandere imo. Like he's not gonna off anyone unless it's completely necessary but he'd still do it) So I feel like when Legend sees or gets to hold chubby reader for the first time he's just like

Oh my god I love him 💖💖💖 Depresso bunny man has my heart 💖

Enjoy!💖

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Legend's been... struggling, to say the very least. You had no right being so... pretty.

He sighs as he sits on his bedroll, away from the fire. He watches you from a distance as you chat with the sailor, who seems to be telling you a story of some kind, Legend concludes by the sailor's hand gestures.

You were just so... otherworldly. That was the only word he could use. The way your hair flowed in the nighttime breeze, the way you moved, the curves you possessed... It wasn't fair. He wanted to hold you; his arms quite literally ached from the feeling of wanting to just hug you and never let go, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Perhaps if he was a bit more bold, he would.

But he still had an image to keep, and the last thing he needed was someone like Wars saying stupid shit and ruining it for him.

He sighs again, being broken out of his thoughts when sweet little you comes up to him, your voice breaking the silence.

"Hey... You okay?" you ask him so tenderly, he's melting on the inside; but his face remains stoic.

"I'm fine," he nods.

Not entirely convinced, he watches you frown.

"...If you're sure..." you mumble. "Do you mind if I sit here for a bit? we don't have to talk if you don't want to."

He pauses. Half of him wants to say no, because he know he'll be tempted by you sitting so close to him; but the other half of him wants you to stay...

...And that's the part that wins.

"Sure," he replies before he can stop himself. He's a bit irritated at himself for giving in so easily, but dammit, your smile on your cute little chubby face was just so pretty...

"Thanks," you smile at him and sit down next to him, gazing up at the night sky.

You don't sit too close to him, respecting his space; and that makes him love you a little bit more. You were just... so sweet. So gentle, and far too pure for the things he and the chain were doing. Out on the battlefield, slaying monsters, and sometimes evil people... He wanted to protect you from it all. Deep down, he knows he can't, and it frustrates him to no end.

If the goddesses were kind enough for once to let you into his life, they'd better let you stay here. He would go insane if you were taken away from them...

...From him.

He suddenly notices you shiver.

"Cold?"

"A little, yeah..." you mumble, rubbing your arms. He knew well that shirt you wore was way too thin to be actually doing anything against the cooler temperatures of the night, but what to do? He didn't want to let you in his bedroll, lest you take it the wrong way; and he doesn't have anything extra for you to wear...

...He sighs.

"...You can, uh..." he trails awkwardly, patting the spot next to him.

He doesn't miss the way your eyes light up a little.

Don't do that, don't give me false hope.

You smile, albeit a bit nervously, and scoot closer to him; but not close enough. He huffs, closing the distance between you two and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He can't hold back his chuckle in time when he sees your face turn pink.

"...Relax, (Y/n). I don't bite, I promise."

You nod shyly, your hands coming up to hold his arm. Even through his tunic, he can feel how cold your fingers are; he sighs again.

"...Seriously, you can relax. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything," he says softly, loving the way your softer body presses up against his far more than he should.

You nod again, finally relaxing a little into him. You even snuggle up to him slightly, resting your head right under his chin--

Oh god, his heart's gonna explode. He can feel it, and he desperately prays you can't hear it.

Suddenly, he gets an idea; one he may very well kick himself for later.

"Hey, would you--... Uh..." He suddenly becomes a bit shy as you look up at him, your eyes looking a bit more big and sparkly than he remembers.

He swallows, telling himself to just do it already. He leans close whispering in your ear.

"...Would you mind sitting in my lap for a bit?" he whispers, gazing into your eyes. "You don't have to if that's too much. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

He watches your face turn a bright red, and for a moment the words 'shit, was it too much?' ring in his ears.

...But he's very pleasantly surprised when you nod.

"W-Wait, really?" he asks, a bright grin cracking his usual stone-cold facade.

He's overjoyed when you nod again.

He smiles brightly, letting go of you for a moment, only to shift into a cross-legged position and pull you into his lap with a strength you hadn't realized he possessed. He chuckles when you squeak.

"I-I could've done it myself, you know..." you say softly, your cheeks so deliciously red.

"I know, I know," he chuckles. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Happily, although his face won't show it, he wraps his arms around your plush waist and rests his chin atop your head, sighing contentedly.

Much better.

His mind's in a state of both bliss and overdrive, his thoughts running wild at the fact that he has you in his hold, in his lap even, holding you like he's always wanted to.

The whole time, he can't get over just how soft you are. He imagines it's what hugging a cloud would feel like. And the way your curves press so wonderfully against him, like you were made to fit in each other's embraces--

He stops himself out of respect for you. He can't get too excited here; he doesn't want to scare you off.

...But goddamn, you're just so... perfect. Your hair smells amazing, and you're so soft, so warm...

You might even weigh more than him, and he's... not quite sure why that thought turns him on a little.

"Is this better?" he whispers in your ear, melting as you nod and snuggle up to him. He's so warm, you can't help but feel a bit drowsy. It is late, after all.

He smiles a little, rocking you slightly as notes how cute you look. He won't say it to you, but he wouldn't mind at all if you fell asleep on him like this.

It isn't long before slumber overtakes you, and you're sleeping peacefully in his arms. He smiles, but it fades the second two of his brothers, the Captain and the Champion, approach him, looking down at him with shit-eating grins on their faces as they give him knowing looks.

He sighs; he'd forgotten about the others, in all honesty.

He narrows his eyes at them.

"...Say anything and I'll light your bedrolls on fire in your sleep," he hisses softly.

The two men snicker, walking away.

"Brotherly love..." Wild calls out softly over his shoulder, both him and Wars laughing as quietly as they can so as to not wake you.

"Shut the fuck up," Legend deadpans even more softly, rolling his eyes.

They walk to the other side of the fire, leaving him and you be. He sighs again, rocking you once more, and before he can stop himself, he kisses your forehead.

He pauses for a brief moment, wondering what the hell he just did; but then he figures 'oh, fuck it, they're asleep anyway,' and continues to rock you.

Little does he know, Wild's on the other side of camp with Wars, the two grinning as Wild takes pictures with his Sheikah slate. They've never seen Legend be this soft with anyone, and they love seeing it.

...And whether or not Wild totally doesn't plan on using it as blackmail later on is nobody else's business.

[bitchboithingz]

Dumb shit my friends have said (part 2)

Again no names bc

When in doubt cut something out

You devious little derek

Oh shit/ literally (one of my friends made blue cookies and it kinda made them ill)

We be slaying but in the death kinda way, slaying those wrists

Just because you can’t see the horny doesn’t mean the horny’s not their

Just Because it’s not visible doesn’t mean it’s not their/Don’t judge on size

I know this is ain’t a great time because y’all are espresso depressoing but I’m now panicking at the disco and need help

Your forehead is wider than the whole of the USA

Anything can be used as a vibrator if you're brave enough

I wish my depression would leave me like my dad did

Aw baby wanna get drop kicked?/No but Ill drop kick yo balls/Yes please off a cliff

The 8balls corrections for the word 'sexy' so far:

Santa's bagy

Spidere Adventure BoxY

Blue Plastic Bitsy

Fishing Trophyy

Anti-Rob Packy

Watermelon Seedsy

Corncoby

Pepe Trophyiest

Fishing Trophy

Voodoo Dolle

Adventure Boxy

Cactusy

Elf On The Shelfy

Mole Many

Townie's Eyesy

Streak Freezey

Alcoholy

Prestige Packy

Shovely

Beds are overrated, sleep on your windowsill

Windowsills are overrated, sleep on your fridge

Fridges are overrated, sleep on the concrete outside your house

Concretes overrated, sleep in a tree

Trees are overrated, don't sleep

Sleep is overrated, just don't

You look like a Brussel sprouts that picked up cocaine as a new year resolution

Why the fuck are you rotating you little Brussel sprout

You look like a velociraptor in in a clogged toilet bowl

Your not from Jurassic park your from the prehistoric playground

If theirs a hole theirs a goal

Should I get a baseball bat paint no horny on it and every time anyone acts remotely horny I pull out the no horny bat for them to be bonked.

________ kryptonite right there

You should also get a dog cage as the horny jail, just because I'd really like to see ________ try fit

Why is the bat horny, we'll never know

You're just concerny not horny

When I get that darn baseball bat I'll be the protector of no horny

For the no horny is sacred kiddos

And just remember just cause you can't see the horny doesn't mean the horny isn't there

Which is why the bat must be kept at range at all times

Just *bonk*

*bonk bonk bonk*

BONK

*aggressive bonk*

B O N K

bink?

What like a reverse bonk?

No that would be knob

[honey-milk-depresso]

please

trey, jamil, rook, and the tweels with a tiny boyfriend who has very squishable cheeks

and when i saw tiny i mean barely taller than ortho tiny

Making it gender neutral bestie- UwU

And I didn't do Jamil- ;-;;;;;;

And like- 2% spice but all of it is fluff, don't worry-

Hope you enjoy! ^^

TWST tiny s/o with squishy cheeks

Trey Clover

Trey looks a little flustered by how small you,

so small he can barely take you seriously.

You just look so tiny and cute, he can't help it.

And he tries to cover up, but he fails miserably, especially when you're nagging at him to drop his work and get some rest. He tries to fight back, but really he falls victim to your unintentional cuteness and submits to you.

Trey loves resting his head on top of yours, while he wraps his arms around you and just take in your scent.

He also likes going behind you while you help him with some cooking, and when you tilt your head up to face him, he'll gently poke both your squishy cheeks, chuckling in amusement when you blushed and told him to back off lightheartedly.

He can't get enough of you,

and he's wanting more every second, sometimes, when his emotions just take over when he sees you resting your head on the table and your cheeks just rest on it,

he comes around to tilt your head up slightly, bending down to kiss you while letting his tongue roam around your mouth, smirking against your lips.

Ya'll know it was me being thirsty by this point-

CAN I LIVE PLEASE- I SWEAR- SOMEONE'S GONNA COMMENT OR ASK LIKE- "yo depresso, you trey simp-" LET ME LIVE GUYSSSS </3

Jk jk, I love ya'll-

Once he pulls away though, he smiles innocently at your face which is a blushing mess by this point- and ruffles your hair gently and kisses your cheek.

You're his adorable little marshmallow <3

Jade Leech

Jade has the constant urge to tease your cheeks by poking and lightly pinching them.

He can never take you seriously, no matter how annoyed you are with him.

Your cheeks are just begging to be squished, and he's absolutely shameless in showing that he's teasing you.

You can nag at him about working all day long, and that you demand him to take a break, he's smiling the whole time, as he pokes your cheeks, completely interrupting your speech. He playfully gives you pet names as you try retaliating, but to no avail.

And when you puff up your cheeks in annoyance, he is even more tempted to squish them.

So-

Yeah-

And the fact that you're tiny doesn't help you get away from Jade's teasing.

He pretends, "oh my, where's my little angelfish?~"

"I'm RIGHT here. HERE, Jade-"

"Fufufu~ Ah, there you are. You're looking a tad tinier today, aren't you?~"

Don't you want to wipe that smirk off his face?

DO YOU?? STUPID ANNOYING- I HATE THAT YOU'RE FCKING HOT- I HATE IT- GOD, I HATE THAT I'M IMAGINING YOUR DAMN SMIRK-

IT LOOKS BEAUTIFUL AND I HATE IT- I HATE YOU JADE- FCK-

Jade loves ruffling your hair, placing his chin on top of you as he gently hugs you from behind after a long, tiring day at Monstro Lounge.

He softly peppers you in kisses on your forehead, lips, and of course, your chubby cheeks, and laughs quietly as he leans in for more. <3

Floyd Leech

If Jade can't take you seriously, what makes you think he can?

Above all, Floyd is really, REALLY shameless in showing he NEVER takes you seriously when you scold him.

He teases you on a daily basis, and teases you more when you have your cheeks puffed at him.

You go nagging to him about his safety, and that alchemy accident he made could have hurt him.

Floyd's just smiling and grinning at how adorable you look with your cheeks puffed up and with that short height of yours, you can basically tell he's not listening to you, and that he's more focused on how cute your face looks.

Floyd interrupts you by cupping your face, gently rubbing his hands in circular motions as your cheeks squish your face, your cheeks flaring up and retaliating him in miserable attempts.

He laughs, giggling about how cute you look as he pinches and pokes your cheeks.

Floyd loves cuddling you, behind or in front doesn't matter. All he wants to do is to rest his chin on your head, as he tilts your face up and play with your cheeks.

That's all he wants.

Just expect him to tease your height a lot, such as "I couldn't see you from down there, koebi-chan~", he purposely puts the book you want on the high shelf, stuff like that.

Don't worry, he'll stop eventually and kiss your face, mostly your cheeks.

Koebi-chan is certainly adorable now, aren't they?~ <3

Rook Hunt

Rook just adores how cute you look!

Your small figure and chubby cheeks is what makes Rook think he's hit a jackpot.

He loves fawning over them, and pecking kisses on them!

You can nag at him for always watching over you, and that he didn't take care of himself, and you're scolding him for not taking care of yourself,

he simply laughs, ruffling your hair, before he pulls you into a warm embrace and twirls around, fawning over how cute you are.

Yeah,

he wasn't listening after 5 minutes-

Rook is always looking like he was put into a trance whenever he looks at you,

he just can't help but admire your adorableness!

Rook loves hugging your small frame, as he delicately place kisses on your cheeks, as he carries you around in bridal style.

And when your cheeks puff up, it's the highlight of his day.

He scoops you up and sweeps you off the floor,

carrying you as he merrily skips,

asking you to puff up your cheeks one more time and lightly teases how red your face has become.

Rook does like to tease you, and how cute you look,

but he loves showing how much he loves you far better! <3

[koohiss]

so i forced myself to get up and get a glass of water instead of drinking the lukewarm gatorade that’s been living on the side table in decreasing state of full for about a month because i have to stop letting the depresso win, and i uh.  well i cleaned my entire apartment in about an hour. i kept wanting to stop, but instead of thinking about that.... i just sort of... kept going. almost all the garbage is out, the dishes are washed, i cleaned the bathroom mirror which has only been on my to do list for about 7 months (not joking). the cat’s messes have been mostly picked up and now im making the first meal i’ve eaten at home that isnt cereal chips or chocolate in probably two solid weeks.

[writtenonreceipts]

a prompt?

single parent trope for feysand, pretty please?

more prompts for this would be great, otherwise you get my rambling mind and we all know how that goes...

Find my main masterlist here

#

An Intimate Display of Insecurities and Hopelessness

The air-conditioning was out.  Again.  And Feyre had already stripped down to a tank-top and shorts.  The heat was miserable.  

“Sweet mercy,” she muttered as she stood in front of the large fan she’d bought yesterday to try and keep things cool.  It wasn’t working.

Feyre brushed her hair from her sweaty brow and bit back a curse.  This day was not going at all the way she’d wanted it to.  It had taken her far to long to get anything started, not to mention coordinating with Elain on how she wanted to participate in the shop.

It was only three days to her deadline to get her shop up and running.  Three days to get pallets made, canvases designed, and interior design finished.  All in one-hundred-degree weather and boob sweat.

She turned back to the mess of her shop.  This was going to take more work than she had time for.  Or sanity.

The front door opened behind her with a clatter.  Feyre wasn’t that concerned about it, knowing she was getting some things delivered.

“Just leave the deliveries on the floor,” she said, not looking back.  She was trying to have a vision of what she was going to accomplish, a vision that would be epic and glorious.

“Excuse me?” 

Feyre spun at the smooth voice and nearly stumbled.  The most attractive man she’d ever seen was standing in her shop.  His black pants were crisp and cleanly lined and his black shirt was rolled up to the elbows, displaying his tanned skin.  He was tall, lean, and with his black hair swept neatly back.

Feyre felt sweat roll between her breasts.  Oh hell.

“Feyre Archeron?” He asked and took a step forward while holding out his hand. “Rhysand Avitas.  I’m the new building manager.”

A dozen curses ran through her head as she did her best to wipe her sweaty hand on her shorts inconspicuously.  Because of course she knew who Rhysand Avitas was.  Everyone in their small town did.  He was the son of the police chief and now the youngest elected mayor in Valeris history.

He had also been just a year ahead of Feyre in school.  So she knew the kind of person her was.  At least, she thought she did.

“Rhysand, of course,” she said as she took his hand. The heat didn’t seem to effecting him.  Jackass. “Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.”

Indeed, it was half-past two right when she’d told his assistant that he could come by the shop.  And see that everything was in order for her opening deadline.  Except she hadn’t really expected him to show up.  

“Not a problem.” He smiled in such a charming way that Feyre found herself wanting to hate him.

But Feyre already did hate him.  He had bought the building just two days after her father’s death.  Just two days after the building was up for sale.  She hadn’t even had the time to get funds together to convince the bank that she could buy the lease herself.  Now, she was going to have to open her shop under him.

In school he had been captain of the football team, president of the ASB club.  He had been the kind of person Feyre had never wanted to interact with.  High and mighty, proud and cruel.  He’d worn a mask of indifference to anyone beneath him, she was convinced.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Things are a little messy right now, but it’ll be ready for opening day on Monday.”

Rhysand nodded as he walked around the shop.  Bits of wood crunched under his too fancy shoes and dust clung to his pants when he brushed up against one of the pallets that Feyre was still trying to decide how to convert into a display case.

“You’re a painter, correct?” he asked.  He looked over his shoulder at her and Feyre was taken aback by his eyes.  Bright blue—so bright that she could have sworn they were violet.  And damn her if she didn’t want to at least try and draw them.

“Yes,” she replied. “My sister does some gardening and does floral arrangements and I’m planning on having her sell some of her work here as well.”

“I remember,” he said, “Mrs. Ellis always made sure all of her classes knew about her protegee.”

Feyre rolled her eyes.  The high school art teacher had been someone no one really liked.  Aside from her.  Maybe it was just because Feyre had wanted someone to pay attention to her, but the woman had always been nice to Feyre.

“My work wasn’t that good back then,” she said.  And it was true, it had taken years of study and experimentation to get to where she was now.  Ten years after those miserable high school years and here she was, finally maybe a little bit confident with what she could do.

Rhysand said nothing, only observed.  “And you’re sure you’ll be ready by Monday?  No offense Miss Archeron, but it seems like a lot needs to be taken care of.  You assured the bank, and my assistant, that your shop was worth allowing in the complex.”

Feyre’s mouth pursed as she watched his man before her.  With his impeccable clothing, that silver watch on his wrist, it was hard to imagine that he’d had any hardships in his life.

“Yes, and I keep my word,” she said, her voice cold enough to rival any a/c.  “What I would like to know is why the air conditioning still isn’t fixed.  It’s been this way for a week now.”

“It’s being looked into,” Rhysand said. 

His gaze turned sharp as he looked her over again.  Something passed over his face that Feyre didn’t care to try and understand.  She just wanted this man out of her shop so she could get back to work.

“Was there something in specific that you wanted to discuss?” she asked, “or were just interested in questioning my ability to run a shop?”

He smirked at her and shook his head. “You always did have that fire in you, didn’t you?”

Feyre was ready to tell him to get out when a soft cry caught her attention.  She held up a finger to silence him as she listened.  Maybe she’d imagined it.  Hell, she hoped he’d imagined it.  Unfortunately the cry came again.

“Just a minute,” she said.

She hurried to the back of the shop where a door led into what would be used for the breakroom.  It was a few degrees cooler back there, which was why she’d set it up for it’s current use.

Sitting up in the pack-and-play was her daughter.  Seren with her golden hair and large blue eyes looked up at her and cried again.

“Momma!” 

Immediately, Feyre scooped her daughter up.  Seren latched on with a snake-like grip.  Her arms wound around Feyre’s neck tightly.

“Hi baby,” Feyre murmured.  “Why are you awake?”

It had only been a half hour since Feyre’d put her down, she’d been hoping for at least one hour of uninterrupted work.

Seren said nothing and only whimpered into Feyre’s neck.  As Feyre whispered to her daughter to sooth her, she went back out into the main part of the store to find the diaper bag she’d packed that morning.  In one of the insulated pockets, she found a bottle of apple juice.

“Here, honey,” Feyre said.  Seren snatched the bottle and began drinking, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “Okay, there we go.  Momma need to talk to Mr. Avitas okay, can you let me do that?”

Seren nodded and the almost two-year-old tucked herself right against Feyre’s neck.

Pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, Feyre turned back to Rhysand who stood right where she’d left him.  The hard look in his eyes was gone and whatever hard-ass talk he was no doubt going to deliver evaporated.

“It seems I was wrong,” Rhysand said, “you do have some help, don’t you?”

Seren wiggled in Feyre’s arms to get a better look at the man, her bottle sticking in one cheek.

“Momma,” Seren said, her voice just slightly muffled.

“Yes, you are my big helper,” Feyre agreed, “even when you get into my paints.”

Seren beamed up at her. “I help.”

Feyre snorted a bit of laughter.  Help.  Sure.  There were some painted handprints on the wall that aid otherwise.

“Did you have any other concerns you needed to address, Mr. Avitas?” Feyre asked.

He seemed so taken aback that Feyre had had her daughter in the back room napping that it took him a moment to speak again.  It would have been amusing if the man hadn’t been so annoying to begin with.

“She looks just like you,” Rhysand said.

That was the last thing Feyre’d expected.  She quirked a brow at the man.  She knew it was true.  Seren, thank the heavens, looked like an Archeron.  There was barely a trace of her father.  Something Feyre would give thanks for every day.

Feyre heart gave a painful squeeze.  Of course that was what he meant.

She met his gaze, holding it for a long moment.  Her hold on Seren tightened automatically, something she always did when she remembered her baby’s father. 

“Yes, she does,” she whispered.  Feyre wondered what Rhysand could possibly know.  When she’d moved back to Valeris two years ago, just after she’d found out she was pregnant, she scrubbed her life clean of that man.  Rhysand couldn’t possibly know who the father was.  Even if he did, he shouldn’t care.

“Right,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. Once again, an un definable look flashed over his features, and disappeared just as quickly.  “I’ll see what I can do about the air-conditioning.”

“Good,” Feyre said, “I’d hate to have to delay opening.”

And much to her surprise, Rhysand laughed.  “Of course not.  That would be rather inconvenient, wouldn’t it?”

He turned back to the door and looked as though he would leave without saying anything else, until he paused. He seemed to be having an internal dilemma when he looked back to Feyre.

“If there is anything I can help with, let me know.”

The words were halting and careful.  Feyre wasn’t sure how to read them, how to respond.  So she only nodded.

#

i wanted to add more to this for the first part, but well here we are...

tags

@aelinchocolatelover // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @jlinez // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @acourtofsjmtrash // @hellasblessed // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @whythefuckdoiexist // @pastasiren // @beanco8 // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @surielandiareendgame // @feysand-loml

[thelibraryoferebor]

10 AU Fics For Readers Who Want To Escape Just A Little Bit More Than Usual

For a fic to qualify for this list they have to take place entirely out of the canon Tolkien universe, meaning no fix it fics or change in canon fics. Tbh, most of these are modern aus… now, on with the fics.

The Ghost and Mr Baggins by perkynurples

|| teen - 76.7k - completed ||

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Notes: This story tho... it doesn't delve particularly deep into romance, but the connection between Bilbo and Thorin is still wonderful. I love all the twists and turns and that it's set in the early 1900s gives it extra feels. I'm hoping and praying for a sequel everyday, like ugh... even though I know that the story isn't really built to have a sequel. Maybe like a prequel or something??? Idk, I just want more in this universe. Ghost!Thorin au. Definitely didn't cry at the ending...

The One With the Writers by Resacon1990

|| teen - 11k - completed ||

Bilbo is a fantasy and sci-fi author who likes a certain kind of genre of ghost stories, Thorin is a horror and suspense author who likes fantasy. Both use pseudonyms. Both go with their writer friends, Ori (also sci-fi and action) and Dwalin (surprisingly, romance). So when they meet each other, they don't realize it's their favorite author. Whether they like each other right away or not is up to the filler.

Gandalf is everyone's agent/editor.

Notes: Why is this so good. Like it's got classic tropes and stuff, but everywhere you look it's got something that'll definetly make you laugh. Just read it, you won't regret it. Writer au

The Tale of Two Canines by BrightStarling

|| not rated - 16.4k - completed ||

Thorin was smitten with Bilbo-- that Dwalin most definitely could tell.

But he didn't realize his own trouble until the Corgi's owner showed up with a shy smile.

Oh no, this is not going to be good at all.

Notes: Crack alert! While this story is complete crack it's also like lovely and well written and is very good for helping a depresso espresso bitch feel happy for half a sec. You're the depresso espresso bitch, so go feel happy. Do it for those of us (me) who've already read it a hundred times and are struggling to get any more serotonin out of it. Dwori and thilbo. Dog au???

You Want A What!? by airbellah

|| general - 2.7k - completed ||

When the stranger repeated the offensive word for the umpteenth time, with an added innuendo, Bilbo had had enough. Punching the man in the face may not have been the best solution, but Bilbo would later insist it was not his fault.

Or, a language barrier culminates in Bilbo thinking Thorin is making homophobic slurs, and Bilbo ends up assaulting the innocent foreigner.

Notes: Obviously trigger warning for the f-slur being used often. It's always in a nonoffensive way, but just in case. Personally I think this fic is hilarious and wonderful and it's just *chef's kiss* so well written. Thilbo pre-slash. Modern au!

Learning To Dance Again by LittleLynn

|| explicit - 11k - completed ||

The Greenwood Academy of Dance was run by the elusive Thranduil Oropherion.

Bard learnt quite a lot about the mysterious Thranduil Oropherion from the gossiping mothers with children at the school.

And the most interesting thing he learnt was that no one actually knew much of anything about him.

Thranduil, a legendary dancer, had opened up the Greenwood Academy of Dance, and people had flocked to it. He used to hold lessons personally, running master classes and beginners classes alike. But five years ago there had been a fire at the academy – a bad one, Bard remembered hearing about it. By some miracle there had been no fatalities and the school had been quickly rebuilt.

But no one had seen so much as a glimpse of Thranduil since.

Notes: This fic hurts so good. Like Sigrid and Legolas, just ugh, it's so good. I don't have a whole lot more to say, just go fucking read it and love it. Barduil. Modern au!

Winter Wish by Jezunya

|| general - 1.4k - completed ||

Frodo climbs up onto the stepstool, Bilbo’s hand on his back to steady him, and grasps the edge of the table in his little hands, carefully following the two DJs’ instructions of not too close and speak slowly and clearly and you’re doing great, kid, and then, when they nod and tell him to start, he says, right into the microphone:

“My Winter Wish is for my uncle to get a boyfriend.”

Notes: Lmaooooo, this fic is fucking hilarious. Just go read it. It's really short, but so much fun. I swear you won't regret it. Pre-slash Thilbo featuring helpful Kili, Fili, and Frodo. Modern au!

Un Unexpected Date by airbellah

|| general - 2.4k - completed ||

“Bad date?”

With a sardonic snort, Thorin snatched up the glass and took a few more gulps, smiling thankfully as Bilbo refilled it right away.

“Never agree to a blind date,” he advised.

Bilbo grimaced. “I don’t know what I would do, if it ever came to that.”

“I only wish I knew how to get out of this date sooner,” Thorin bemoaned.

“Family emergency?” Bilbo offered. “I’ve seen plenty of those.”

Nagged by his family members for too long, Thorin agrees to a blind date. Unsurprisingly, it goes terribly. But it seems not all hope is lost - in fact, the waiter catches Thorin's eye.

Notes: Featuring Thranduil... bet you can guess what role he plays. Pre-slash thilbo but it's still wonderful and ugh I need a sequel. Come one man! Can't just leave us hanging like that. Modern au!

Breaking Gundabad by The Feels Whale (miscellaneous)

|| teen - 3.3k - completed ||

Thorin is basically Batman.

Bilbo is basically done with this.

Notes: Why is this fic good. But it is and you must read it, that's why it's on this list. Superhero au. Wonderful thilbo. And I adore it. So be gone and read the fic... not just yet tho, I've got a couple more to throw at you. Sort of also a modern au... but really just a superhero au.

With Compliments by manic_intent

|| explicit - 4k - completed ||

“Would you stop staring,” Bilbo hissed, for the fifth time since service had started. “He’s not about to grow horns.”

Bofur looked guiltily away from the door, and scuttled back over to the tail end of appetiser prep. “Just checkin’ if he liked the amuse-bouche.”

“Well,” Bilbo scowled, “We have an entire restaurant to feed, not just Mister Durin, and Lobelia’s in a fine mood tonight, so if I don’t keep you at prep, she’ll light your tail with the blowtorch, I don’t wonder.”

Notes: Lmao, Thorin in this fic tho. He plays the role of haughty food critic way too well. And I hate Lobelia's guts just the right amount in this fic. Wonderfully written thilbo, modern au. Just go read it, I promise you have nothing better to do.

What We Once Had by Chamelaucium

|| not rated - 23.1k - completed ||

Thorin and Bilbo have been divorced for thirteen years, separated for fifteen and they can hardly have a civil conversation with each other without dissolving into an argument. But they manage.

Now their son Frodo is getting married, which would be fine if not for the fact that Thorin's sick father believes they've been happily married these last fifteen years, and now they have to get through these two weeks of celebrations without letting on that they're in fact divorced and living at opposite ends of the country.

But they'll get through it, eventually. Though how many tears and broken hearts and arguments there'll in the meantime, Mahal only knows.

And maybe, just maybe, they'll be closer at the end of it.

Notes: This fic is a classic. If you've been reading thilbo for a while I'd be surprised if you haven't already read this one, but in case you haven't you should be aware that this is probably my favorite modern au. It features Sam/Frodo and is just perfect in all the ways. I adore it so much and think it's more deserving of love and adoration then I am. Just read it.

If you want more au fics than this I’d recommend scrolling through the library’s page since most of the lists have Aus on them. There won’t be any repeats… I think. Sorry this list took so long to get out, life has been rushed. I'd really like to start getting helping you guys find fics, create lists that you guys want to see, and overall interact with you guys more. Let me know what you're interested in!

~H

[shyvioletcat]

How about some canon Rowaelin?

Very late. But better than never. Here’s day four in the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration, just some canon fluff because I think we all deserve it. We can all just pretend I posted this Christmas Eve.

~~~~~

It was Yulemas Eve and everyone had gathered in Orynth for the holiday. The main reason being that it was the little Princess’s first Yulemas and everyone wanted to be there for it. And what a perfect holiday it was turning out to be. Night had finally settled and snow swirled and twirled through the air, the snowflakes catching the light that glowed through the window. Everyone in attendance for the holiday were all gathered in an informal sitting room, filling the plush armchairs and couches.

Everyone was content and happy, half empty plates and glasses littered around. The children were on the floor in front of the fire, playing with wooden figures. Ruben led the game, his turquoise eyes catching the gold flames of the fire while Korbin seemed more interested in just lining the toys up knocking them down. The Lochan boy only nearly two after all. Fenrys and Aelin were having their annual discussion about whether or not they should have invited Lorcan for the holidays, calling him a misanthrope while he just shook his head at their antics.

Rowan himself was relaxed in a plush armchair, just observing, he could feel the small smile on his lips as he did. Tucked into the crook of his elbow was his infant daughter, just a little over two months old. Like him, she was just observing the room, looking towards her mother whenever she heard Aelin’s voice. That made him smile even more. He looked down at her now as she bit down on her fist. The wisps of hair on her head were decidedly golden and although her eyes were still the hazy blue of a new baby, he was sure they were tilting towards green. Those eyes looked up at him now, and Elspeth smiled up at him, Rowan smiled back—enough to show his sharp canines—his heart feeling as though it might burst from the joy that small expression caused.

There was the sound of small running feet and Rowan looked up to see Ruben and Korbin running over to him, Rue’s expression hopeful. For exactly what, Rowan didn’t know.

“Uncle Rowan,” Ruben asked with a charming smile, no doubt learning that from his father and uncles.

“Yes,” Rowan replied, just waiting.

“Can you make it snow?” The boy asked excitedly, that hope sparking.

Korbin was by the arm of the chair, playing with Elspeth’s stockinged foot, the little girl kicking against the tickles and cooing at the attention.

“Papa says we can’t go outside to play because it’s cold, but I remembered you can make it,” Ruben explained.

“How’s about some manners with that request, son,” Lysandra chided gently.

Ruben looked up at Rowan, those Ashryver pleading. “Please, Uncle Rowan.”

“Please,” Korbin chimed in, the ‘l’ sound getting lost along the way.

Rowan kept his face passive, like he was still thinking it all over. The boys were too busy waiting for his answer that they didn’t notice the flecks of ice that were swirling above their heads. They only noticed when Rowan sent a gentle wind to ruffle their hair and they looked up. Their small faces lit up at the sight of the flurries above them, Ruben clapping in delight. The snowflakes began to fall, Rowan sending them on errant winds which was too irresistible and the boys were running after them. Elspeth watched it all, hands waving as she got more and more excited.

Three delicate snowflakes appeared above Rowan’s open hand, Elspeth watching them form and spin. He then floated them towards her, and grinned when she tried to coordinate her hands enough to try and catch them. The little dear was trying so hard, but her movements were slow and erratic. Rowan watched as his daughter’s eyes started to cross and she tracked the one snowflake that floated towards her. Rowan huffed a laugh at the look of surprise on her face when it landed on her nose, but then her brow furrowed and she sneezed adorably. Rowan laughed again but then Elspeth let out a cry, nearly making Rowan jump. Her bottom lip started to wobble, Rowan quickly changing her position so that he held her in front of him.

“What did you do?”

Rowan looked over to see Aelin standing beside him, arms crossed and face amused.

“I was just playing,” Rowan said, holding his daughter to his chest. “I don’t think she likes the cold.”

Aelin just kept smiling, then she slid onto his lap, one arm going around his neck, his own arm encircling her waist. She put a hand on Elspeth’s back, that contract soothing her enough that she settled against her father’s chest. Rowan looked at his mate, both of them smiling with such utter contentment. Their attention was drawn away from each other by Ruben and Korbin laughing as they continued to catch snowflakes, Korbin toddling after the older boy. Then Aelin lent her head on his shoulder, kissing him once on the cheek before she settled in more comfortably. As far as his many Yulemas’ went, this was by far his favourite. It was perfect.

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @ladywitchling // @booknerdproblems // @rowaelin-cressworth // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starborn-faerie-queen // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak

[emf005]

More Expresso Means Less Depresso

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings:Whole bunch of cussing because, I mean, why not? And Peter Parker

 being the Fluffiest Puppy ever. 

Being Tony Stark's daughter came with a lot of pluses. The brains, the looks, the sarcastic comments, not knowing who your mother is until the results came back from the lab. But more than that, you had the ability to ask for permission and then do whatever the fuck you wanted to do anyhow. Like two years ago when you made yourself the Iron Warrior suit. Ha ha ha… Lord was he PISSED at you. Also, your horrible habits of not taking care of yourself when you wanted something. Like tonight. 

You refilled your mug for what seemed like the thousandth time since Monday (it was Friday) and took a long sip. By long, I mean looooooong sip of the scolding black liquid. It felt good. The caffeine. Thank Christ for Coffee and caffeine. You would have been long dead if it weren’t a thing. 

You had been working on school work and personal projects all this week, never getting a chance to sleep. Finals were coming up, a huge mission was too and you needed to work out the kinks in your suit. It had gotten damaged during the last one and while you were fixing it you had the great idea to update it. Ha ha ha ha. Not a great idea. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve Rogers and his fucking huge arms the size of your head said. Wait. Did his muscles talk? Was that what happened?” When was the last time you slept?” Nope, not the muscles, just the echo in your head. You took another sip of the scolding liquid before pouring yourself another mug. You hummed in though. 

“I don’t know. A while?” You shrugged and put the coffee the what's it mcbob (To tired, words no come to brain) back in the maker to start another batch of it. Who knew how long you’d be here. You definitely needed to make sure you had enough to last you. 

“Maybe you should get some rest. You don’t look so good,” you could tell he was worried. But it didn't take much to make the flag covered man worried. 

“No can do, Mr. America. I have too much on my plate.” He didn’t roll his eyes like he normally did at your nickname.

“Kid, I really-”

“Well nice way wasn’t working,” you set your mug down and leaned towards him with murder written all over your face. You hadn;t slept in a wee, was it really a smart idea to tell you what to do right now? “Listen here, Rogers, if you attempt to drag me away from this machine or my work I will personally rip your head off and shove it so far up your perfect ass that it’ll pop up right back on top without even touching my suit. Got that?” He swallowed and backed up a bit at the murderous look you were giving him that was thirty times more dangerous than your father’s. “Good.” You poked his chest, grabbed your mug and turned around on your heels, back to your work. 

You skipped your coffee that was now mixed with Red bull when your father walked in. 

“Dad! Dad dad dad dad dad!” He walked over to you.  

“What’s up?” He asked, not saying anything about the state you were in. He knew he should've but, as you had pointed out one time, that would consider him a hypocrite. 

“Ok ok ok ok ok ok. So, there's this thing that goes burr in my suit and it won’t go bop bop bop any more! And then for my essay, how many plays did Shakespeare actually perform himself? Also for chemistry-” He put a hand over your mouth and held up a red bull can. You thought you hid those better. 

“First off, I can’t understand you, you're talking so fast. Second off, I thought we agreed that if it came to mixing Red bull and Coffee it was time to stop.”

“I know I know I know I know. But we have that mission coming up. And finals are right around the corner. And I have this essay due. And this chemistry is for enhancing Peter’s webs so that they are forty percent stronger and sticker. Plus, they’ll dissolve in water, too!” He sighed and set the can down. 

“No getting you to stop, huh?”

“No. Now out, I’ll figure it out. I wasted too much time listening to your pointless lecture.” He was about to reprimand you, but remembered you were his daughter and that would only make you sass back more. He ruffled your hair and left to leave you to your work.

You had completely lost it by Sunday evening. You were running around the lab incircles muttering things when Peter came in, all happy and chipper to see his crush/best friend. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the state of disarray everything was in. You heard the doors shut and looked up at him with wide red crazy eyes. 

“Peter! Hi! What's up?” You went back to reading whatever it was while running to your computer to type in a few commands for your suit upgrade, forgetting he was here already. 

He noticed the forty empty cans of Red bull on the table and all the large cups of old expressos. He saw you headed to the coffee machine and intercepted your path, he wouldn’t be able to stop you if you had more espresso or red bull, he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to stop you now. 

“Hey, Y/N. I was hoping we could watch a movie!” You looked up from your notes, completely disoriented. He had seen you like this too many times to count. You got worse than Tony did. And while Pepper was the only who could stop him, he was the only one who could stop you... most of the time

“Movie? Is it about the chemical reactions of toothpaste and hggyuagd-” whatever you tried to say mashed together so much that no one, not even you, could make it out. 

“Uh. No. How about Star Wars?” You shook your head and buried it back in your notebook. 

“Sorry, Peter. Can’t. I’m too busy here. Can I get to the coffee machine? More espresso means less depresso” You felt the energy leaving you. He could see it too and was ready to catch you when you fell.

“Uh, no.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“Of you are trying to stop me from working, Peter, I swear I-”

“I wanted to ask you out.” He blurted out. 

You two went silent, staring at each other. The energy was practically out of you and your brain was short circuiting from hormones and lack of sleep and proper nutrition. Had you just heard him correctly? Peter Parker. The Spider Man. Him. This adorable puppy with large brown eyes in front of you. Wanted to ask you, the definition of a human disaster, out? 

You opened your mouth to say something but collapsed into his arms before you could get a word out. He caught you and tossed you over his shoulder.

“That was smooth, Peter,” he muttered to himself. He carried you out of the lab and up the stairs, waving at the others who looked relieved to see you in his arms, to your room. He could have easily taken the stairs, but he just wanted to hold you for a bit longer. Call it his crush on you that was growing bigger by the second, but he liked knowing that some part of you depended on him. 

He set you down in your bed and sighed gratefully that you didn't wake up. He turned to leave but you grabbed his arm, your eyes cracked open a bit. 

“Hey, go back to sleep. Ok? You can kill me when you're properly rested,” he whispered with a smile as he squatted down to your eye level on the bed. 

“Peter,”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay? Please?” Your eyes were drifting closed again and he could have easily left without you knowing. But… 

He looked at your face which fell into a comfortable sleep again, completely relaxed and your lips parted a bit. Some of your Y/H/C falling into your face. He smiled and pushed it behind your ear, letting his hand linger near your cheek. 

“Sure, dork. I’ll stay.” You smiled in your sleep and his heart skipped a beat at the up turn of your pink lips. He slipped off his shoes and slipped into the other side of your bed. 

It wasn’t unnatural to find you two like this. Ever since you two had started going to the same high school, per your demand when you father asked about schooling, you two had been best friends. Joined at the hip it seemed. 

You shifted in your sleep so your head was on his chest and he held your shoulders. He watched you sleep for a few seconds before sleep over took him too.

He woke up to the feeling of someone watching him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked down to see a pair of Y/E/C looking back at him. He smiled and stretched. 

“Hi.” He mumbled. 

“Hi,” you mumbled back, your eyes not leaving his face. He looked back down at you. 

“What?”

“Did you mean it?” His heart stopped beating. Did you remember what he told you before you passed out? “Did you really wanna ask me out?” He stared at you for a moment. You still looked half asleep. Most likely you woke up from the thought of him asking you out making its way into your sub conscience. 

Ok, just lie. It’ll be fine. Just say you did-

“Yes. I did.”

You stupid little-

“Y/N, I really really like you. If I’m being honest,” he searched your eyes. “I have for a while now. I- uh- well you see I-mmph?” your put your lips on his before he could say another word. It wasn’t quick or long It was the perfect amount of time. You pulled away with a smile on your lips as you watched his face become more red. 

“I like you too, Dork. Next time don’t wait so damn long to tell me.” He smiled brightly. 

“So you’ll go on a date with me?” You returned around so you were on your knees. Laughing, you shook your head. 

“Yes, Spider Dork. I’ll go on a date with you!” He smiled and kissed you, you responded immediately. Giddy that the Spider man had finally asked you on a date after what seemed like years of having a crush on you. Yes, you knew he liked you. The boy was so obvious and adorable it was hard not to tell. You just wanted him to be the one to make the first move. 

End          

[imbeccable-writes]

Separated ch. 5 - Depresso Espresso

read the first chapter here

Summary: Yakko mourns. Wakko picks up drawing. Dot misspeaks.

Or, revisiting old grief.

Yakko slowly blinked his eyes open an indeterminable amount of time later. (A brief flicker of a joke passed through his head, a deflecting we’ve gotta stop meeting like this to the ceiling, but it just made him feel worse for attempting humor in a situation like this).

It felt like it took every ounce of his energy to even keep his eyes open, like there were weights pulling down on his eyelids. In fact, it felt like weights were strapped to every part of his body—his legs, his arms, his hands and feet, even his head felt ten times as heavy. And, with his memories of his last conscious minutes (or seconds or hours) flickering to the forefront of his mind, it wasn't hard to know why.

But… well, that couldn't be right. Surely, it was just a nightmare, nothing more. There was no way that happened. Mai wasn't… Of course she was still… She couldn't be… ahem. The heavy weights holding him down were just remnants of his horrible dream. The vice around his heart was the same.

That had to be it, and nothing else.

He stared blankly, at the ceiling above him. His nightmare must've taken a lot out of him—he could hardly bear to even think of moving.

There was a sigh off to the side and Yakko slowly turned his head to face it. He saw Auntie sitting there with reddened eyes and damp hair, looking about ten years older than she had before.

He wondered if his own grief had aged him, or if he looked every bit the scared, anguished ten-year-old he was.

What grief? he thought immediately after, with a broken kind of desperation, What fear? What anguish? Everything's fine, I don't know why she looks like that, I—

“Y’know,” she started softly, looking off into the far distance. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

A lump swelled in his throat at the direct mention of The Thing He'd Been Denying, and it was like seeing it all over again. It felt like a cold bucket of water pouring over him again. His limbs locked and he felt truly frozen, dread seeping into every corner of his being.

So it wasn't a nightmare, then. It was real. Mai was… she wasn't…

For some reason, he felt like laughing. Or crying. Or both. He settled on neither.

He meant to tell some joke to Auntie, to make a funny quip about the feeling being mutual, to yak the way he was born to do, but he could scarcely gather the energy to open his eyes, let alone open his mouth and force words out. So he just stared at her, blankly.

Auntie blinked and her eyes refocused. She met his gaze and, had he not been staring directly at her, he wouldn’t have seen her slight wince or the heartbreak in her eyes.

What did she see when she looked at him? What could have caused the normally composed, controlled Aunt May to react that way upon meeting his eye? He didn’t think he wanted to know.

After another moment of hesitation, she whispered, "I'm… sorry I couldn't protect you from that. It…" She laughed once, bitterly. "It's barely enough for Grace 'n I to bear, let alone a kid. Let alone her kid."

He closed his eyes against a wave of grief. Before, being referred to as Her Kid had always sent bubbling happiness coursing through him, but now…

It seemed the world couldn’t let him have anything. Not even good memories were safe from its corruption.

"Y’know…" Auntie continued softly after a beat. "I know it… hurts, more than you can bear, but… it's proof of how much she meant to you." He barely managed to pry his eyes open again, silently asking for clarification. She smiled, a sad, broken thing. "It's… Grief, it's just… it's persistent and agonizing, but it's proof of just how much you loved her. How much we all loved her.. Tha's—Tha’s all grief is, really… Love, persevering through death.” She let out a tiny breath and let her gaze drift away. “It… That’s always helped me through it, and it ain’t right that you have to go through it at all, but maybe that can bring you some sort of… catharsis.”

Yakko could understand her thought process, and the thought of this pain inside him simply being his love for Mai was romantic, but… 

Auntie huffed a small laugh. “I can see on your face it didn’t really help.” Well. It wasn’t Yakko’s fault he couldn’t pretend he felt okay.

Auntie sighed once more and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. She looked so… tired.

When she removed her hand, her eyes were misty and avoidant. “... Would apologizin’ help any?” 

His eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion, because she’d already apologized. He almost managed to say as much, opening his mouth, but then she met his eye with a particularly knowing, anguished look and a memory flickered through his mind.

He and a few other kids had woken up to a commotion downstairs last night (or maybe the night before, he wasn’t sure how long it’d been since…). Yakko had gone to investigate it, but he was stopped by Auntie, who had come up to tell everyone awake that nothing was wrong and to go back to bed. In other words, she’d stopped him from seeing Mai be dragged away. She stopped him from saving her.

Never mind that he couldn’t have done anything. He was ten. He barely had a hold on his toon powers, which only worked if the situation was funny, and it most certainly would not have been funny that night. He couldn’t have stopped them even if he was there to try. He couldn’t have protected her. He couldn’t do anything.

He wasn’t sure if she was referring to that. He didn’t know if it mattered.

He considered the benefits of getting angry, of yelling and screaming that she denied him the chance to save his mom. He had every right to. His little family had been torn apart once again and he’d been powerless to stop it. Even worse, he hadn’t even known it’d happened until it was too late—he’d only went back to bed and slept while Mai probably screamed and cried for someone, anyone to help her.

He could scream. He could yell. He could cry.

He didn’t.

“No,” he said simply, allowing a realization to spread over him. He couldn’t allow Auntie to blame herself for this. Not when he knew the true culprit.

She pursed her lips and gave him a single, solid nod.

After all, it wasn’t her fault Mai was taken away. It wasn’t her fault he hurt.

It was his own.

Read the rest on ao3

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

You could do it with: IDW: Megatron, Ultra Magnus, Max, Rung and Bayverse Optimus?Thanks! You have a good day! :D (2/2)

HI I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. MY GHOST LITERALLY WROTE THIS. I know it’s extremely late but my writers block has been hitting me during the pandemic while I’m stuck at home so hopefully I did this ok.

@bellisimapormesana

Character wasn’t stated so I’m defaulting to a cybertronian! Reader.

IDW Megatron

He feels you.

Seriously, this poor mech is as pessimistic as you’ll ever get.

Don’t make me bring in the depresso espresso memes.

It took you a while to warm up to those who were pesistant in becoming your friend (I’m looking at you rodimus), so getting anywhere with him is going to take forever.

If your not at Swerve’s cracking jokes and getting into crazy shinanegans while Ultra Magnus just sits there with his helm in his servos, you’re either alone in your berth room or wandering the many halls of the Lost Light.

Normally Megs is too deep in thought to pay attention to notice most walking by, but his optics will set on you when he almost walks into your frame sat on the floor. But you’re too busy observing the stars outside one the windows to acknowledge him.

You would expect him to take a least a few times of running into you to actually realise that your processor was currently far away from being a happy place, but like I said, this guy’s been through shit.

One single look at you. And he knows.

The way your optics are dimmed already give off the tell tale sign that your mind is wandering places. Like, there’s a whole universe right in front of you, galaxies and technicolour planets passing by, you should be dreaming of the adventures you will have, yet you sit here, frame slouched, with a solemn empty look across your face.

Everything seems to stop still for Megatron as he stands there. Memories and nightmares flashing across his processor, bringing back glimpses of emotions that he wished to never feel again.

Everything about you screams loneliness, and he feels his spark shatter at the sight of you.

There is no way on Cybertron that he will let you experience the depression he did.

He won’t force any means of physical comfort upon you, since you could just push him away so easily if you wanted to.

All you hear are a shuffle of pedesteps and a gentle thump as he sits himself beside you, glancing at you once without uttering a word.

Through that single glance, he showed you that he understood, and reassured you that you’re not anywhere near alone in this universe. And he had your back.

Ultra Magnus

When you first boarded the Lost Light, you had blended in amongst the crowd and didn’t really speak up much.

Therefore it took Magnus quite a while to find out who you were.

The poor mech didn’t really have much time to make many friends, since he was too busy either speaking about statistics, or chasing Rodimus throughout the ship to try and prevent any disasters from taking place.

The first time he really noticed you is when you actually started to hang out with Roddy and the rest of the main crew.

He would see you dissappear around corners as you tried to avoid ending up in trouble with your fellow pranksters, or sitting at the bar as Swerve proceeded to die of hysterics at the joke you cracked.

He also saw you exit Rung’s a couple of times as he went in.

The first time he exchanged a conversation with you was at the bar with everyone else.

You were sat between Rung and him as you fiddled with your servos. He noticed that you were quieter than usual as you stared at the half empty energon in front of you.

He hadn’t had the slightest clue of what to say to you as you sat there. He was just downright confused as to why you weren’t being as loud as the others.

Suddenly a thought came to his mind as he recalled something.

While you were well known for being slightly disobedient when you joined Rodimus on his adventures, he was mildly surprised at how well your reports were laid out. You may be a funny prankster but your reports came on the dot, full of the right amount of detail that Magnus would be satisfied with.

So while it may had not been a great way to greet someone, he brought you out of your silent state by praising you on how well your reports were.

You looked up at him, slightly taken aback at the sudden gesture, but you returned it with a small smile and a quiet “thank you”.

He didn’t know straight away of you pessimistic states and episodes, but it didn’t take him a while to realise it either.

He would notice there would be times you would seclude yourself to a quiet space, and he would notice your seat to be empty at meetings every one in a while.

He’s a busy mech, so he can’t always pay attention to you, but in his free time, or when he is walking the halls, he would see if you were on your own or not.

He’d find you at a window or an empty room, and gently ask if you would like to accompany him in going over statistics or organising some files.

“Isn’t Roddy meant to assist you in that?” “Yes but he never does it properly and disappears within five minutes.”

Some things he offers to do with you may be boring, but it’s enough to keep you distracted and on the plus side you get to spend time with your favourite Magnus.

Fortress Maximus

He’s the type of mech to observe people, especially you, from a distance.

While others seem boring or just make him nervous, you’re the one who seems to catch his optic the most.

Because you confuse him.

One minute you’re laughing tears of lubricant out of you optics with Drift as Ratchet storms in, covered helm to pede in pink glitter glue, then the next you’re sat in the dark confines of your berthroom, the only light provided is a dull blue hue from the data pad you’re reading off, eyes absentmindedly scanning across, but never actually taking the words in.

It takes him a small amount of time to properly realise how deep of a state of pessimism you were in when you were experiencing these episodes from time to time, and somewhat understood how you felt, since this poor mech is one sensitive bby once you delve down deep enough.

The next few days are spent with Max confining himself to his own berthroom, making some begin to wonder where he had disappeared off to. Some thought he was just distancing himself (like me because of shitty corONA). But instead his was carefully thinking out some form of plan to try and eventually manage to keep you as your happy self 24/7.

He - somehow - convinced Red Alert to allow him access to a weeks worth of some security clips and gathered a basic routine of when the pessimistic mood would begin to set in by the way your body language started to shift slightly and slowly but surely, you drifted away from the crowd and eventually found yourself in the confines of your berth.

He’s not a stalker I swear.

He sensed your shy nature, and being a somewhat shy bean himself it took him a few minutes of mental preparation, but he managed to stop being a wallflower at Swerve’s when he spotted you come in.

You avoided the eyes of most as you were just there to grab some energon and whisk away back to the earth story you were reading in your berthroom. You eased your way through the small crowd, cringing at some of the loud laughs that reached your audios.

Reaching a clearing in front of the bar, you were about to open your intake to ask for a drink, when you felt a large presence loom behind you.

Turning around cautiously, you were met with a white and blue chest plate.

Your attention was taken away from the loud noises as your audios picked up a quiet “hello” as you looked up to meet a pair of nervous red optics.

Max knew he was big, even for a cybertronian, so he was concerned that his large presence gave off an intimidating demeanour, and it would scare you away.

However, much to his surprise and luck, you gave him a small smile and gave a quiet greeting in return.

You two spent the next few hours in a secluded booth in the corner of the bar exchanging mutual conversation while sipping on different concoctions of Swerve’s drinks.

You were enjoying the new company, basking in the presence of a fellow awkward cybertronian you could relate to. You found it cute as you found him staring at you, only too look away while staring down at the drink in his hands.

On the other hand, Fort Max was internally proud of himself managing to keep you from the depressing depths of your berth and also of you not avoiding any form of social contact for the night.

This carried on for a few months or so. Max kept up the effort to watch over you, becoming alert if you would suddenly leave in the evening or if there was nothing on. He would take another route, and catch your attention before you reached your room, gently asking you to join him on some sort of activity. Whether it was crafting something Rung recommended, or going star gazing.

In some way he would coax you out and put a smile on your face.

IDW Rung

You think you can get away from the observing eyes of god Rung the therapist?

After one appointment with you he could see that you weren’t as happy as you presented yourself to be.

There’s nothing much to say for this guy except for the fact that you keep going to these sessions with him.

You may not want to tell him everything but he tries his best to try and show that he understands you.

Instead of these meets going the same as most others, Rung will have you stay for longer and make it more interactive with things such as making crafts such as model ships, and also will tell you a story about each one.

Hell, he would sometimes book appointments for you, mostly in the evening when you weren’t busy.

You enjoy the company, but it also means poor Rung actually has a friend that talks to him more and frequently visit him.

You’ve never gotten his name wrong once.

And that puts a little smile on his face each time.

If he finds you in one of these states, he won’t say much at first. Just gently holding your servo as you both sit by a window until he quietly begins to tell you a story to get your mind off any negative thoughts.

Bayverse Optimus (aNgRy MaN)

Bruh

He feels you too

He’s lost too many friends he considers family

Has been known to go into pessimistic states himself

But doesn’t know if anyone else experiences these things like he does

When he watches you around base he sees you having lots of fun with the younger bots, pranking Ratchet or practising you abilities in the field with Ironhide.

In his attempt to make sure that no one really finds out or suffers when he’s in this depressive mood, he tends to worry about it in the dead of night when nobody is around.

Or so he thought.

He has takes up the opportunity to walk around base during the late hours, sometimes to sit and take in his surroundings while trying his best to push any bad thoughts to the back of his mind whilst he stargazes.

Only to find that looking at the stars reminds him how far away he is from home, since when he looks up, none of the flickering dots are familiar, and another wave of sorrow hits him.

This would happen almost every nights, unless he needed to rest up for a mission.

One night he was doing the same, recalling both good and bad memories, when his audios picked up a quiet screech, like metal on metal, from behind somewhere.

While it may have just been the wind, Optimus knew he needed to be alert for any surprise attacks from the Decepticons, so he got up as quietly as he could and spent the next couple of minutes attempting to locate the source of the noise.

Another very similar noise had led him up to the roof, but at their point he still didn’t know if this was a threat or not, so he cautiously lifted his helm over, a servo hovering over his blaster.

What he didn’t expect was to spot your silhouette in the moonlight, sat on the edge, staring into space, a solemn look on your face.

He was taken aback slightly at this sudden sight of you, since you were normally so bubbly, and had managed to bring out a low chuckle in him every once in a while.

Relaxed that it wasn’t Ravage skulking around, he was still concerned about you.

He would sit next to you and spend the next hour or so speaking quietly with you, finding out and understanding why you seemed so down.

While he wouldn’t mind staying out here with you for the remainder of the night, you both knew Ratchet would scold you both for not recharging properly, so he took you down silently to your berth, and stayed by your side until you were in deep slumber, then return to his own berth.

This happened almost every night, just the both of you basking in each other’s presence and company, and pointing out Earth constellations into the early hours of the morning.

Enjoy :)

Oppy out.

[nessschurch]

Booth & bones

lmao that the two replies that i have thus far are both B&B lmao.. I guess i have a brand.

good for me and everyone i guess that i have such a long "bones feels" playlist (also i loves the angsty era up until like season 6?)

anywayssss im gonna make them all diff but yeah here goes! heres part two if anyone cares lmao

1. The Reach by Miranda Lee Richards is always gonna be my number one i think just bc i cried the first time i heard it bc i related it to them so much

"No, I could not forgive myself thinkin' I held you back. Go ramblin' like a freight train and get yourself on track. In being who you are there is no shame, And through the eyes of compromise it never looks the same."

like this song just works so well for them from both perspectives and ill never get enough of it.

2. Water by Pentatonix - it just works so well for them... like esp like from booth perspective like during the 100th??? Then also after they get back from their 7 months apart from Brens perspective??? i just love it a lot lmao

"My voice cracks, I wait for it to pass Heart beats fast for words I can't take back And so I pray I don't drive you away 'Cause I'm scared of what I have to tell you

Timid heart, hide my scars Make me stronger

I can't take this any longer I need, I need you like water It's on the tip of my tongue I'm not asking for much"

3. Get Sick Soon by Hello Saferide - This is a bit of a funny/sweet one thats just very cute about taking care of your otherwise tough s/o when theyre sick, and i love the repeated lyric at the end of "just lay your weight on me and ill be your backbone" and i actually really wanna make an edit with this as like the theme.

"I'll fluff your pillows, I'll buy you a Spiderman comic and read you 'til you fall asleep Sleep on my shoulder! I won't wake you even if My back turns crooked and I have to walk with a limp for a week I'll make you soup and none of that kind that you get in a jar cause I Know you don't like those"

just utter cuteness and tbh both of them vibe with both the ppl in this song lmao

4. There is a Light that Never Goes Out by Sara Lov - This song is like super depresso but sometimes thats just a vibe you crave yknow??? Also yeah i know this was originally The Smiths but this version is the one i always listen too lmao. I just wanna quote this whole song omg. Its v hard hitting though so be warned.

"Take me out tonight Where there's music and there's people And they're young and alive Driving in your car I never, never want to go home Because I haven't got one Anymore

Take me out tonight Because I want to see people And I want to see life Driving in your car Oh, please don't drop me home Because it's not my home, it's their home And I'm welcome no more

To die by your side Is such a heavenly way to die

To die by your side Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

And in the darkened underpass I thought, "Oh God, my chance has come at last" But then a strange fear gripped me And I just couldn't ask"

ok i think i did the best i could with this one but yeah i mainly relate it around the doctor in the photo and yeah it just makes me emo

5. You & Me (Acoustic) by James TW - I figured we'd end w a cute happy one bc the last one was heavy hitting. This is such a cute sweet song that fits them super well and i like to think of it as post 100th song but also it works really well post fight in 08x15???? Again this is another song i just wanna quote all the lyrics from lmao.

"I didn't mean to hurt you So why'd I let you walk out the door? You say that you don't know me You don't know who I am anymore But if you knew the truth, then Then you wouldn't feel insecure 'Cause if I didn't have you I wouldn't have nothing at all

I wish you could see yourself through my eyes I always forget that you can't read my mind

As long as I got you and me Moving through this world as a two-man team I'll always have everything I need You don't even realise what you mean No one could fall for you quite like me No one could get me so perfectly You don't even realise, You're all that I need 'Cause I want you and me, you and me"

i think the verse after this will fit them better towards the end of the series but i still have that to look forward to i guess? i think imma leave it with these 5 for now ahhh feel free to let me know what ya think if ya want?

[bukojuiice]

julie i just... have you,,, seen bnha 296 leaks,,,

I HAVE!! AND LIKE?? I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO FEEL LAST NIGHT!?!?! THE LEAKS WERE TOO MUCH FOR MY HEART 😭😭😭 (this may or may not be a long post and I'm sorry in advance joji ily 💓)

(spoilers to anyone else who sees this ask!!!)

First, I'd like to start by saying Horikoshi is a genius. I'm proud to say he's one of my favorite Mangakas of all time. I've been following the current arc since April and all it's given me is expresso depresso every time I look up the new leaks every week.

Second, I absolutely have no idea or theory about how the Heroes, most especially, our Class 1-A babies and other kiddos who participated in this war is going to be able to bounce back from this. Seeing permanently disabled heroes, the funerals, the trauma, Hawks and Endeavor being exposed for their past, and people will 100% think differently of the Hero Society after these events (makes me wonder why they livestream the entire war like it's some reality show or smthg I never really liked that part and understood why it was necessary. Like imagine people watching at home and seeing some heroes decay and die it's really messed up) There's just going to be a lot of consequences and although the heroes may be victorious for now, the villains still got their taste of victory with all the loss and the sacrifices that the heroes made. The Meta Human Liberation Movement most probably got a lot of exposure too and I'm not surprised if people are going to use their quirks freely for God knows what after all that has happened. Anyway Shiggy k wording AFO in the next arc pls 🥰 it's what he deserves.

OK ENOUGH OF THAT AND ON TO CLASS 1-A

There's a lot to unpack and I don't want to make this thread longer than it already is but sometimes I think we forget that most of our beloved anime characters are teenagers fighting some Ultra Super Mega Lord Deus Ex Machina Demon with the power of friendship. I get that it's not important in other series but what I love about BNHA so much is that it constantly reminds you that these characters you know and love so well are children. Teenagers. They are 15 at the start of the series and then 16 by this arc. They have big dreams, aspirations, and all they truly want is to become a hero of society. The amount of tragedy and chaos they experienced is just something I can't even comprehend. The character development and the emotional maturity that the main characters have received. (Special mention to Bakugo, Kirishima, Midoriya, Todoroki, Ilda, Ochaco, Momo, and Tsuyu) is amazing and seeing all of these characters grow in a span of a few seasons and 200+ chapters melts my heart. Class 1-A, The Big Three of UA, Class 1-B and every other child who participated in the war is going to struggle. They're most likely going to question what they're truly fighting for and what's right and wrong. This will affect them not only physically (due to their injuries) but also mentally. As the preview for Chapter 297 says, "The worst is not over yet." I like to think of this preview as alluding to the aftermath of the war. Not exactly another devastating event about to take place. (Not unless Horikoshi does an uno reverse card on us and makes the characters suffer again then HNGGG)

I just hope my three best boys are safe and recovering. I am ready to fight Horikoshi if ever anything else happens. I do not want to see Mina, Kirishima and Momo cry ever again and I don't want to see Izuku's injuries like that ever again or else 😤

TLDR; This is why BNHA is and forever will be one of my favorite anime of all time. It's not just your typical shonen (with a lot of people complaining that there's a lot more talking than fighting) because it just doesn't focus on the action and the cool fight scenes. Rather, it focuses on both of those things along with the characters and their development, and the now morally grey line between the ideals of the hero and the ideals of a villain.

I'm in awe at how much the series has come so far and I can't wait for more (highkey ready to cry now too tbh)

Lastly, RIP to a positive representation of a Femme Fatale in Anime and Manga. ☹️

[deathisanartmetzli]

You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current - 10:29pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli stop by the hospital for a simple errand, and what transpires is not so simple.

CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Gaslighting tw, Alcohol tw

Milo didn’t enjoy the hospital. Not only did it hold far too many memories of his childhood, and the relationship he used to share with his parents, it was clinical, and overwhelming. Now that his senses were heightened, every smell, and sound, along with the bright strip lighting overhead felt like an assault, battering him from all sides, pressing in on him until he felt small, and crushed under the weight of it all. Though he was grateful Metzli had agreed to take a detour so that he could drop off the pager Harsh had forgotten when leaving the apartment for his night shift, he was also incredibly on edge. He wanted to get in and leave as quickly as possible, which was why after successfully delivering the pager, he was hurrying down the halls, undeniably familiar to him even after so much time had passed. He hadn’t told Metzli that his parents were probably working, he wasn’t even sure he had told them they were doctors, but he would be able to explain when they were safely inside the car, on their way to whatever bar or club they were going to spend the rest of the night in.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it now. Things had been difficult for years, complicated, and messy in a way few people understood. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on so he turned to offer his friend a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it was the best that he could manage considering the vague sense of panic settling deep within his chest. “I fucking hate this place…” He muttered, hoping that would be enough to justify his odd behaviour. He kept his head low, running through every way he could continue to make small talk, and avoid any questions. No doubt Metzli was going to be full of them. Accidentally catching the eye of a nurse who used to give him lollipops when he would visit with his dad as a child, he saw a flicker of recognition in the way that she looked at him, and began to walk even faster. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. “Don’t look at her, please-” He half begged. What if she stopped them? What if she sent a message to his mom and dad? “Come on, let’s just go-”

Metzli was annoyed with the pit stop the two had to make before going for drinks. Even worse, they were stopping at a hospital—probably the worst place for a vampire to be. All the smells—cleaning products, blood, death—they arched a brow at Milo. He was much more nervous than usual. “Depresso, everyone hates hospitals. They suck.”

Hands were pocketed as the two navigated the halls and Milo’s attempts at appearing calm were failing. Yes he hated hospitals, but Metzli was gathering that he hated this hospital in particular. Just as their mouth opened to ask what the hell was wrong, they ran into a woman. A clipboard clattered to the floor and Metzli swiped it up quickly to hand it back, “My apologies ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

A flirtatious smile formed and they cocked their head to the side. Milo’s mom may be older, but she was certainly beautiful. Just before they were about to put on the real charm, the doctor recognized Milo and turned her focus to him.

They managed to make their way down a few more corridors without any kind of interruption, and Milo was almost starting to believe they were safe. His parents could be in their offices, which were situated on another floor. Or maybe even in the cafeteria, sharing a coffee during their lunch breaks like he had seen them do so many times before. But his hopes were dashed when, forcing Metzli to keep up with him, they walked into a doctor, a blonde woman whose scent he recognised almost immediately. Coming to a halt, feeling every emotion he had been working to repress, he stared at the face that looked so much like his own. Distracted by Metzli, it took his mother a few seconds to realise who they were with, but the moment she laid eyes on him her expression shifted, pain obvious in her eyes, despite an underlying hope that he recognised all too well.

“No, no, don’t apologise.” She insisted, her voice quiet, confused. “Thank you.” She accepted the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of her only child. Milo knew she was wondering whether he was ready to come home.

“Hi, Mom…” He said, his voice cracking as he broke the sudden, awkward silence. As if on cue, she glanced behind her, and his father emerged from a private room. Moving automatically to stand beside his wife, it took him far less time to realise who she was talking to.

“Ali, I’ve put in a request, a technician should be here in about an hour-” Breaking off without warning, he turned to stare at his son. His eyes automatically began checking him over for any signs of physical injury. He was noticably flustered, but doing his best to remain calm. “Milo?” He asked, his voice sharp, an edge to it as he clearly tried to figure out whether there might be an ulterior motive, or a darker reason for his visit to the hospital. They all knew he wouldn’t show up for a family reunion. “Are you hurt?” Milo faltered, shocked by the question. For a brief moment he was reminded of the fact that they cared. But before affection could overwhelm him, his usual guards fell into place, aided by the alcohol he had already consumed over the course of the evening.

“What?” He demanded, his anger coming to him easily. A well practised routine by now, one he was confident in. “You aren’t going to ask me to take a drug test? Or empty my pockets to make sure I’m not stealing pills from your precious patients?” His dad didn’t react, far too used to the defensive response, but his mom bit down on her bottom lip, hurt by the accusation.

“Milo, that isn’t-” She started, but he cut her off, refusing to let her get under his skin. What he was saying was valid, they had made similar judgements in the past. They had questioned him, yelled at him, cried in many desperate attempts to emotionally manipulate him. The two interventions they dared to stage still filled him with rage, and a burning shame that he willed himself to ignore. He wasn’t the problem.

“Whatever,” he muttered harshly, making an effort to avoid eye contact with them both. “We’re leaving, right Metzli?”

Metzli was stunned by the verbal interaction between Milo and his—parents? They could only look back and forth between the two parties as they held their own private conversation. But they could hear it all. The anger and resentment on Milo’s behalf, and the parental love and worry from his mom and dad. It created a whirlpool of emotions in them, unsure on how to feel or even react.

Milo’s mother clearly seemed worried, only asking if her son was okay, and she was met with this? A grown man acting like an ungrateful brat to parents that actually seemed to genuinely love him and care about him? Oh, oh no. Metzli grew angry and stepped in without thinking. “What the hell is the matter with you, Milo?” They growled, defending his parents. “They’re just asking if you’re okay and you’re acting like a fucking asshole!”

Anger rose and rose from the pit of Metzli’s stomach, straight to their chest. Milo was acting as if his parents just yelled at him, or even put him down. They weren’t having any of it. Not when they knew what it was truly like to not have parents that loved them.

Milo fell silent, stunned into submission by Metzli stepping between himself, and his family. He could see that his parents were equally as surprised. The three Summers watched, listening as the vampire began to berate him for his frustration. Any confusion, or curiosity was very quickly washed away, and he found it was suddenly very easy to direct his anger towards his friend. How could Metzli assume to understand the situation after hearing less than two minutes of a conversation? How could they call him out when they didn’t know what he had been put through by the two people standing opposite him? He loved his parents, he wasn’t afraid to admit that. But having parents who wanted to change certain aspects of who he was, aspects that weren’t hurting anybody, was painful. He hated it. Why couldn’t they just accept him? All of him. “No, they’re not.” He snapped. “They’re trying to work out how many drugs are in my system.” Even if they were concerned for him, the question would be at the forefront of their minds. “And whether or not I’m going to embarrass them in front of their colleagues. Colleagues they decided to talk to about their son being an addict.” How many times had he come home to find new leaflets, and studies on the kitchen table? Notes from nurses, and doctors his parents were close with about how best to handle a child with an addiction. Only they didn’t have a child with an addiction. “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t get to stand there and call me an asshole.”

“And so what if they are?!” Metzli snapped back, no longer holding off any of their words or emotions. They got into Milo’s bubble, looming over him to intimidate. “Are they locking you in a fucking basement?!” Hands pushed Milo backwards, not quite hard enough to make him fall. “Are they beating you until you bleed?!” Another step forward, another push back. “Are they leaving scars all over you?!”

Anger pushed and pushed, taking them to their breaking point. Metzli may not know exactly the relationship the family had, but it obviously stemmed from a place of love. To see someone be so ungrateful and even cruel against that made them snap. Milo’s shirt was now firmly grasped into fists as they raised him off the ground with ease. “No! They are showing you love and care! Something you obviously are taking for granted!”

Tears streamed down their caramel face, and hands were on Metzli’s shoulders—it was Milo’s parents. Eyes softened when they turned and made eye contact with them, and they let Milo go. “Even now, they are trying to protect you,” words were strained and wet behind hot tears. A small crowd of nurses and doctors began to form, but they continued. “You don’t get to stand there and act like your parents are hurting you when you don’t even know what that really feels like. When you have parents that want you and care for you enough to make sure you stick around.”

Pain was painted on their face, full of sorrow and disdain for what they had witnessed and what they had experienced. Closing their eyes for a few seconds, they sobbed softly and walked a few feet away to recollect themselves.

Milo’s eyes widened as Metzli descended on him. He realised there wasn’t just anger in their voice, but aggression too, and he curled in on himself, a subconscious attempt to make himself small. Forced to retreat, he stumbled backwards, his chest stinging where Metzli had laid their hands on him. He wasn’t expecting to be pushed, to be physically challenged in front of his parents, but there was nothing he could say. He wasn’t about to apologise. If anything Metzli should apologise for making so many assumptions. “Stop it.” He demanded, regaining his balance, and trying to sound firm in his order. Taking another step back when his friend decided to push him for a second time, he only felt his anger surge. This wasn’t fair, nothing about this was fair. As if being in the presence of his parents wasn’t difficult enough, Metzli was determined to make it worse. “Metzli- stop!” He said again, scrambling to grasp at their hands as they lifted him easily from the floor. It was a terrifying sensation, finding himself so out of control. The toes of his shoes slipped against the linoleum floor, desperately trying to find purchase. For a brief moment he worried they were going to throw him backwards, do something to further draw attention to their unnatural strength, but then his mom rested a careful hand against their shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.

“I don’t really know what’s going on here between you two… but this is a hospital, this isn’t appropriate.” She said, her voice quiet, as always tinged with disappointment, and hurt. Milo resisted the urge to look her in the eye, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw there. Feet finding solid ground again, he shook Metzli’s hands off of him, brushing down his shirt with a shaky huff of breath. Trying and failing to compose himself. They were crying, but he didn’t care. Not right now. Not in this moment. “Protect me, and change me.” He bit out, edging away from Metzli in case they tried to lift him again. How many times had his parents told him he was wrong? Broken, and damaged... How many times had they told him he had a problem, like they knew him better than he knew himself? They wanted Milo, the perfect, clean and sober son. The son who didn’t exist. Not Milo the disappointment, the son who only ever wanted to have a good time. Turning to face Metzli, he defiantly held their gaze, mustering all of his courage to do so. “I do know what that feels like. Not in the same way you do but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by his mom, who was watching him with fresh tears shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to her colleagues, who were hovering nearby in case security needed to be called, politely making conversation among themselves to offer the family privacy.

“Milo, we don’t want to change you. We’ve never wanted to change you.” She begged him to believe her. “We only ever want you to be okay.” Glancing over to Metzli who had decided to put some distance between themself and the situation, he could see his mom’s heart break for this person she didn’t know. The maternal instinct in her wanting to wrap Metzli in her arms and offer them a loving, undeniably patronising support network. He shook his head, his throat dry, his chest tight. It wasn’t that simple, it was never that simple. Because his version of okay was very different to the version his mom and dad liked to discuss.

“I am okay.” He snapped, finally looking them both in the eye, his gaze shifting between his mom and his dad as they stared at him, looking as lost as he had ever seen them look.

“Milo…” His dad was hesitant to speak, overly aware of the crowd forming, and of Metzli still standing a few feet away from them. He could sense the situation was precarious, and he clearly didn’t want to make things worse. “We just want to get you help. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Let us help you.”

There were those words again. Help. He needed help. Everything that had been building within him became amplified, he could hear every heart machine, every IV drip, every shuffle of paper, every cough, every sneeze. He could smell his dad’s cologne, his mom’s perfume, her hair products. Even their washing detergent was obvious, permeating the air, creating a thick haze of nostalgia, a childhood long left behind. His anger rose in his chest, raw, and hot, and before he knew what he was doing he was shouting as loud as he possibly could. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” It tore out of him, echoing against the sterile walls, and silence fell over the hospital wing. Finally nobody was able to pretend they hadn’t noticed the altercation. He felt tears break free to run down his cheeks, and looked around at the nurses and doctors who had known him since he was in diapers. How many of them had coloured in with him during their lunch breaks, or kept him entertained in their offices by playing I Spy while his mom and dad dealt with emergencies? How many of them used to babysit? Or carry him around on their shoulders, explaining different machines, and what they did to help their patients? What did they think of him now? Did they even recognise him as the same person? Intelligent, curious, determined to become a doctor when he grew up?

His breath coming in short gasps, he took one last look at his family, at the people who had raised him, before pushing past them, needing to get away from the heavy environment, the weight of so many eyes upon him. He didn’t know if Metzli was following him. Why would they? But he didn’t care enough to check.

Fists were balled into fists as Metzli continued to listen idly. Body shook with angry vibrations. For Milo to think that their experiences were even close to similar baffled them to the point of silence. What happened was an overreaction, and they knew that, but it was too late to take it back now. All there was to do was let the family have their not-so-private conversation while they waited a short distance away.

Hearing how the doctors spoke to their son made something form in their chest. Metzli felt jealous. They supposed that fueled their outburst as well—angry at how Milo treated what they had always wanted, what they could never have. At Milo’s snap, they grimaced, hearing the twinge of pain beat in his parent’s hearts. Being alive this long, they knew what despair sounded like within a heart.

Mrs. Summers’ heart rattled and beat erratically, playing off the fearful hurt she felt, while Mr. Summers’ heart pounded with anger that he failed his son. Everyone watched Milo walk away, and Metzli didn’t bother saying anything to him as he passed. Instead, they stepped up to Mrs. Summers, only looking at the ground to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It was weak, soft, and laced with the tears that still fell from their eyes.

Without another word, Metzli turned and went after Milo, still silent as they reached the outside world. The only thing that could be heard was the crunching of gravel beneath hurried steps. “If you think those are bad parents, I’d hate for you to have had mine.” They said finally, with no emotion.

Milo lit a cigarette the moment he was outside, sucking down the smoke as though it could fix all of his problems. The cold night air stung at his cheeks, causing the tear tracks there to burn, and he relished in it. The physical sensations were a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil, though it didn’t take long for Metzli to catch up with him, and bring with them everything he was trying to run from. “I heard you!” He shouted, unable to help himself. He couldn’t lower his voice if he tried. “I heard you apologise to her- you had no right to do that!” He took another long drag, hands shaking with emotion. “Fuck you, Metzli. Fuck you and your bullshit!” He was pacing, almost frantic in his movements as he tried to work away the energy still tense in his muscles. The fear of Metzli punching him, or pushing him, or picking him up. The fear of his parents following him. The anger, and the hurt that radiated throughout his body as he thought about what had just taken place. Fresh tears spilled over, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I don’t think they’re bad parents! Sometimes they can be really fucking good parents, but you have no idea what they put me through- you can’t know!”

Unless they had lived through his own experiences, had to deal with the disappointment, the manipulation, the guilt trips, the interventions, the threats of rehab, the patronising talks, they couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset. Why he longed to keep his family at a distance. He was doing so well. Metzli just had to ruin his progress by running into his mom. Why couldn’t they be more careful? If they had only watched where they were going then chances were he could have slipped away before his mom even realised he was in the same wing. “Fuck!” He kicked at a nearby can on the floor, listening to it as it clattered against the asphalt. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Metzli couldn’t take it anymore, anger had fully peaked. A crushing blow to Milo’s cheek was made by their fist. He fell to the ground with a thud and his cigarette flew somewhere into the darkness. “What did they put you through? Getting you help because they don’t want to watch their son lose himself?” They crouched down next to Milo, a fire was lit in their eyes. “You know what my parents did? I got beat, everyday. And when they were done, I’d get put in the basement. For days. But hey, at least I got a single fucking meal a day, right?”

A shaky huff pushed through from their lungs as they continued to lock eyes with Milo. “Every day they told me how much they hated me and wished I wasn’t born because I ruined their life. And you’re bitching about your parents being worried about you? About trying to help you because they’re scared that you’re hurting yourself? God, Milo. Fuck you.”

Finally breaking away, they stood tall and took a few steps away from Milo, and towards their car. “They’re not even embarrassed of you. They don’t try to hide it, to hide you. But hey, fucking sucks that they have had you take some drug tests so that they could find the best way to love you and help you.” Metzli sneered and continued to walk, not looking back. “Text me when you stop acting like an asshole.”

A car door opened and then shut, followed by an engine turning over. Metzli peeled out, wanting to be rid of the situation. They needed a drink, straight from a body, any body.

Milo yelped in pain, and shock as Metzli’s fist connected with his cheek. Pain spread outwards from the site of impact as he hit the ground hard. Staying sprawled where he landed, gravel cutting into his palms, it took him far too long to process what was happening. Before he knew it, before he could even try to stand up, or take a breath to steady himself, Metzli was crouching before him, spitting venom alongside their words. He could feel their pain, feel how much they were hurting, but he wasn’t comparing their pain to his own. He was trying to show them there were a million ways to hurt. “I don’t have a problem.” He spoke through his teeth, his jaw firmly set as black blood began to drip from his nose. “I’m allowed to be angry, you don’t have the monopoly on this.” Metzli didn’t own familial trauma. Just because they had suffered in a very particular and terrible way, it didn’t mean he couldn’t also suffer. Why was that so difficult to understand?

Holding Metzli’s gaze as they made eye contact with him, he swallowed, reaching up to cuff at the blood now working its way into his mouth. It was cold, bland, and chalky. Nothing like the metallic warmth he was used to. Pulling his knees up to his chest as Metzli finally stood again, he tried to protect himself should they decide to kick him, but apparently he wasn’t worth the effort. His friend turned towards their car, talking over their shoulder as they walked away. Reaching out, he found his lost cigarette, and clumsily picked it up, staring at Metzli’s back as he took a deep breath of smoke. He wanted to say something, anything to make sure he had the final word, but he couldn’t make a sound. So he watched them leave, exhaling, letting the back of his throat burn to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that he felt about as helpless as his parents had looked. I don’t need help. He told himself. I don’t have a problem. The more he said the words, the easier they became to believe.

[susie-dreemurr]

For the ask thing... 6, 19, 22?

6)) What makes Your Turn to Die stand out among any other game?

A lot overall, but what makes it so good to me is how the emotional matters are handled, including portraying the “feminine” way of coping as a good thing and not “weak”. @sip-of-depresso wrote two great metas explaining the maturity of this game in this regard.

Aside of that, the way that none of the deaths (aside of maybe optional ones in ch3 idk I didn’t let any dummy die) are forgotten and the cast honors all of them in some way, letting the dead characters still be relevant either through plot, character connections or both.

19)) What do you think about the dolls throughout the game, from characters like Ranger to the Obstructers in Chapter 3?

Sue and Safalin are humans, however I’ll talk about them anyway.

Sue Miley — Although I do think she’s entertaining enough in all her Early Disney villain glory, she doesn’t make me pay attention to her tbh. So far, she’s just a one-dimensional character, though I do know Nankidai will likely add depth to her post 3-1A.

Rio Ranger — I like him! His sadistic, wacky cartoon villain-like personality is something I enjoy, adding in the depth and sympathy makes the second most real villain so far. And since that villain can be sympathetic, it makes me take them more seriously than villains like Miley. His “death” and actual death scenes do suffer from feeling kind of out of place, but they’re still good despite that.

Safalin — much like Miley, she doesn’t really have much depth. However I like her more because she’s a, well, “two-sided bitch.” I enjoy it when characters seem sympathetic and maybe even good misguided people but are actually bad, manipulative and (for now, tho I won’t complain is she isn’t) unsympathetic. I want to know more about her.

Midori — his potential is KILLING me!!! He’s got so many directions he can go, so many ways he can become a character I consider great!!! (Aside of any potentials, I do feel similar to him as to Miley, though I also have a dislike of him because abusive characters hit kinda close lol)

I don’t care much about Anzu, Kurumaeda or Mai. They’re still okay, I just don’t pay much mind to them for now. I see that changing later, they still got more time after all...Mai’s design and personality do appeal to biromantic little me, she’s cute and I’m cool with the trope “stereotypical ditzy character is actually very competent.” Anzu and Naomichi’s banter is good.

I like Ranmaru due to his relationship with Sara, and it’s funny when he gets all flustered. His personality can be calming to be around but uh. Not much else to say about him.

Shunsuke Hayasaka — Definitely my second favorite dummy! His relationship with Asunaro seems like it is interesting to explore and his dynamic with Gin gives him some points. I really hope he becomes important later on!

Hinako Mushuku — Likely my favorite dummy! Her personality was what made her gain this place, considering she has the exact same type of personality in characters that make me instantly like them! She becomes even more interesting considering the mystery of her painting in That room! Really, what’s not to love?

No comment on Obstructers. They’re barely characters.

22)) How would you rank the other characters? Feel free to explain.

??? I didn’t understand the question lol, sorry. Does this want me to rank the non-doll floormasters? (since the participants are already mentioned in another number of the ask thing) If so, there’s only Gashu left.

Gashu Satou — probably the only character I actually dislike, though it’s not because I think he’s a bad character or anything. Abusive parents just hit kind of close home and he’s pretty realistic, which while it does make him a good character, renders him pretty unlikeable to me.

Hope this was good!

[choicesenthusiast]

Blades of Light and Shadow, Ch. 13 AKA Humanland

What happened this week:

Drake Walker is now irrelevant, because now we have Drake fliers. Actually, drakes are four-legged, wingless creatures. What they were probably going for was a feathered dragon, or even more like a wyvern (two-legged, two-winged creatures). But hey, in your fantasy world, you can call ‘em whatever you want! God, you can hear the fantasy/history nerd oozing from my writing.

Aerin greets us at Humanland, as cheery and confident as ever. Could this be a misdirection leading to his predicted betrayal? I really need to learn to trust people more.

The fifth lore tablet. There are so many aspects to worldbuilding and I can’t believe PB has delivered on so many of them. You can evidently see me gushing over these every time a lore tablet comes up.

Viscount Westonly The High Priest of the Light allows us the day to explore Whitetower with the gang. Nia ponders over what she is to do next once the journey is over.

We finally get Mal’s tragic backstory, and though not as tragic as some of us had hoped for, it still involves a dead parent and a sister, and that’s enough to make us cry just as well.

A night out with Nia, Imtura, and Threep, to discover the wonders of human culture, including but not limited to shopping, cake, and haters.

It’s depresso time! The party reflects on the journey so far- and what’s to come after it’s end, which is very, very soon. Or so they think.

The long awaited kinkytime is finally here. People trade screenshots of all four LI scenes like they’re Pokemon cards or something. It just goes to show how loved all of them are. Enough to let them deflower your babbu, apparently, if you know what I mean.

It’s time for the ritual to end all rituals, but the cost is a sacrifice of few lives in order to complete it. Considering the High Priest tells us this with such glee in his eyes leads us to believe that he is either corrupted, or a sick fuck.

Thoughts:

I cannot even believe I considered waiting until tomorrow to read this chapter. It was just *chef’s kiss*. And we didn’t even have to fight anyone.

The art in this book also continues to astonish me. I’m glad that our *ahem* funding… is paying off well. I would happily offer up diamonds to see that this story is continued. And I know you all have it on your minds too.

So we all agree that the onyx shards form a sword hilt, with the final piece being the pommel, right? And supposedly that’s supposed to be the Blade of Shadow or something? I really hope the Blade of Light is something equally as epic, not something that the humans stored in a backyard weapons shed. Hmm, maybe the power of friendship forms the Blade of Light.

This is a top-tier book with a top-tier plot and top-tier characters and Andrew knows it too. If the primary plot is completed and the Shadow Court is truly defeated, then there will be no reason for a sequel. In conclusion, we’re all praying for a cliffhanger so we can get that Book 2.