#and they kinda turn into one character....

[mywordstovictor]

The Good Place really does say ‘I have wind chimes where my dingdong should be’ and also no one is beyond redemption because change is fundamental to being human and people can have understandable reasons for being shitty and still have a responsibility to try not to be shitty in the same breath. They make the case that there is potential for good in all of us and we are therefore deserving of support in finding that good through the medium of dick jokes. It’s not that they turn some guy into demon goo, then a second later they talk about the Nature of Morality, they do it simultaneously and they use the demon goo to delve deeper into the Nature of Morality. Like how is a middle aged woman with a crack problem who spends most of her time masturbating in a suburban home set up for her in the middle of the afterlife as a compromise between pseudo heaven and pseudo hell also an enlightening examination of the perils of nihilism? Each of the characters has a fatal flaw that’s explored with both humour and remarkable sincerity and their flaws were literally fatal. Off screen. Before the first episode. They directly and repeatedly tell you what the show’s themes are and it’s funny? One of the few examples where ignoring the advice to ‘show, not tell' works. Good Place so self-aware that it laughs at its own self-awareness. It’s a weird show. Yeah the humour is weird and the plot is weird and the world building is straight up absurd, but it also functions so completely differently than how TV is supposed to.

Anyway, Chidi’s constant overthinking is kinda relatable

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

IS IT LOVE ? KATSUKI ! —☆ ROUTE 100% WALKTHROUGH : ALL ROUTES UNLOCKED (+ TRUE ENDING ! )☆—

cashmoneyyysstuff's big 6K event!!

synopsis : uh oh ! looks like your boyfriend's been hit by a quirk that turned him into. . a bunch of otome game character archetypes ?! will they be able to win your love—and most importantly, will he ever get back to normal ?!!

— ☆ WALKTHROUGH ☆—

ROUTE 1. "fire breathing—wait, haven't i seen this before ?!" - the dragon's route

ROUTE 2. "what kinda dog is that ?!" - the werewolf's route

ROUTE 3. "so why do good girls like bad guys ?!" - the biker's route

ROUTE 4. "i'm just a teenage dirtbag baby, like you !!" - the loner's route

ROUTE 5. "my love, mine all mine ! "- katsuki's route (true ending !)

an.: FIRST EVER EVENT I PEEP ??? i hope yall enjoy this just as much as i do since this is my first ever event :D ! i loved this idea lol—if yall are truly familiar w the culture yall remember those old app store is it love otome games, which is what a based this off of !! episode could NEVAAA (i never actually finished any of the ones i downloaded lol)

[starlightkun]

savvy ❧ teaser

❧ teaser word count: 822 | full fic: 12.2k ❧ warnings: cursing, they go kinda skinny dipping at one point (wearing underwear) ❧ genre: fluff, a little suggestive, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint, summer camp au, dryad jaemin, human reader, camp counselors jaemin & reader, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ estimated release: friday, february 14, 2025, 6:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

You knew you were getting closer to the river when you could hear running water, and the air around you started feeling less heavy and a lot fresher. The trail under your feet turned sandy as you finally emerged from the trees onto a shoreline by the river.

You immediately froze, though, not expecting to see somebody else at the riverside. It was a man pulling himself up out of the river onto a rocky formation. He was shirtless, his biceps, shoulders, and all other sorts of muscles flexing along with his motions. His eyes were closed as he shook his wet hair out, then pushed the damp locks back from his face with both of his hands. The sunlight made him look like he was glowing, every drop of water that ran down his body sparkling like a jewel, and you couldn’t make yourself look away.

He looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. Which you supposed he had, or one in particular at least, you realized, as his eyes opened and settled on you as if he’d known you were there the whole time. They were the color of ferns, but shifted to a lighter mossy green under the dappling of the sunlight. Dryad. Son of Pan. Or so the legends go.

“Hi?” Despite his voice pitching up to make the greeting sound like a question, the wide, cocky smile on his face told you that he definitely knew that you’d been stood there ogling him for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Sorry!” You cringed at the sound of your own voice. “I didn’t realize there was anybody out here.”

The dryad started picking his way down the rocks towards you carefully, grabbing something off one of them as he went. A neon yellow shirt. When he finally dropped onto the ground a few feet in front of you, he gave the shirt a twist to wring out a few drops of water.

“I’m Jaemin,” he said, gripping the shirt even tighter and giving it another twist for good measure. You pretended like you didn’t notice the veins in his hands or the way his forearms tautened with the motion. He shook out the shirt to show you the logo on the front of it, a smiling evergreen tree that matched yours. “I’m also a counselor at Camp Pineleaf this year. We must’ve gone to different training sessions, huh? Anyway, I was walking the perimeter before the kids got here and I kind of—”

Jaemin stopped, a sheepish sort of look coming to his face as he ducked his head almost in embarrassment.

You looked around in confusion. “You what?”

“I fell in the river.”

“You fell in?” You stared at him. You couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. What kind of dryad—

“I know, what kind of dryad is falling in rivers?” He pulled the shirt on over his head, which you could now see he had cut the sleeves off of. “Aren’t we supposed to be connected to nature and all that? I still don’t know how it happened, one second I was just climbing the rocks and surveying the river, next thing I knew, I was in the river. Then you showed up.”

Clumsy dryad. That was a new one.

“I’m Y/N.” Introducing yourself was only fair since he’d already given you his name. “Seems like we’re head counselors of the Swallowtails this year, Jaemin.”

It was then that he seemed to notice the matching colors of your shirts, and his features lit up in recognition. “Hey, looks like it!”

You checked your watch. “We should be getting back, the kids are going to be arriving soon.”

“Right!”

“Besides, if I have to stay out here any longer, I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion.” You groaned, pulling the front of your shirt off from where it had stuck to your skin, using it to fan yourself. “And there’s no way I’m dying out here and risking getting my ghost stuck in the middle of nowhere for forever instead of somewhere cool.”

Jaemin suddenly had a look of alarm on his face, and you looked around with an eyebrow raised.

“What? Something I said?”

“No, sorry, thought I heard something,” he shook his head. “It was just a vole. Lead the way.”

You hadn’t heard anything other than the usual forest sounds, but chalked it up to superior magic hearing, and started back on the trail to the main camp.

“So, why did you come out here, Y/N?”

“Same as you, walking the perimeter.”

“And… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but what are you?”

You looked at him curiously. “Can’t you tell? I’m a human.”

He blinked as if shaken from a trance. Then he offered you another heart-stopping smile. “Right, of course. Sorry about that. Must’ve hit my head when I fell in the river.”

“Must’ve…”

⤷ anthology masterlist | blog masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[shadowxamyweek]

Where Does the Headcanon That Silver Is Shadow and Amy’s Kid Come From?

Much like Shadow calling Amy, 'Rose,' Silver being Shadow and Amy's kid is everywhere. If nothing else, he's often relegated to a distant descendant. When did we all agree though that this was just kinda a thing? To answer that, we're going to have to back up to Dragon Ball.

Sega has never hidden its love of Dragon Ball. Much of what is now Sonic Canon just started out as Sega artists and game designers delighting in some of the cool stuff Dragon Ball does, including but not limited to how the 7 chaos emeralds parallel the 7 dragon balls, and how Sonic's super form mirrors Goku's. This is important to keep in mind because there's another set of parallels that are being drawn when the, 'Silver is Shadow and Amy's kid,' headcanon comes into play. In Dragon Ball, there's an villain turned anti-hero/secondary protagonist called Vegeta and a very bubbly, very domineering woman named Bulma. The two get together and have a kid, named Trunks. Trunks ends up time traveling, specifically going back in time to prevent certain tragedies from happening. Aaaaand then once again, in Sonic, we have Shadow, being a villain turned anti-hero/secondary protagonist, and Amy, being a bubbly and domineering girl. We've also got Silver, who ends up time traveling, specifically going back in time to prevent certain tragedies from happening. *gestures loosely* People on Sega's payroll have noticed the parallels and commented on them as well. In 2008, on his Bumble King website, Ian Flynn answered some fan questions about the subject:

Later, in 2023, Flynn and his cohost Crouse over on the @bumblekast answered a question about this again:

(It's at 1:26:13, just in case I messed up the link) ---- TRANSCRIPT Crouse: Right, here's another question. This one is from ChaosSonic1. "This might kill this headcanon for others, but it always bugs me: people constantly consider Shadow and Amy as Silver's parents but that would be impossible due to two things. One, Shadow was in prison for 200 years. Thoughts?" ...That's only one thing but okay. [Laughter] Flynn: It is something that's come up because there were a lot of weird parallels, number one that silver was, you know, decidedly based on Trunks and I think it's quite obvious that Shadow is the kind of Vegeta of this group. It makes Amy default to the Bulma, which isn't really solid. I mean, if anything, Tails is the Bulma of the group, but you know there are no solid one to ones throughout the whole thing. You started trying to get too specific with it and falls apart. There was other stuff like-... something in Sonic and the Black Knight-... Amy was Nimune and Shadow was Lancelot and Silver was-... Galahad... Point being, within Autherial 1:27:40 within Arthurian, lore Silver's character was the child of Shadow and Amy's characters, which kind of made everyone go, 'beg pardon?' (Brief pause, this is slightly incorrect. Nimune is both the singular and plural name for water nymphs, one, or all of which, raised Lancelot. Galahad is *only* Lance's child. Again, like Dragon Ball, not a one to one, but enough to cock an eyebrow.) Flynn: There's also like the kind of vague mysticism around Amy and the fact that Silver can do Chaos Control so it's like, did he inherit Shadow's Chaos Control and his psychic powers from Amy? And it's all like extremely loose vague breadcrumbs that don't really so much make a line as they just are kind of scattered in the water for the ducks to eat so no, it doesn't really make any sense because like you said, in that timeline, Shadow was sealed away for like the duration and it's still 200 years. I don't think Amy was, you know, secretly carrying Shadow's love baby that long. That doesn't add up...- I mean, who knows. I mean, if that is your headcanon, if that's your ship, if that's how you want to connect the dots, go nuts. I'm not going to shoot it down.

Crouse: But there's also the whole thing, like time travel is a thing.

Flynn: Yeah.

Crouse: A lot of other things are things that could happen, like- [Laugh].

Flynn: And Amy's associated with Little Planet a lot, I get it, you can- you could put the pieces together that way if you wanted. I just don't think that's what Sega's doing with it.

Crouse: Well, no, but you know, who cares what Sega's doing except you I guess. You have to. Flynn: I do. It's part of my job.

Crouse: You have to care, but the rest of us now, we don't have to. Screw whatever Sega's doing, we can do whatever we want. My headcanon.

---- (This evidence I have to thank @shadamyheadcanons for. I remembered reading this ages ago, but couldn't remember *where*. She also provided the Bumblekast interview. ) I'm also going to point out, as many have before, that Sonic plays loose and fast with what Chaos Energy/Magic/Science/Whatever can and cannot do, including but not limited to time stuff as evidence in Sonic 06, where Silver debuted. I've also talked before that just because we see a future based off of the current events and trajectory of those events in 06, that does not mean that said-future is set in stone, and may very well change if the characters themselves make different decisions.

And that's *only* arguments for the headcanon that Silver is, in fact, their child. That doesn't include just how much more liberty there is in the headcanon that Silver is some distant relative, who's bloodline is intrinsically tied to Shadow and Amy. So yeah! That's where the headcanon comes from! It's moments like these that I can appreciate the lack of details in Sonic. That's not a thing I say very often, but in situations like these, it really allows for an open imagination of the different parts and pieces, and how they all fit together. Sonic is fun like that, and I love it for this reason <3

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

That... Sounds slightly like it's a reach? However, I do understand the angle. I mean, hell, my own mom wanted to be a cop, but when she was applying she decided against it since back then they only allowed women to do paperwork. I don't recall the movie well enough to know if there's even any other female officer in the story, so I don't know how well this checks out, but eh. The whole story IS kinda rooted in prejudices, though, so wouldn't that still be the point?

Like. Judy can't be a cop because she's a small weak unintimidating herbivore? Meanwhile carnivores are seen as borderline criminals because of how their "natural instincts" are (pretty sure that was, at one point, the same reasoning used to prosecute and/or enslave black people). It's all very on the nose about it, maybe to the point of being offensive, but I'm sure the movie wanted to say something good with it. You know, the small, weak, not-at-all scary rabbit turns out to be a decent cop, the carnivore criminal is redeemed bc he's actually inherently good and the grand mastermind behind all the challenges they face turns out to be an unassuming sheep lady, breaking the stereotype of only carnivores being criminals.

Idk. It's all very but I think it still tries to tell the viewer something good. Getting angry at the fact that a character faces some issue while ignoring that the issue is something they're meant to overcome is sort of goofy, I think. Like those people who wanna be trans-inclusive but they go so far with it that they loop back around to not including trans characters for fear of cocking it up or because they write a lot of trauma and shit.

having a normal one on twitter

[lore-grandma]

You know I feel like games like Tokyo debunker and twisted wonderland don’t use mc being sick with the flu while shit is going down as a plot device and that’s so unfortunate. Like can you imagine mc tea in hand watching a show, maybe playing video games, hell sleep for once and there’s an overblot or a really overwhelming investigation going on. I think really the only thing that this would help with developing the story is that it would force the characters to deal with their problems without the support of mc. Sure they may not need mc to battle, but the support mc provides is something the characters miss dearly when the battle is over. Can you imagine one of the guys turning around looking for praise from mc only to realize that mc is not there. And listen could this literally just be what happens when mc returns home or dies? Sure, but it’d be a pretty decent angst/comfort story. I think something that would also make such a plot interesting is if mc had an argument with the character. Anyways really the only issue is that there’s not a lot going on with mc. Sure if there was an argument then the guilt would eat them up inside. But that doesn’t matter because as far as mc knows they’re fine. It would be kinda interesting if mc was a workaholic, and like the staff have to literally pin mc down to prevent them from doing dangerous shit while they’re hardly coherent. But alas these game companies are too pussy to ensure mc has a personality that isn’t super fucking nice. (Also literally no one would willingly deal with the shit these mc’s deal with. So fair… I guess.)

[acracana]

//twst book 7 ch.12 spoilers

My Word Vomit on Ch. 12

I had a feeling with how they kept bringing up how much Silver has been using his um (over 20 times now) in the last chapter that there would be some type of repercussion for him. After this chapter, I’m 99.9% sure that they’re building up to it.

Idk what the repercussions would be, though. Maybe he just won’t be able to use his um for a while and his magic is depleted (though Ace’s um might solve the dream hopping part if that’s 's the case). There’s a chance he overblots ig but I doubt that’s the route the game takes. Silver reawakens his curse and falls into a deep sleep again? Weird turn but sure, I could see it happening under the right writing.

we also still don’t have Silver ssr card for book 7 (malleus and silver better be getting cards). I feel like we’ll be wrapping up book 7 soon. Hopefully, it’ll be less than like 50 more chapters. It’ll be interesting to see how they incorporate “knight of dreams” and “king of the abyss” for them. I sorta want to see them clash as a parallel to their parents, but I also think they should also just hug it out and talk about their feelings about Lilia leaving them. In the end, I feel like Silver understands Malleus’s feelings the most because they are losing the same person.

Ace’s discovery of his UM was so well executed. He’s having his character development guys 🥹. I didn’t think it would happen this quickly after his dream though—I thought we’d get a couple of more chapters without it. It’s very op, but I wonder if he needs to have a similar magic pool for him to completely use the other person’s UM. If not, then there’s the trump card for defeating Malleus but I really hope it’s not that easy.

I have a feeling that now that Ace has his um, it’ll play a big part in the fight against Malleus—whether he uses it for Malleus’s magic, Silver’s magic, or even someone else’s, but I hope that, in the end, the main conflict is between and resolved with the diasomnia members. For a book whose main themes revolves around them, family, and their lack of communication, the message has kinda been pushed to the back burner as they hopped between other characters’ dreams.

ALTHOUGH, I think Riddle’s Dream is good to tie back the book’s theme of family (maybe even its theme of forgiveness, but idk). Riddle obviously cares for his parents, and I don’t doubt that he still loves his mother despite everything. I feel like the fandom treats Mrs. Rosehearts as a one-dimensional villain (she’s a horrible mother, don’t get me wrong), but she acts as she does because she genuinely thinks that is what is good for her son and his future. But she ignores/dismisses her son’s attempts to communicate his wants/needs to her, which I feel is the main issue. I could draw some parallels between her and Lilia’s parenting methods, but I’ll open that can of worms on another day.

Ok, rant done. This chapter was so good, and the cliff-hanger is also *chef’s kiss*. I’m so excited for the book to be coming to and end soon. I still hope they go to crowley’s dream just because it would be funny (lore drop pls).

[amethystarachnid]

I didn’t see a list of characters you wouldn’t write for so I wanted to request a fic with Peter quill or Johnny storm, Ik it’s kinda random lol but it’s just something different since I haven’t seen them much.

ONLY PHYSICAL

⤷ JOHNNY STORM

ᯓ★ Pairing: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, spicy, some drama but also some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Summary: you hate Johnny Storm, hate his smirk and his jokes, that's what you keep telling yourself. But one night, as you're both drunk, you end up sleeping together...Which then leads to a particular arrangement between you two...What will happen after that?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.3k

ᯓ★ TW(s): spicy, lots of spicy scenes but nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Omg, Johnny my love, one of the first marvel character I loved <3 Also, since the ask didn't specify anything I wrote it using my ideas and it's been too long since I saw the fantastic 4 so some things may be inaccurate or wrong, sorry <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

It’s almost laughable how much you can’t stand Johnny Storm.

From the moment you join the team—a reluctant addition after Reed practically begs for your expertise in energy manipulation—Johnny makes it his mission to get under your skin. And he succeeds. Infuriatingly so. He doesn’t even try to hide it, flashing his smirk every time he catches you glaring at him, tossing out sarcastic remarks with the ease of someone who knows just how attractive he is.

“You know,” he drawls one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of the lab where you’re trying to finish a recalibration of Sue’s invisibility suit, “I think I finally figured it out.”

You don’t bother looking up, tightening the screw on the prototype as you mutter, “I don’t have time for this, Storm.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he insists, stepping inside without invitation. His voice drips with mock seriousness, the kind that instantly makes your shoulders tense. “You’re into me.”

You actually laugh at that, short and sharp, finally turning to face him. He’s grinning like he’s just said the most brilliant thing in the world, his white teeth practically gleaming. His blond hair is tousled in a way that you suspect takes effort to look effortless, and he’s wearing that fitted T-shirt that always seems to cling a little too perfectly to his chest.

“In your dreams,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, definitely,” he replies without missing a beat, his smirk deepening. “But don’t worry, you make frequent appearances. Very flattering ones, I might add.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t pop out of your skull. “How do you even fit through doorways with an ego that big?”

“I manage,” he says with a wink, strolling closer to your workstation. You step in front of it, blocking his access, but he doesn’t stop, leaning in just enough to invade your space. His cologne is annoyingly pleasant, a mix of something warm and spicy that makes your nose betray you by liking it. “Come on, you’re telling me you don’t feel this… tension?”

“The only tension I feel is homicidal,” you deadpan.

“Hot,” he says, as if that’s a compliment, tilting his head to look at you like he’s assessing just how much he can push you before you snap. It’s a game to him, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Do you actually have a reason for being here,” you ask, “or are you just here to annoy me?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” He leans back against the counter, resting his elbows on it as he watches you with infuriatingly amused eyes. “But if you must know, Reed wants to see us in the conference room. Something about a mission briefing.”

“And he sent you to get me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Was no one else available?”

“Oh, he sent Ben first,” Johnny says, grinning. “But I told him I’d handle it. Figured you’d appreciate the company.”

“Right,” you mutter, grabbing your tools and tossing them into your kit. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you brush past him, he falls into step beside you, his presence like an annoying shadow that won’t go away. The elevator ride to the conference room is painfully silent, though you can feel him watching you the entire time. It takes every ounce of willpower not to snap at him, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he irritates you.

When the doors open, you stride out ahead of him, eager to put some distance between you. But Johnny, being Johnny, catches up effortlessly, his long strides matching yours.

“You know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think this whole ‘hating me’ thing is just a cover.”

“For what?” you ask, not bothering to hide the exasperation in your tone.

“For how badly you want me,” he replies, his grin practically criminal. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight it.”

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare that could cut through steel. He stops too, clearly relishing the reaction, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

“Johnny,” you say, your voice icy, “if I wanted you, you’d know it. Because I’d be dead. From shame.”

For a split second, there’s a flicker of something in his expression—surprise, maybe—but then it’s gone, replaced by that insufferable grin again. “Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest like you’ve wounded him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“I don’t,” you snap, turning on your heel and storming into the conference room.

Of course, Johnny follows, but he doesn’t say anything more. Not until you’re all seated around the table, Reed diving into a detailed explanation of the energy anomalies that have been popping up in the city. You’re trying to focus, taking notes on your tablet, but you can feel Johnny’s gaze on you again. It’s like a physical weight, burning against your skin, and it takes everything in you not to whip around and tell him to knock it off.

When the meeting finally ends, you practically bolt for the door, but Johnny catches up to you again, falling into step beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” he says, his tone softer now, less teasing. It’s almost disarming, and you glance at him warily.

“What?”

“You okay?” he asks, and for a moment, you think he might actually be serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you reply, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just checking. You seemed… tense.”

You stop walking, turning to face him with a frown. “Are you messing with me again?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but there’s something almost genuine in his expression now. “Not this time. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you point out.

“Details,” he says with a shrug, and just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by his usual smirk. “But seriously, if you ever need to blow off some steam…” He lets the sentence hang in the air, his tone laced with innuendo, and you groan.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, walking away before he can say anything else.

But as you make your way back to the lab, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Johnny than the cocky exterior he projects. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. Because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Johnny Storm is the last person you’d ever want to… feel anything for. Right?

The mission is straightforward in theory but chaotic in execution—par for the course when Johnny Storm is involved. A rogue tech company has been messing with unstable energy sources, creating erratic power surges across the city. Reed’s plan is for Ben and Johnny to infiltrate the lab while Sue provides cover and you, stationed at HQ with a direct link to the team, guide them through it.

“Johnny, focus,” you snap into the earpiece as he sprints ahead of Ben for the fifth time. “You’re going to trip an alarm.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice annoyingly breezy. “I’ve got this.”

You grit your teeth, fingers flying across the keyboard as you monitor their progress. “I’m not your sweetheart. And if you ‘got this,’ you wouldn’t need me to tell you that there’s a motion sensor three feet ahead of you.”

Johnny pauses just in time, glancing around until he spots the small device in the corner. “See? Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Just shut up and follow Ben,” you mutter.

“I think she likes me,” Johnny says, undoubtedly grinning. You can hear the smirk in his tone, and it makes your blood boil.

“Johnny,” Sue’s voice cuts in, sharp and no-nonsense. “Stop antagonizing her and get back on task.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny replies, sounding far too pleased with himself.

Despite his antics, the mission goes smoothly. Ben tears through the reinforced doors like they’re made of cardboard, Johnny disables the main console with a burst of fire, and Sue uses her force fields to contain the energy surges until Reed’s stabilization device is activated. By the time they’re back at HQ, everything is under control.

“Well done, team,” Reed says, smiling as he powers down the main systems. “That could’ve been much worse.”

“Yeah, thanks to me,” Johnny says, striding into the room like he’s just saved the world single-handedly. He winks at you as he passes. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you buy me a drink as a thank-you.”

You snort. “In your dreams, Storm.”

“Every night,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Later, when the adrenaline wears off, someone suggests a celebration. It’s unclear who, but you suspect Johnny has something to do with it because before you know it, the common area is transformed into a makeshift party space. Reed grumbles about the amount of alcohol, but Sue waves him off, promising to keep an eye on things.

You don’t intend to drink much—just enough to relax after the chaos of the day—but Johnny, of course, has other plans.

“You’re way too sober,” he declares, plopping onto the couch beside you with a beer in hand. “Come on, live a little.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, taking a small sip of your drink.

“Nope,” he says, grabbing a shot glass and pouring you something that smells like regret. “One shot. For me. As a thank-you for not letting me die out there.”

“Pretty sure I deserve the thanks,” you retort, but you take the shot anyway, if only to shut him up.

It’s a mistake. The burn of the alcohol hits you hard, and Johnny’s triumphant grin only fuels your annoyance. But then another shot follows, and another, until you lose count. Somewhere along the way, the tension between you and Johnny shifts. The teasing is still there, but it’s less biting, more playful. You’re laughing at his ridiculous jokes, and he’s leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours.

“You know,” he says, his voice lower than usual, “you’re kind of fun when you loosen up.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, though your tone lacks its usual sharpness.

The party starts to wind down, with Ben carrying a passed-out Reed to his room and Sue calling it a night. You and Johnny, however, remain on the couch, the space between you shrinking with each passing minute. The alcohol buzz makes you bold, and before you realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning toward him.

“Did you just...” He blinks at you, his expression somewhere between surprised and amused. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” you say, emboldened by the warmth in your veins. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His grin turns downright wicked. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

And then he’s kissing you. It’s sudden and electric, his lips capturing yours with a heat that leaves you breathless. You respond instinctively, your hands tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated at first, both of you too drunk to be graceful, but the intensity makes up for it. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer until you’re practically in his lap.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice husky.

“Right back at you,” you reply, tugging his shirt up over his head.

Somehow, you end up in his room, the walk there a blur of stolen kisses and clumsy touches. By the time you reach the bed, you’re both breathless, your clothes scattered across the floor. Johnny is surprisingly gentle, his hands exploring your skin like he’s committing every inch of you to memory. But there’s still that cocky edge to him, the teasing smirk that never quite leaves his face.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“Because you’re insufferable,” you manage to say, though the words lack conviction when his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Mm, and yet here we are,” he replies, his grin evident against your skin.

The rest of the night is a blur of heat and intensity, a tangle of limbs and whispered confessions you’ll barely remember in the morning. All you know is that, for once, you don’t hate Johnny Storm. At least not entirely.

You wake slowly, your senses hazy and dulled by what must have been way too much alcohol last night. Your head throbs faintly, and the warm, soft cocoon of blankets threatens to lull you back into unconsciousness. For a brief moment, everything feels peaceful.

And then you realize there’s an arm draped across your stomach.

Your eyes snap open, and the first thing you notice is that you’re not in your own bed. The second thing is that someone’s pressed against you, their face nuzzled into your chest. You blink rapidly, trying to process the situation, but your sluggish brain takes its sweet time piecing things together.

The arm is muscular, the weight of it familiar in a way that makes your cheeks flush. And then there’s the golden blond hair brushing against your collarbone, the faint scent of cologne mixed with... smoke?

Oh. Oh, no.

Johnny Storm is sprawled across you, completely naked, his legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Your breath hitches, and you freeze, trying not to move or make a sound. But the realization hits you like a freight train: You slept with Johnny Storm. You slept with Johnny freaking Storm.

Panic rises in your chest as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back. The party, the drinks, the teasing banter that had somehow turned into a kiss... and then more. A lot more. Your face burns as you remember the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he’d looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You’re mortified.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Unfortunately, it’s just loud enough to wake him.

Johnny stirs against you, letting out a sleepy groan as he shifts slightly. His arm tightens around you, and he murmurs something unintelligible before finally lifting his head to look at you through half-lidded eyes. His expression is groggy at first, but then a slow, lazy grin spreads across his face as realization dawns.

“Well, good morning,” he says, his voice husky with sleep.

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I—what—why are you—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your flustered state. “You’re gonna have to use words, sweetheart.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, yanking the blanket up to your chest as if that’ll somehow fix this. “What the hell happened?!”

He chuckles, completely unbothered by the situation—or his nakedness, for that matter. Propping himself up on one elbow, he watches you with an infuriatingly smug expression. “You really don’t remember?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I remember... bits,” you admit reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, let me fill in the gaps,” he says, leaning closer. His grin is downright sinful now, and you want to smack it off his face. “You couldn’t keep your hands off me. Not that I blame you, of course. I mean, look at me.”

“Stop talking,” you snap, shoving him away and scooting to the edge of the bed. Your heart is pounding, and you feel like you might actually die of embarrassment.

Johnny doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, lying back against the pillows with his hands behind his head. The sheets pool around his hips, and you make a point of looking anywhere but at him.

“Come on,” he says, his tone teasing. “It’s not the end of the world. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“That’s not the point!” you say, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “This shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”

The word wipes the grin off his face, and for a moment, he looks almost... disappointed. But then he shrugs, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place. “If you say so.”

You scramble to find your clothes, pulling them on as quickly as possible. Your shirt is wrinkled beyond saving, and you can’t find one of your socks, but you don’t care. You just need to get out of here before anyone sees you leaving Johnny’s room.

“I think we should forget this ever happened,” you say firmly, not looking at him as you tug your shoes on.

“Forget?” he echoes, sitting up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s better for both of us if we just... pretend it didn’t happen.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, though there’s a flicker of something—disappointment? Annoyance?—in his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you say, though the knot in your stomach suggests otherwise.

Grabbing your things, you head for the door, pausing only to glance back at him one last time. He’s still sitting there, the sheets draped loosely around his waist, watching you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. But you shake it off and leave, determined to put as much distance between you and this mess as possible.

The hallway is blessedly empty, and you make a beeline for your room, praying no one saw you. You don’t know how you’re going to face the team today—or Johnny, for that matter—but one thing is certain: you need a very, very strong cup of coffee.

You make it to the kitchen without running into anyone, thank God. The lingering buzz of alcohol in your system combined with the weight of what just happened makes your head feel like it’s caught in a vise. All you want is coffee—a steaming, bitter cup of something strong enough to drown out the memories of last night.

You pour yourself a mug, gripping it like a lifeline as you lean against the counter. The warmth seeps into your palms, grounding you.

But no matter how much caffeine you consume, you can’t shake the overwhelming wrongness of this morning. You slept with Johnny Storm. Johnny Storm. The most arrogant, insufferable, smug—

“Morning,” Sue’s cheerful voice interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

You nearly choke on your coffee as she walks in, looking fresh and chipper as ever. “Morning,” you manage, clearing your throat and trying not to sound guilty.

She eyes you curiously as she grabs a granola bar from the counter. “You look... tired. Did you stay up late?”

The memory of Johnny’s mouth on yours, his hands roaming your body, flashes through your mind, and you nearly drop your mug. “Uh, yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sue frowns, concerned. “Are you okay? You look kind of... flushed.”

You take a long sip of coffee to buy yourself some time. “I’m fine,” you say quickly. “Just... had a lot on my mind.”

Her concern doesn’t waver, but thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” she says, her tone warm.

You nod, grateful for the out. “Thanks, Sue. I’m good.”

She flashes you a smile and heads off, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping.

This is going to be hell.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. You manage to avoid Johnny, though the tension gnawing at your gut doesn’t let up. When lunchtime rolls around, you reluctantly join the team in the common area, knowing it’ll look suspicious if you keep hiding.

Johnny’s already there when you walk in, lounging on the couch like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s laughing at something Ben said, his usual cocky grin firmly in place. For a brief, insane moment, you wonder if he’s already forgotten about this morning.

But then his gaze flicks to you, and for the briefest second, something unreadable passes over his face. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual teasing smirk.

“Hey, there’s Sleeping Beauty,” he calls out, leaning back with his arms draped over the couch. “Rough night?”

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to act normal. “No rougher than yours, I’m sure,” you reply, taking a seat as far from him as possible.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your attempt at a poker face. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I slept pretty well.”

You glare at him, your jaw tightening. You’re this close to throwing something at his stupid, smug face, but Sue and Reed are right there, oblivious to the subtext.

Johnny doesn’t push further, but you catch him stealing glances at you throughout lunch. It’s maddening—he’s acting like nothing happened, like you didn’t wake up with him draped over you this morning. And somehow, that makes it worse.

The next few days follow the same infuriating pattern. Johnny keeps up his usual antics, teasing and flirting like always, but there’s no hint that he’s holding anything over your head. If anything, he seems to be going out of his way to act normal.

You, on the other hand, are a mess. Every time he smirks at you, every time he makes a stupid comment or throws a casual wink in your direction, you’re reminded of how his lips felt on yours, how his skin felt beneath your hands.

It’s impossible to focus.

It’s especially bad when you’re around Sue. Every time she talks to you, the guilt gnaws at your insides like a living thing. She’s so kind, so thoughtful, and here you are, harboring the world’s most awkward secret about her brother.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she says one afternoon while the two of you are reviewing some mission protocols.

You freeze, your pen hovering over the paper in front of you. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Sue gives you a skeptical look. “Really? Because you’ve been zoning out all week.”

“I’m just tired,” you say quickly, forcing a smile.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go.

Johnny, of course, doesn’t make things any easier. If anything, he seems to enjoy your discomfort. He keeps teasing you in front of the others, his remarks innocuous enough that no one else picks up on them, but laced with just enough subtext to make your cheeks burn.

“Y/N, you’re blushing,” he says one day during a training session, his grin infuriatingly smug. “What, can’t handle the heat?”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to throw something at him. “I’m fine,” you snap.

“Oh, I know you are,” he replies, his tone dripping with innuendo.

Sue smacks him on the arm. “Johnny, leave her alone.”

“What?” he says innocently, holding up his hands. “I’m just being supportive.”

Your hands curl into fists, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. If he can act like nothing happened, then so can you.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But the truth is, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up. Every time Johnny looks at you, every time he makes a stupid joke or flashes that infuriating grin, you’re reminded of what happened—and of the fact that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to forget.

It’s nearly midnight, and the quiet hum of the compound settles over you like a blanket. Everyone else is in their rooms, the lights dimmed, the hallways silent. You’re in your own room, pacing back and forth, chewing on your bottom lip as your thoughts race.

For days, the tension has been unbearable. Every teasing glance, every cocky smirk, every stolen look from Johnny is like a fire lit under your skin. And it’s not just him—your body betrays you every time you see him. It’s as if something deep and primal has been unleashed, and no matter how much you try to push it down, it refuses to be ignored.

It’s not just physical, either. Not entirely. The frustration you feel isn’t just because of the way Johnny looks at you—it’s because of the way you look at him, the way he gets to you like no one else. You’ve always clashed, your personalities like fire and ice, but somehow, that spark has turned into something neither of you seems able to control.

You’re sick of it. Sick of pretending it didn’t happen, sick of the way your pulse quickens when he’s around, sick of the way he acts like it doesn’t affect him when it so clearly does.

You can’t keep doing this.

The idea strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you stop pacing. It’s reckless, impulsive, probably insane—but it’s the only way you can see out of this mess.

You grab a hoodie, throwing it on over your pajamas, and quietly open your door. The hallways are dark, the compound silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You tiptoe down the corridor, your heart pounding in your chest.

Johnny’s room is at the far end of the hall. You pause outside his door, your hand hovering over the handle.

This is a terrible idea, a voice in your head whispers.

But the tension inside you, the frustration that’s been building for days, drowns it out. You knock lightly, barely loud enough to be heard.

For a moment, there’s no response. Then you hear footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal Johnny, shirtless and disheveled, his blond hair sticking up in every direction. He blinks at you, clearly surprised.

“Y/N?” he says, his voice husky with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one else is around, before stepping into his room and shutting the door behind you.

“Uh, come on in, I guess,” he says, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You turn to face him, your stomach twisting with nerves. “I need to talk to you.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall. “This late? Couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” you say, your voice firmer than you expect. “I... I can’t do this anymore.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Do what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “The pretending. The acting like nothing happened. I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think straight. Every time I see you, I—” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath.

Johnny’s watching you intently now, all traces of his usual cocky demeanor gone. “You what?” he prompts, his voice softer.

You swallow hard. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. And I know you can’t either.”

His lips part slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you look at me like...” You trail off, shaking your head. “Like you want me just as much as I want you.”

There’s a beat of silence, heavy and charged. Then Johnny takes a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying...” You hesitate, your heart pounding. “We’re clearly bad at ignoring this. So maybe we stop trying.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Are you... proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

“Yes,” you say quickly, before you lose your nerve. “But just... as a way to get this out of our systems. No strings, no complications. Just... physical.”

Johnny’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, but there’s something serious in his gaze. “You want to be frenemies with benefits?”

You nod, your cheeks burning. “Exactly.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then his lips curve into that familiar cocky grin, the one that’s equal parts infuriating and irresistible. “Well, I’m not one to say no to a good idea.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Good. So we’re on the same page.”

“Crystal clear,” he says, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between you. “And, uh... are we starting this now?”

Your pulse quickens at the heat in his gaze, the way his voice drops just slightly. “Yes,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t waste any time. One second he’s standing there, and the next his lips are on yours, claiming your mouth with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as he presses you against the wall.

There’s no hesitation this time, no awkward fumbling or second-guessing. His hands slide under your hoodie, pulling it off in one smooth motion before his lips trail down your neck. You shiver, your body arching into him as his hands explore your skin with a reverence that makes your breath catch.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice low and rough.

You tug at his sweatpants, your hands roaming over the planes of his chest as he lifts you off the ground and carries you to the bed.

It’s fast and frenzied at first, the pent-up tension between you spilling over in a way that’s almost overwhelming. But then Johnny slows down, his movements deliberate and almost tender as he takes his time with you.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper as his forehead rests against yours.

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

It’s been two weeks since that night, two weeks of sneaking around, stolen moments, and whispered promises to “keep this strictly physical.” You tell yourself it’s working, that the arrangement is simple, no-strings-attached. But Johnny Storm is nothing if not difficult—especially when it comes to playing by the rules.

From the moment you agreed to this, Johnny made it his mission to test your self-control. It’s not just that he’s insatiable—though, God help you, he is. It’s the way he looks at you across the room, the way his hand brushes against yours when no one else is looking, the way he finds excuses to get you alone.

It’s maddening.

“Johnny,” you hiss one afternoon as he corners you in the hallway, his hands sliding around your waist. “Someone could see us.”

“Relax,” he says, grinning as he presses a kiss to your neck. “They’re all in the lab. We’ve got at least ten minutes.”

“That’s not the point,” you say, trying—and failing—to push him away. “We’re supposed to be discreet.”

“I am being discreet,” he says, nipping at your earlobe.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but your resolve weakens when his lips find yours, hot and demanding. You kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt as he backs you against the wall.

“Johnny—”

“Five minutes,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s all I need.”

He’s impossible. But the worst part is, you don’t really want him to stop.

You manage to pull yourself together just in time, slipping out of the hallway and pretending nothing happened when you join the others in the common area. Sue glances up from her tablet as you walk in, smiling brightly.

“Hey, Y/N. You look... flushed,” she says, tilting her head.

“I just... went for a run,” you lie, avoiding Johnny’s amused smirk from across the room.

Sue nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and goes back to her work. You shoot Johnny a warning glare, but he just winks at you, completely unapologetic.

This is your life now—trying to keep a straight face while Johnny flirts with you like it’s a sport, all while pretending to everyone else that nothing’s going on.

It’s exhausting.

But somehow, you make it work. You keep your secret, sneaking into his room late at night and slipping back to yours before anyone wakes up. You convince yourself that it’s fine, that you’re in control.

Until she shows up.

It happens one afternoon during a team briefing. You’re sitting at the table, half-listening to Reed drone on about mission logistics, when you notice her. A stunning redhead in a sleek leather jacket, leaning casually against the doorway with a confidence that makes your stomach twist.

Johnny notices her, too.

“Amelia,” he says, his grin widening as he gets up to greet her.

“Johnny,” she replies, her voice smooth as silk.

They hug, and you feel something sharp lodge itself in your chest. She’s gorgeous, the kind of woman who looks like she belongs in a movie, and the way Johnny looks at her—like they have history—makes your stomach churn.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the papers in front of you as Sue introduces Amelia to the team. Apparently, she’s a freelance operative Reed hired to help with the next mission.

Great.

Johnny spends the rest of the briefing sitting next to her, laughing at her jokes and leaning in just a little too close. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care. This is what you signed up for, after all—no strings, no jealousy, no feelings.

But when Amelia laughs at something Johnny says, her hand resting briefly on his arm, you feel a surge of something hot and bitter rise in your chest.

You’re jealous.

The realization hits you like a freight train, and you hate it. You hate that you care, that you’re sitting here stewing over Johnny Storm like some lovesick teenager.

After the briefing, you make a beeline for your room, needing to put some distance between yourself and whatever’s happening downstairs.

Johnny catches up to you later that night, slipping into your room like he always does.

“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed as he sits on the edge of your bed. “You seemed... off today.”

“I’m fine,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because you’ve been weird since Amelia showed up.”

At the mention of her name, your stomach tightens. “I said I’m fine,” you snap, sharper than you intended.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Whoa. Where’s that coming from?”

“Nowhere,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I’m just tired.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he says finally. “If you say so.”

But as he leans in to kiss you, you can’t help but pull away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” you lie, forcing a smile. “I’m just... not in the mood tonight.”

Johnny looks surprised, but he doesn’t push. “Okay,” he says, standing up. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, but then he nods and slips out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, you bury your face in your hands, your heart aching in a way you don’t understand.

You signed up for this. You knew what you were getting into.

So why does it hurt so much to see him with someone else?

The days that follow are torture. Johnny spends more and more time with Amelia, laughing and joking with her in a way that feels too familiar. You do your best to act normal, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your chest tightens every time you see them together.

And Johnny notices.

He corners you in the hallway one night, his expression serious. “Alright, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t give me that,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Did I do something?”

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing, Johnny. Just drop it.”

He doesn’t move, his eyes searching yours. “Is this about Amelia?”

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. “Why would it be about her?”

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice laced with frustration. “You tell me.”

You don’t answer, your silence stretching between you like a chasm.

Johnny sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if something’s bothering you, just say it. I’m not a mind reader.”

You bite your lip, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say them.

Instead, you shake your head. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Johnny stares at you for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he nods, stepping back. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat.

You tell yourself it’s better this way, that keeping your feelings to yourself is the right thing to do.

But as the days go on, you can’t help but wonder how much longer you can keep lying to yourself—and to him.

You’re pacing your room, your mind spinning, your chest tight with a cocktail of frustration and jealousy. The events of the day replay in your head like a broken record.

Amelia had been all over Johnny again—laughing at his jokes, leaning into his personal space, finding every excuse to touch his arm or shoulder. And Johnny, the infuriating, cocky idiot, seemed to revel in it.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You remind yourself of the rules, of the arrangement you agreed to. No strings. No feelings. But those reminders crumble under the weight of the knot in your stomach, the jealousy burning through you like wildfire.

By the time night falls, you’re at your breaking point. You can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything except the need to release all this tension, to let go of the frustration clawing at your chest.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grab your hoodie and storm out of your room, your feet carrying you down the hall before your brain can catch up. You don’t bother knocking when you reach Johnny’s door—you push it open and step inside, your heart pounding in your chest.

Johnny looks up from his bed, where he’s lounging with his phone in hand. He’s shirtless, of course, because why wouldn’t he be? He always seems to know how to test your self-control.

“Y/N?” he says, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s going on?”

You close the door behind you, leaning back against it as you meet his gaze. “I need to blow off some steam,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, sitting up slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you’re going to help me.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, clearly taken aback. Then a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Well, I’m not one to say no to a lady in need.”

You roll your eyes, pushing off the door and crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Less talking, more doing,” you mutter, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Johnny doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hands find your hips, pulling you into his lap as he kisses you back with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Someone’s feisty tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under your hoodie.

“Shut up,” you say, pulling it off and tossing it to the side.

His grin widens, but he does as he’s told, his hands roaming over your skin as you straddle him. You kiss him fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you press your body against his.

When he tries to flip you onto your back, you stop him, pushing him back down onto the bed.

“Not this time,” you say, your voice low and firm.

Johnny looks up at you, his eyes darkening with surprise and something else—something hotter, deeper. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, his lips quirking into a small smirk.

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t deny the rush of satisfaction at the way he looks at you, the way he lets you take control.

And for the first time, you do. You take your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands and lips, savoring the way he responds to your touch. Johnny, for all his usual bravado, seems to love it—his hands gripping your thighs, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you take him apart.

“Damn,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Shut up,” you say again, but there’s no heat in your words.

When it’s over, you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. Johnny wraps his arms around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then Johnny breaks the silence. “I think I like you on top,” he says, his voice teasing.

You groan, burying your face in his neck. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he says, his lips brushing against your temple.

You don’t respond, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

After a few minutes, Johnny shifts beneath you. “Come on,” he says, sitting up and pulling you with him. “Let’s take a bath.”

“A bath?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “You know, to relax. Blow off the rest of that steam.”

You shake your head, but you follow him into the bathroom, your curiosity piqued.

Johnny starts the water, adding some soap that creates a light layer of bubbles. The bathroom is warm and steamy, the faint scent of lavender filling the air.

“Fancy,” you say, leaning against the counter as you watch him.

“Only the best,” he says with a wink, stepping into the tub and holding out a hand to you.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you take his hand and let him pull you in. The water is hot, the perfect contrast to the cool air of the room, and you sink into it with a sigh.

Johnny pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you as you rest your head against his chest.

“This is nice,” you admit, your voice soft.

“Told you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax in his arms. For a moment, everything else fades away—the jealousy, the frustration, the complicated mess of feelings you’ve been trying to ignore.

When the water starts to cool, you both get out and dry off, slipping back into bed together. Johnny pulls you close, his body warm and solid against yours as he drapes an arm over your waist.

“You staying the night?” he asks, his voice low and drowsy.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself with how easily the word comes out.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but wonder how long you can keep pretending this is just a casual arrangement. Because when Johnny holds you like this, when he looks at you with something soft and unguarded in his eyes, it feels like so much more.

It’s early morning, the sun barely peeking through the edges of the curtains as you make your way to Johnny’s room. You’d spent the night tossing and turning in your own bed, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the way his hands felt on your skin, to the sound of his voice murmuring your name.

You’re not sure why you’re up this early or why you feel the need to see him now, but the pull toward him is irresistible.

As you turn the corner and approach his door, you freeze.

Amelia is stepping out of Johnny’s room, her hair slightly tousled, her jacket slung over one shoulder. She doesn’t see you right away, but when she does, her eyes widen slightly, and an awkward, almost guilty expression crosses her face.

“Morning,” she says, her voice light but strained.

You don’t respond, your gaze darting past her to the door she just closed.

“I, uh, should get going,” she says, brushing past you quickly and disappearing down the hallway.

You stand there for a moment, your mind racing. Your chest feels tight, your stomach churning with a mix of anger and something far more painful.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push open Johnny’s door and step inside.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and still half-asleep, his hair a mess of golden strands. When he sees you, he blinks in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doing up so early?”

“What was she doing here?” you demand, your voice sharper than you intended.

Johnny frowns, clearly confused. “Who?”

“Amelia,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just saw her leaving your room.”

Realization dawns on his face, and instead of explaining himself, he has the audacity to smirk. “Jealous, are we?”

“Don’t,” you say, your voice trembling. “Don’t make this a joke.”

The smile fades from his lips, and he stands, his expression softening as he steps closer to you. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh, so she just happened to wander into your room at the crack of dawn?” you interrupt, your anger masking the hurt that’s clawing at your chest. “We’re supposed to be just physical, remember? So I guess it doesn’t matter who else you’re screwing.”

“Hey,” Johnny says firmly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “That’s not what’s happening here. Just... let me explain, okay?”

You glare at him but don’t pull away, your chest heaving as you try to keep your emotions in check.

“She came to my room because she wanted to talk to me before she left,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “The mission ended yesterday, and she’s heading out of town. She wanted to... confess her feelings or something.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And? What did you say?”

Johnny looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see something raw and unguarded in his expression. “I told her I wasn’t interested,” he says softly. “I told her there’s someone else.”

Your heart clenches painfully at his words, and you shake your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

“Do what?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

“Don’t lie to me,” you say, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Don’t say there’s someone else just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm.

You shake your head again, tears stinging your eyes. “Then who is it, Johnny? Who’s so special that you’d turn down Amelia?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “It’s you,” he says simply.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blink up at him, your heart racing. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “It’s always been you. I just... I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

You stare at him, your mind reeling. “Johnny...”

“I know this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious,” he continues, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But I can’t help it, Y/N. I’m crazy about you.”

Your resolve crumbles, and a tear slips down your cheek. “You’re such an idiot,” you say, your voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, his hands cupping your face. “I know. But you like me anyway.”

You laugh weakly, the sound half-choked by a sob, and before you can think twice, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

This kiss is different—softer, slower, free of the urgency and heat that usually defines your moments together. It’s tender and meaningful, a silent confession of everything you’ve both been too scared to say.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together, you can’t help but tease him. “So... does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Johnny grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Guess it does.”

“Good,” you say, poking his chest. “Because that means no more flirting with other women.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, his tone sincere.

You smile, your heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling you closer. “But I’m yours.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and before you know it, his lips are on yours again, this time with more passion, more intensity. He backs you toward the bed, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

For the first time, there’s no rush, no frantic need to prove something. Every touch, every kiss feels deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he lays you down on the bed, his gaze is so full of love and adoration that it nearly takes your breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Johnny,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair.

“I’m yours,” he says again, his voice rough with emotion. “Only yours.”

The words send a surge of warmth through you, and you pull him closer, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

It’s different this time—not just physical, but emotional, intimate in a way that leaves you both vulnerable.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together, your head resting on his chest as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice laced with exhaustion and contentment.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Your heart swells, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I love you too,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Told you you’d fall for me eventually.”

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Shut up, Storm.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he presses another kiss to your lips.

It starts with Susan. Of course, it’s Susan.

You and Johnny had managed to keep your relationship quiet for a few days, sneaking kisses in the hallway, exchanging soft touches when no one was looking, and giving each other the occasional longing glance that lingered a bit too long. But when you’re both together as much as you are with the team, there’s only so much you can hide.

Susan is perceptive to the point of being almost psychic when it comes to her brother. That morning, as you and Johnny are sitting together at the breakfast table, laughing at something stupid he just said, her eyes narrow slightly.

“You two,” she says suddenly, pointing her spoon at both of you, “are acting... different.”

Johnny freezes mid-bite, his eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You, on the other hand, nearly choke on your coffee.

“Different?” you say, trying to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do realize I’ve known Johnny my entire life, right?” Susan says, crossing her arms. “He’s never looked at anyone the way he’s looking at you right now.”

Johnny smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Can you blame me? Look at her.”

You glare at him, smacking his arm lightly. “You’re not helping.”

Susan’s mouth falls open slightly, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Wait. Are you... are you two... together?”

Johnny grins, his hand finding yours under the table. “Yup.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, smacking him again.

“What? She was going to figure it out eventually,” he says with a shrug.

Susan looks stunned for a moment, then her expression softens into something warm and almost maternal. “I knew it,” she says, a smile spreading across her face.

“You knew it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I did,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you have any idea how obvious you two have been? The way you bickered all the time, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other when you thought no one was looking...”

Johnny snickers. “Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we thought.”

“You were terrible at being sneaky,” Susan says, shaking her head. “But... I’m happy for you. Really. You deserve to be happy.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. “Thanks, Susan,” you say softly.

She smiles, then looks at Johnny with a mock-serious expression. “But if you screw this up, Johnny, I swear—”

“Relax, Sis,” Johnny says, holding up his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Susan nods, satisfied, then turns her attention back to her breakfast.

But, of course, the moment doesn’t end there.

As if on cue, Ben stomps into the kitchen, followed closely by Reed, who’s balancing a mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Morning,” Ben grunts, reaching for a plate of pancakes.

“Morning,” you and Johnny say in unison, maybe a little too cheerfully.

Ben pauses, his rocky brow furrowing as he looks at the two of you. “What’s with you two?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Ben says, clearly unconvinced. He looks over at Susan, who’s struggling to hide a smile. “What’s going on?”

Susan shrugs, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “Ask them.”

Ben turns his gaze back to you and Johnny, his eyes narrowing. “Spill it.”

Johnny sighs dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Fine. Y/N and I are together. Happy?”

Ben stares at you both for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I knew it!” Ben says, slapping his knee. “I told you, Reed! You owe me twenty bucks!”

Reed looks up from his clipboard, his expression thoughtful. “Technically, the bet was whether they’d get together before the end of the month, and it’s only the twentieth, so yes, I suppose I do owe you.”

“You bet on us?” you ask, your jaw dropping.

“Of course we did,” Ben says, grinning. “You two have been dancing around each other for months. It was only a matter of time.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, burying your face in your hands.

Johnny, on the other hand, looks delighted. “Wait, how much money are we talking here?”

“Don’t even think about it,” you say, elbowing him in the ribs.

Reed clears his throat, clearly trying to shift the conversation back to something less embarrassing. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good match,” he says, adjusting his glasses.

You blink at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You balance each other out. Johnny needs someone who can challenge him, and you need someone who can... bring out your fun side.”

Johnny smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “Hear that? I’m good for you.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

The rest of breakfast is filled with teasing and laughter, and by the end of it, you feel lighter than you have in days.

Later, as you’re walking back to your room, Johnny catches up with you, slipping his hand into yours.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” he says, grinning.

“You mean the part where they all knew already?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny laughs, pulling you closer. “Guess we’re not as good at hiding things as we thought.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “You’re lucky I love you, Storm.”

“Damn right I am,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

As you walk down the hallway together, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel like everything is finally falling into place.

For better or worse, this is your family now. And with Johnny by your side, you know you can handle anything that comes your way.

[astracora]

I get the point of people going 'banners aren't canon/have nothing to do with the lore' but... I feel like people are using lore incorrectly. Whatever your feelings about cat boys or catch22 boys, you can't just point blank go banners have no bearing on character that's a crazy statement 😭

There is some wild hypocrisy just specifically for this banner with people who were cool af with cat boys (which was crazy like sorry how did tiny cats be so op that they could TURN OFF someone's evol and suppress it and make them grow cat features and personality traits) now going this is too AU. (Kinda the point of an AU you know? The question is what would you have to do to make a character act like this.)

But I've also seen like? Sylus' Within Reach card named as having nothing to do with the story too ('you're just measuring his ass'). Like. Are you only watching kindleds and not playing dates? His entire card is about MC worrying about his health, realising they care more than they want to, and more suggestions that Sylus 1. Truly understands them that he can read those feelings on their face or 2. Is able to see into their dreams.

That's? Character building 😭 which by definition is part of their lore.

Even cat boys showed that? Zayne being more affectionate because he didn't have to worry about his EVOL going out of control. Raffy being more honest about his desperation for MC because it was harder to hide? Xavier showing more of his anxieties over not having MC in his life. Sylus showing he does everything he does FOR MC and no one else.

You're free not to like the new banner I'm not debating that, if it's not up ur alley that's super chill and very fair, unless ur out there being weird on main to people who are excited for it, but like. Saying it will have NOTHING to offer about the characters is a batshit statement that's fully untrue.

There's a very real thing to be said that no person is fully perfect and everyone is capable of being broken down. One of Zayne's main character beats is how EVER/Xander Sciences wants him for their experiments, and the question the game presents is 'what would we have to do to make this man abandon his morals'. You're about to potentially see that EXACT scenario in catch 22.

I'm not saying 'go pull' either. I'm saying, when it comes out if you're curious watch the date on YouTube, and see what character information the story offers you because seeing all the messy complex sides of a character is absolutely fascinating.

Whether they're even going to be that dark is up for debate, but I'm fully willing to bet that they'll have something to share about the characters themselves, that adds to the little complex web of their lore and build.

[night-raven-miscellany]

Lewis hummed for a moment.

"Well... It's a bit more like... There's a saying that pets often turn out like their owners yeah? It's... Sorta like that. Except it's more that the person usually reflects the tea, I guess. Real hard to explain. Tends to be that way with personal philosophies and such."

He mindlessly began fiddling with the card on the top of his deck.

"got a friend of mine. Let's call him... Earl. He prefers a lot of black tea specifically, though the name kinda gives that away. I've noticed that, with people like Earl who prefer black tea, tend to be a bit more... Studious? That, or conceited. Sometimes both. But there's still something about them that brings warmth."

He placed the card on the bottom of the stack and began to mess with another one.

"Then, you've got the people who prefer green teas, like matcha. They might seem a little bitter, like the tea itself. An acquired taste, these people are. But, when you get to know them really well, there's a sort of calming, down-to-earth vibe that they've got going on."

Lewis shrugged and sighed with a soft chuckle.

"I mean. I could simply be mad. Perhaps there isn't any meaning to what kind of teas people like and how they are. Something about correlation not being causation or something. But... I dunno. My instinct hasn't proven me wrong yet."

He runs a hand through his hair. It was still slightly damp, but it had become mostly dry, which was good enough for him.

"Lookit me going on like this... It's totes outta character! I'm not even telling any stories..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry, it ain't really like me to go on about myself like this, y'know?"

Lewis figured that, perhaps, it might be better for him to fall into that role of an old friend. A role he did not know, but perhaps one that he could at least manage for a short while.

Cherished Trinkets:

Breakdown in Progress

*Vern can hear the rain beating the roof as he shakily checks around the old windmill. Icy water drips from his hair. It's late, no one else should be around. Pausing, he coughs. Everyone should be in their dorms as the storm settles in. Shivering as he scratches at his bandages, he tries to retrace his steps.*

Was it... umm...

*Lightning whites out his vision. Thunder violently crashes nearby. Vern's knees abruptly give out. Breathe. He needs to breathe. Vern doesn't notice as his bandages unravel. Tears blur his vision. Take a breath. Try to breathe. The sprite hugs himself tightly as another rumble of thunder bursts through the air. Red columbines bloom throughout his hair.*

N-no... I-I... I d-didn't....

*Vern's skin is freezing, yet his veins are burning. His heart feels like it might explode. Each exhale is too short, and the inhales barely take any air. His throat tightens as the faint taste of smoke and iron fill his mouth. Another rumble rattles the stone structure. Vern is trembling as he covers his ears.*

I-I... S-Stravi... p-please... s-somone...

*He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling to the floor. Foxgloves and oleander start growing from where each drop falls. Brambles protectively coil around him*

Ooc// uhh... I know I told some people about this so.. tagging? Lmk if you want to be removed or added

@nrcbookclub @nightonthemountain @aurora-retainer-silver

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I have been trying to read 'how nightmare became dadmare' on ao3 because a friend wanted me to since it's apparently the best found family bad sanses out there (I'm usually not a fan of the dynamic) and I've been struggling so much...

they keep ignoring killer. horror is barely a character, he's forgotten most of the time. at times I feel like the whole fic is more about dust than nightmare despite the title. I had to bail when nightmare literally ignored killer giving him vital information for no valid reason despite killer being his right hand man.

this is why I don't like the dynamic. every reason why. if this is the best out there I don't want to know what else they got going on.

sorry for the rant the frustration got to me

I feel it’s often very overlooked in the fandom that killer is not canonically nightmare’s right hand—it’s literally just him and nightmare, cross and xchara were there maybe before they ditched too and a murder sans variant showed up once and then kinda disappeared, killer refers to a mysterious “the others” at one point—but for the most part it’s just him and his boss.

And Nightmare definitely doesn’t listen to him or his advice—even if that comic suggests that perhaps that is something that would change with time, the more killer proves himself. Doesn’t mean he’s exempt from being choked unconscious if he speaks out of turn or has a slip in his words, however.

What im tryna say is that it’s pretty obvious that Killer would never become Nightmare’s right hand if he didn’t prove himself and earn it. Which means it’s absolutely ridiculous for killer to be nightmare’s right hand and then for nightmare to just disregard his advice—not unless that’s supposed to be a character flaw of his, his pride and hubris causing him to overlook killer again, maybe. Doesn’t seem to be the case in this fic though.

The idea that Killer becomes Nightmare’s right hand and that position holds weight only because Killer was there first or was there the longest..is just weird to me. That’s just bad leadership. Let Killer earn that spot through his own intelligence, determination, skills, and drive for either something new or control—through displays of dedication and loyalty.

Let him prove himself trustworthy and knowledgeable. Let Nightmare train him and encourage him, let Nightmare reward him for the effort and dedication he has shown to the King’s goals. It’s a lot more interesting than…”Well, he was here the longest..” or “he was here first,” in situations where these ranks are supposed to mean something. Or at least, if it means something to Killer.

Why would he ever leave Nightmare when he’s done and said so much to earn what he has? Searching for something new, the means and privilege and resources to follow wherever his curiosity and impulses and boredom take him? To have control and power over something in his life, for once? To ensure his own safety, security and survival?

Wouldn’t it be so much harder to give up what he has when he’s fought tooth and nail, killed and tortured, threw others under the bus—for his own self preservation— not wanting to be outdone by anyone else and thus deemed useless enough to not warrant keeping around, to be deemed worthless enough to have his right to exist revoked—for it? His own curiosity? Amusement? Feeling of control, even if it’s all ultimately meaningless in the end?

People should let killer be ruthless more often. Even if it means wielding cruelty as a tool.

But yeah, a lot of bad sans family fics have the misfortune of turning into the dust sans and nightmare sans show ft. those two other guys over there ig. I was reading that fic like awhile back, but I stopped a while ago, so I don’t know how it ends or goes on—so I can’t say anything about this fic specifically when I can’t recall anything about it rn.

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

A Little Breakdown of the Will Misogyny Scene bc I Keep Laughing About It & Need an Outlet

this scene lives in my head rent-free like holy shit it had me in fucking hysterics 😭 AND LIKE I KNEW IT WAS COMING BC I WAS SCROLLING THROUGH TUMBLR BEFORE I GOT TO IT BUT IT DIDN'T MAKE IT ANY LESS HILARIOUS???

like genuinely there's so much i wanna talk about, it's both a really funny scene and also just like a super interesting scene that gives you a bit of insight into the dynamics of the characters, if that makes sense??

so here i am, going through this scene and 1) just fucking laughing my ass off bc i can never read this scene with a straight face and 2) trying to kinddaaa link it back to some sort of semi-meaningful analysis (though mostly this is just my excuse to ramble about a dumb scene that i am obsessed with for some dumb reason)

warning: non-sensical yapping about a short scene ahead

first of all the set-up to this scene

here, you can see a gay man decide, once and for all, he hates women!

okay but fr the way i see this moment is sorta re-establishing the competitive nature of ada and will's dynamic (at least in this section of the story where ada and monty are dating). obviously, this became apparent in the staircase scene where we see them constantly bickering, but i'd say this is the first we're seeing them genuinely compete for monty's attention/affection.

ada at first gets the 'upper hand' (in reality, neither can really, monty's too out of it to even pretend to give a shit about either of them) by doting on him like a loving girlfriend, tucking him in and everything, and will is just. idk. disgusted by straight people (same, will, same /j). he definitely sees this as ada trying her hand at stealing monty away — and he's kinda right. whether or not she actually is doesn't matter, because this isn't really about monty, except it is?? i'll probably talk more about this some other time, but both ada and will care more about the love that monty is dangling over their heads more than him.

at least, that's my take so far.

anyways, basically this is a game, and ada's just had her turn and she has the advantage of monty being awake. it's will's turn now and he decides to win monty's favour by...

that.

so outside of the very obvious comedy of will very awkwardly and randomly going "women ☕️" (like genuinely i don't think he knows what the fuck he's talking about), something that gets me about this is how CONFUSED monty is. there's a pretty high chance he's confused because of the painkillers in his system, but i'm of the belief that the funnier interpretation is always the better one so...

i like to imagine he's confused for the same reason the audience probably is — that being, will, what the fuck? monty's reaction definitely does have a similar vibe to when will told him he was praying, so i don't think it's a stretch. it'd also confirm that this is a really out of the blue rant for will to go on, something that can be inferred from how awkward and ada-specific his rant is. if he has beliefs that are even slightly similar to what he's saying, he's definitely never expressed them before judging by how nervous he is about it.

though, you know what is in character for will? spewing absolute bullshit, hence why monty's only response is 'sure, will' before going to sleep (that, and the fact he's really tired and barely has any blood in him, seriously it's a surprise he didn't die 😭)

speaking of which. notice how, despite being loopy from the painkillers and blood loss, monty still manages to remember will's name. i can't tell if it's because he's known will longer and therefore is more used to his presence, he cares a bit more for will than he does ada (and there is evidence he gives a tiny bit of a shit about will. though he might for ada as well, we haven't seen much of those two), or that will is a man and therefore worthy of a bit more respect in monty's eyes (something i am NOT ruling out when considering the differences between ada/monty and will/monty). i think it's an interesting detail, though i'm not sure how much it'll get elaborated on.

ada might have the advantage of being monty's most recent fancy (albeit, for reasons definitely related to ada's spectre) but will has the advantage offff... whatever the hell got monty to remember his name of all things

okay so i've already listed my reasons for believing will is spewing bullshit to suck up to monty but i just wanted to pipe in my own personal experience with this sorta behaviour.

i'm trans, right? specifically transmasc and hooolyyy shit did this rant unlock some EMBARRASSING memories of me trying to mimick how i thought men saw women ☠️ he's just like me in the WORST way possible and i can't help but laugh at it he is SUCH a loser

i don't think will is trans, that's not a headcanon i have of him (though i do have that hc for pluto bc well... look at him), but i DO think he's gay (one of the preview images for the locked episodes has him blushing behind monty and i am VERY confident in my idea of what he's blushing for) and at the very least tried to excuse his disinterest in women with shit like this. this is the exact kind of behaviour from a guy who is desperately trying to hide his queerness by being an asshole to women (newsflash, you don't have to hate women to seem more masculine, but will is likely from an older time, i get 1800s vibes though i think 1930s makes a lot of sense too, so i suppose that was never a thought that could've occured to anyone)

i don't think that is specifically the motivator behind this specific rant, in this case he is for sure doing it for monty, but i get the feeling he's pulling this shit from stuff he's maybe said in the past to hide his sexuality

another thing: i touched on this earlier but... most of the stuff will is saying is DEFINITELY directed at ada. i wouldn't be surprised if he's doing this on purpose, using this awkward forced misogyny as cover to insult ada (which isn't out of character, i wanna make a separate post about this but i find that will's 'real' method of meanness is less. outward? then, say, monty's. it's muttered, or condescending, or veiled behind something like what we see in this scene). judging ny ada's expression though, she DEFINITELY catches on.

i firmly believe ada wouldn't have been as aggressive had will not been insulting ada personally

oh yeah, a final little note on this section: anyone else feel like this has the same energy as when you're reading an old book and randomly get flashbanged with misogyny?? like lowkey idk if that was the vibe the creators were going for, but it definitely was giving those vibes. i got immediate flashbacks to when i was reading dracula and at least lime once a chapter they'd mention how mina was too ✨️ womanly ✨️ and ✨️ innocent ✨️ to be involved in the whole vampire situation. except worse bc will is just actively being malicious (which honestly makes this whole scene better, hate the misogyny but love me some will being mean bc it's hilarious every time)

and, how could i forget, the ABSOLUTE HYPOCRISY OF THIS STATEMENT I'M ACTUALLY IN HYSTERICS RN HOLY SHIT WILL 😭 big words coming from a guy whose main job is to copy other people like damn bro projecting much

i didn't mention it earlier bc it was cropped out, but further evidence of will purposely taking this as an opportunity to trash on ada is him looking DIRECTLY AT ADA I'M CACKLING THIS IS GOLD.

but this isn't where the goldmine ends because it all gets topped off by WILL REALIZING MONTY ISN'T AWAKE TO SAVE HIS DUMBASS AND THEN PROSPERO JUST NOPING OUT OF THIS WHOLE DISASTER

will, i love you, i am your number one apologist but... nah bro you did this to yourself you're on your own LMAO

i sincerely hope ada rocked his shit bc that was a hilariously pathetic display and will needs to learn the consequences of his actions (though, i was hoping getting beat by a crowbar would be enough to get it through his skull 😭)

anyways that's all i have to say about this scene for now, i feel like it's pretty easy to tell who my favourite character is. i swear i like the other characters, it's just that will had me in a chokehold the moment he appeared and the fact he has very little lore behind him makes me incredibly desperate for any crumbs i can get ☠️ i have wayyy more to say on will, but like i'd need to organize and gather myself if i actually wanna say anything meaningful

[alexa-yukiyu]

Unfit Babysitter ft Sukuna

A/N First one to go! I can’t remember if I came up with these or if they were dreams but here they are, I think I have three or four ideas already written down, just have to fledge them completely

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Sukuna looked bored at the child running before them, playing around with a wolf-like curse. The two ran in circles, the child trying to catch the curse, giggling escaping them as they did.

“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume called, catching the man’s attention, his eyes glancing at his subordinate letting out a hum in response.

“The village downwind has sent a group of sorcerers to our location; provided they don’t die on the way, they should arrive within the next hour.”

“Are they any good?”

“Their techniques were quite unique. However, they lack the talent to master such abilities.”

His disappointment was soon cut off as he dismissively turned his sight back on the child only to let out an annoyed grunt at the lack of said child in front of them.

“Should I retrieve them?” Uraume questioned, watching as the sorcerer stood up and made his way into the forest past the clearing.

“No, I will be getting the brat myself this time

“He was right; these maggots have not the first idea how to use their techniques in an effective way; it would have been fun to play with one that knew what they were doing,” he tsked, dropping the severed head of the sorcerer

“And you,” he growled, turning around to face the curse that stood next to Dokucha, dread filling their animal features as the sorcerer slowly made their way closer to them, a taunting smile on his face as he did

“I should have known better than to have allowed a measly cursed to live,” he drawled as he drew closer,

“Here I thought even a pest like you could be useful, but you aren’t even capable of keeping tabs on a brat,” he spoke, the malicious grin on his face growing at the fear growing on the animal as he raised one of his hands to strike them down stopping his attack as Dokucha stood in front of the wolf protectively

“Go away, Kuna!”

“Ha?! I saved your ass, and you dare say that to me?! Move,” he snarled.

“No! Mr. Snuggles protected me!”

“Who the fuck is Mr. Snuggles?!”

“Mr.Snuggles!” Dokucha exclaimed in glee as she gestured to the wolf curse, who nervously shook his head. Sukuna’s attention shifted to him being anything less than thankful for the ‘praises’ of the child.

“He’s the best! Much better than you, Kuna!” They gloated, placing their hands on their hips in a proud stance. The wolf looked their way, silently begging the child to cease their words, comedic tears sliding down its snout as their situation worsened with each second.

“Is that so?” Sukuna growled, sending a scathing glare to the curse.

“Mmhm, just like me! You’re no match for me, Ku! Give up, and I will show you mercy!” they called with an exaggerated laugh, escaping them, only to pause and let out a small squeal as the sorcerer easily reached them and took hold of them.

“HA! A weakling like you is nothing more than an insect compared to me! What do you take me for?!” He Cackled as he looked at the child now dangling from one of his arms by their feet.

“Y-you’re, You’re, a-a-a”

“Can’t even speak properly, and you speak about defeating me?!”

“You’re so mean, Kuna!” They snap a frown on their face

What do you think? This one is kinda meh

[vortexbloom]

Velvet Nights

(Part 2)

Pairing: Phainon x Escort Girl Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Toxic male OC, Modern Au, Kinda short

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Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

Velvet Nights (Part 1)

Velvet Nights (Part 3)

Velvet Nights (Bonus)

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

Art by: @junnoelle on X (Twitter)

You woke up wrapped in silk sheets, the scent of expensive cologne lingering on your skin. Phainon’s arm was draped over your waist, his breathing slow and steady against your shoulder.

It felt… peaceful. And that terrified you.

This wasn’t the life you knew. Your world was neon lights, whispered deals, and men who saw you as nothing more than a transaction. But Phainon wasn’t like them.

He never treated you like something to be owned.

And that made it harder to resist him.

As you carefully slid out of bed, grabbing your dress from the floor, you felt his gaze on you.

"You’re leaving," Phainon murmured, voice still husky from sleep.

You exhaled, refusing to look at him. "I have to."

"You don’t."

His words made you freeze.

Turning, you met his blue eyes—soft, unwavering. "I can take you away from this," he continued, sitting up, the sheets pooling around his waist. "You don’t have to go back to that club. To them."

You swallowed hard. "And what? Be yours instead?"

Phainon’s expression darkened slightly, but he remained composed. "No. You’d be your own. But you wouldn’t have to sell parts of yourself to men who don’t deserve you."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "And you think you do?"

Silence.

Then, Phainon stood, closing the space between you. His fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "I think I could," he murmured, his lips inches from yours. "If you let me."

Your heart clenched. You wanted to believe him. But you knew better.

"Phainon… you don’t belong in my world," you whispered.

His grip tightened just slightly, golden eyes searching yours. "Then let me bring you into mine."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

You didn’t leave the club.

You couldn’t.

Phainon didn’t understand—this wasn’t just about money. It was about survival. The club wasn’t just a place you worked; it was a place you were owned.

And the owner, Dain, didn’t take kindly to girls trying to run.

"You’ve been distracted lately," Dain mused one evening, swirling a glass of whiskey between his fingers. His eyes, sharp and predatory, never left yours.

You forced a smirk. "Maybe I’m just getting bored."

Dain chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "I hear a certain client has been keeping you busy. One with a lot of money and a little too much interest in things that aren’t his."

Your blood ran cold.

"You know the rules, sweetheart." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "No one gets to keep you."

His words weren’t a threat. They were a warning.

And Phainon was in danger.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

You tried to push Phainon away after that.

Tried to go back to the way things were. Cold, detached, untouchable.

But he wasn’t the kind of man who let things go easily.

"You’re lying to me," he said one night as you sat in his car outside the club, refusing to meet his gaze. "Something’s wrong."

You shook your head. "You don’t get it, Phainon. This is my life."

"No," he said firmly. "This is the life you were forced into. That doesn’t mean you have to stay in it."

Tears burned at your eyes. "And what if I don’t have a choice?"

Phainon was silent for a long moment. Then, his hand slid under your chin, tilting your face up.

"You do now," he murmured.

And in that moment, you realized something terrifying.

Phainon wasn’t going to let you go.

Even if it meant tearing down the world that kept you caged.

Taglist: @ivana013-blog

Make sure to tell me if you want to be tagged in the next parts.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[samo64]

Baldi's Basics Headcanons that will never be canon but are funny to think about because they're living rent free in my brain

Playtime has extreme zoomies, like when something exciting happens she runs all over the walls and ceilings in the schoolhouse so fast not even the Principal could catch her, she's too fast!

Bully only bullies the player and not the other students because if he were to bully Playtime or Arts and Crafters he'd feel bad but with the player he don't care not even a tiny bit.

If the Principal were to open his eyes i think it would have a medusa kind off effect except he doesn't turn anyone into stone instead strikes fear into those who break the rules.

Since Johnny is the shop-keeper i think he would be also a school faculty member like the other staff, like he's the only teen who works in the faculty.

Gotta sweep would have an ability to switch broom brushes by jumping out of one so he's just the pole and jumps ans twists onto another.

Baldi since he's an Anim8tor model would have the ability to take parts of his body off with no blood or gore necessary but is there for comedic affect and don't worry he can easy re-attach them because his arms and legs are segmented.

Gotta sweep's heritage consists of cleaning products like mops, brooms and farm reapers.

1st prize's hands specifically his fingers would have some form of articulation where he can grip.

Dr. Reflex has seen how some people compare him to rodents and he takes quite offense to that.

Joe would be the one character that would make some memorable cameos kinda like Stan Lee in the marvel movies.

Mrs. Pomp's is more easly quick to anger than Baldi or Dr Reflex.

The Baldloons can phase through walls like actual ghosts and mostly travel in groups of five with Red considered the leader.

Null/Filename2 can communicate to his crab bink easily.

When Null/Filename 2 Sneezes he reveals his skin for a brief second.

Baldi and Principal made the murals in the detention room with the principal's mural being written by Baldi while Baldi's mural being written by the principal.

Baldi would have vivid memories of Susan and Andrew but are usually a blur

The other head's on Red Baldloon's body imitate the main head's expressions

The Baldloons can shape-shift into other people in the schoolhouse the only difference is that they can't change color or remove the party hats.

Red Baldloon loves to eat the walls, doors, entirety of the schoolhouse when he has the chance.

These ones are for PriniciBaldi shippers

if something goes horribly wrong in the schoolhouse to the point where everyone has to evacuate, Principal would rush in and get baldi holding him birdal style and Baldi thanking him by showering Principal in kisses leaving read lipstick marks.

Baldi would hug the principal too tightly making a cracking noise in the principal's spine.

If the principal were asleep in his office, baldi would come in say goodnight and give him a little kiss on the forehead.

Back to our regularly sceduled programming

i feel like Bladder loves Badsum too much.

The Test would carry around the chalkboard where chalkes is currently on so chalkles wouldn't have to fly off somewhere

[lilbitofsomthin]

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash in a happy ending AU I made up :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D