#because really. you'd think in a place like hell. nice people would be the exception and evil would be normal. right?

[just-a-little-anxious]

My favourite thing about Helluva Boss is how i've seen the 'it's hell' argument used by both helluva boss fans, and people critical of the show.

When people who are critical complain about characters and talk about how some characters are evil for no reason, fans will say 'it's hell, what do you expect? the characters are supposed to be evil'

But then fans will be angry at evil characters themselves and hate them, and you can say 'well, she's from hell, right? What do you expect?'

It's just that i've never seen two groups of people fighting each others' opinions with the same argument. it's so fascinating and i love it.

[tyrantisterror]

For whatever reason, I found myself thinking about the theme of heritage/inheritance in Harry Potter and how it's, like, catastrophically broken in the text.

The villains in Harry Potter are almost unanimously racist and classist - they believe they are entitled to behave however they wish and live at the top of the social hierarchy because they were born to rich, pureblooded families, and anyone who wasn't is filth to be exploited and/or purged. That's the philosophy of evil in the book - "I deserve everything because I was born in the right family with the right genes and the right social standing. My heritage makes me better than you."

All the injustice and evil in the books is rooted in this belief in entitlement by way of heritage. People are abused and die because of it. Inherited wealth and status, and more specifically the unfair priveleges it affords, is the root of evil in Harry Potter.

So you'd think the protagonist would present some sort of strong contrast to it, right? That they'd be born poor, or mixed race, etc. But no, Harry is from a rich pureblood family, with the vast wealth and social status that affords.

Well, that's OK, we can still make a contrast. Maybe Harry differs in how he acts with wealth - perhaps, realizing his inheritance is an unfair privilege, he gives it away? Maybe he works to give the underprivileged their due? Again, no, not really. He sometimes buys stuff for his poor friend Ron, and defends his "mudblood" friend Hermione from racist criticism, but he sees no reason to change the system that dehumanizes them in the first place, and by the end of the tale is pleased to exploit his privilege for his own gain.

The whole house elf subplot illustrates this failing well - we have a race of slaves who are frequently shown to suffer from abuse. One of them, the property of a rich racist, risks his life to save Harry, and Harry frees him in return. Oh, nice, finally fighting the system, eh? Except no, not really - while Harry frees that specific slave, he's content to leave the others in bondage, especially when he inherits a slave of his own.

The contrast Harry Potter puts up against its rich, racist, privileged villains is "Hey, being rich and higher in the hierarchy is awesome and just, but you can't be a dick about it." That slaves belong in the dirt, but masters should be polite while putting them in their place.

Voldemort posits himself as the heir of Slytherin - claiming his inheritance is vital to his rise to power and villainy. And Harry opposes him by... also claiming inheritance from a rich old dead guy. Hell, the final battle comes down to who rightfully inherits a specific rare Wand!

The fact that Harry and Voldemort have shit in common is not a flaw on its own - villains and heroes are often foils for each other. But in this specific tale, the relationship the villain has with inherited power is so central to the conflict that the hero having the exact same relationship is a major failing. The story is just shy of saying "Voldemort was basically right, but he shouldn't have been rude about it." It's bad from both a moral and a writing skill perspective.

(The only inheritance Harry fully rejects is parseltongue, i.e. the ability to talk to snakes, which was accidentally given to him by Voldemort, and could be argued to be a symbol of trauma rather than inherited wealth. Also I'm still salty about how that series turned on snakes so cruelly, but that's a whole other rant.)

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[boltwrites]

Reader/Logan where reader is trying so hard to seduce Logan but mans a brick wall and when Reader just about gives up Logan confront them and reciprocates their feelings (smut?[optional])

A/N: no smut here, just because i'm working on a lot more smut for other fics. this is just kind of cute and definitely more than a little silly. Also, just general headcanons, and very gender neutral.

You've never tried so hard to seduce a man in your whole life, honestly. As soon as you met that man and Wade said he was going to be sticking around, you started thinking up a game plan.

Step one was obvious: dressing up for him. You started out casual enough - if you ever had to go see Wade about something, you made sure you looked nice. Hair styled, with clothes that made you feel confident and attractive. Maybe makeup, if that's your thing.

It didn't seem to illicit much reaction from Logan, though. He was usually involved in something else - didn't really pay you any mind. Hardly spoke to you, in fact, even when you batted your lashes at him and told you that you brought him some liquor as a "welcome to the apartment" gift. He'd just nodded at you, took it, and told you a very generic "hey - thanks." Like - he could have said that to his worst fucking enemy. Or some random fuck on the street. It gave you nothing.

So, obviously, you had to up the ante. Now you weren't just dressing nice, you were dressing slutty. Maybe for you, that was wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over your forearms and some tight ass pants, or one too many buttons undone on that dress shirt. Maybe it was crop tops and booty shorts. Hell - maybe it was push-up bras and thigh highs. Whatever it was, you made sure to wear it the next time you sauntered on over to Wade's place.

And motherfucking Wade noticed. Made some asinine comment that you were trying to steal him away from Vanessa. You slapped him in the face as you played it off as whatever excuse you had this week, waltzing your way into the apartment so you could talk to Wade and see if Logan would look your way. Because that would be the key - if you could get him to look at you, you were sure you would know. There was always a sort of vibe in the air when two people who wanted to fuck looked at each other. You'd be able to tell.

Except - god fucking dammit - he was like a brick wall. You'd greeted Logan, waited for his eyes to dance over your outfit - and you got nothing. Maybe - maybe - his jaw clenched? but you couldn't tell. Fuck.

OK. Phase two: you'd have to get a little more assertive. You started inviting Wade and Logan out. You really didn't want to have to move on to phase two, because it meant you had to deal with Wade outside of his own apartment, which also meant you ran the risk of getting banned from fine, upstanding establishments. But fuck it, you'd risk it for Logan.

You took them out to a bar, along with Vanessa and Peter. You'd made sure to take the stool next to Logan. You did the usual - laughed at his jokes, asked him a couple questions when the conversation lulled. You leaned in when he spoke, and at one point you even worked up the courage to touch his arm.

And things had been going... well, alright, until you decided to do that. You'd been enjoying yourself - you'd even been kind of enamored with Logan for some of his answers. He'd replied to you like he would anyone else - except maybe Wade, since he wasn't rude and he didn't stab you - but there wasn't any animosity there. But when you touched him - he noticed. His eyes shot straight to your hand on his arm and his fingers had balled into a fist. You'd had to retract your arm and make a hasty apology and an even hastier excuse before he could chide you about it. You'd been so fucking embarrassed.

Whatever, OK. Setback. Not the end of the world. You take them to the club. Negasonic and Yukio even come. You're pretty sure Logan will be posted up at the bar all night, but that's fine! You still get to wear an extra hot outfit and, if plied with alcohol or other substances of your choice, you could certainly work up the courage to ask him to dance. It was a foolproof plan, nothing could possible go wrong -

Logan got himself kicked out before you could even begin to put it into motion. You had literally been sipping one of your first drinks of the night (either alcoholic or not, you needed to stay hydrated on the dance floor) and Logan had decided that, at no later that 11 at night, he needed to start a bar fight. It was hot, you weren't going to lie - he picked the dude up by the scruff of the neck and slammed him into the bar like he weighed nothing, fucking growled about it. God, you wanted to fuck him. But it still cut all your plans short.

You tried so much shit after that. Staging a movie night so you could sneak in a cuddle? Wade insisted on sitting between the two of you. Tried to ask Logan if he wanted food or to go out for a drink alone? Wade cut in and insisted on joining. Trying a thinly veiled sex joke or innuendo was out of the fucking question - Wade could smell those for miles away and would call you out on your old man crush immediately. It had to be godly intervention that he hadn't said anything so far.

Eventually? You were exhausted. You'd tried everything - and while Wade had thwarted some of your plans, most of them had just fallen flat. Logan just didn't respond to them. He didn't seem interested in seeing you in sexy clothes, didn't really seek you out in conversation. He hadn't insisted Wade stay home when you specifically asked Logan out and Wade interjected. And - it all came down to how he looked at you when you touched his arm. Maybe - maybe he didn't like you. Maybe you were too young for him. Maybe he didn't like anybody.

So, you stopped trying. It had taken a lot of energy to put in that effort, and you weren't interested in keeping that up for a man who didn't reciprocate. You'd still hang out with Wade and Logan, of course - but you weren't going to be arranging things specifically to try and seduce Logan, now.

That was, until two weeks after your decision to no longer pursue him, there was a knock on your door. And when you opened it - it was Logan. With - was that like, three garbage bags?

"Told Wade I was taking the trash out." Logan explained, nodding towards them. "Didn't want him following." Because Wade did kind of follow Logan around like a forlorn puppy - except when chores and/or manual labor were involved. But - ok, yeah, the trash bags were weird, but why had Logan specifically sidestepped Wade to come see you?

"Do you need something?" you asked. Maybe Logan was upset that you hadn't brought any booze over for a while. Maybe he needed cash. Your heart dropped thinking about it. But his eyebrow quirked up just a bit.

"You," he replied, plain as day. "You haven't been around lately." You blinked at him? Did he- "did you miss me?"

"I-" he caught himself, closed his eyes and bit his lip as he quelled something? "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

You were shocked, honestly. You were sure your mouth was hanging open. "But - you-"

"If Wade saw, you know that little shit would never let us hear the end of it," Logan posited, and your eyes widened. "So- so that was why you were acting like you didn't give a shit about me?"

He nodded, offering up a wry smile. "Mhm." Oh, for fuck's sake. "So - you do want to fuck me?" "Oh yes." His smile widened, with a low chuckle added to his reply. Oh, fuck.

You reached over the threshold of your door, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and fucking yanked.

"Then get the fuck in here, you - fucking - you tease!"

Later, with Logan curled up in your bed and nothing on except your underwear, someone pounded on your door, harsh and startling. It was accompanied by the pissed off voice of none other than Blind Al: "I almost tripped over your goddamn garbage and broke a fucking hip, 203! You owe me for that!"

[myrunawaysweets]

I loved your recent post abt human Alastor x reader in the 1920s. Of course this is only a suggestion, what if you continued on with this? Maybe like having them move in with each other, start a family? Perhaps have a tragic ending that resulted both to go to Hell, or maybe reader be a fallen angel! Just all suggestions! Have a great day/night/evening<3

I dont know how long this was in here, I was scrolling through settings to mess around and found this, so I hope you didn't wait too long!

But this is one of my specialties and I'm honestly really flattered that you made a request!

The next day, the cops found a bloodied body in the alley beside the club. The corpse was too disfigured to recognize, knees bashed in backwards, jaw hanging loosely, ribs tearing out of the chest and a smile etched into the poor bloodied face as it hung on the wall.

Surely this was the work of the smiling killer in New Orleans, who else could it be?

No one had ever laid eyes on the killer and lived to tell the tale... except you.

You had been held by the psychopath in a loving embrace, wrapped up in a blanket on his couch.

For some reason, when you looked into this man's eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes as he softly smiled at you... you felt no fear, no urge to run or hide.

Yes you knew he had killed people, that he was no better than a monster... yet you couldn't help but think what made him this way. Everyone knows not to trust a bad apple, but not everyone suspects the tree that bears bad fruit... so you couldn't blame him, after all, why would you blame the apple for the trees wrongdoing.

Instead, you held onto him and stuck close.

Now you peacefully kneaded dough as your loving boyfriend drank his bitter coffee in your bakery as a customer walked in. Marjorie, a nice old lady who came by every second day for a box of beignettes.

"(Y/n)! Have you heard the news?"

You looked up from your dough, flour had stuck to your apron as you wiped your hands "What news, ma'am?"

"Theres been another murder!" As the words left her lips you could see alastor tense up as you studied him.

The poor lady was shaking as she opened her purse "it was a young fellow around your age! He had such a long life ahead of him too..."

You could see alastors hands shakily lift his cup to his lips.

"What a terrible thing! Here, have these on the house, as a thank you for your patronage" you smiled, handing her the box and pushing her change back towards her gently.

The lady smiled with a thank you before turning to leave.

"Say hello to Mr Broussard for me will you?" You waved at her as she closed the door.

As soon as the door closed you slammed the oven shut with the bread inside.

"ALASTOR HARTFELT!"

The coffee spewed from his lips as he stood up to face you "honey listen-"

"Don't you 'honey' me! You promised you'd stop this!" You placed your apron on the counter as you circled around to meet him at the cashier "You said you were out to go hunting!" You poked his chest as you cornered him.

"(Y/n) it wasn't a lie! I was hunting! For the scum of the earth!" Alastor held his hands up in defense from your accusations, trying to reason with you and get back onto your good side.

"You know damn well what I think of your little hunting!" You grabbed your purse and started for the door before he blocked your path.

"(Y/n), dearest, where are you going?" His smile could not hide the panic in his eyes.

"Away from you, I'll be at mimzys until you can decide which one you'd prefer to give up "you pushed him aside and opened the door "me? Or your little 'huntin'?" You slammed the door as you walked to mimzys club.

Just because you didn't care that he did the murders before, didn't mean you were okay with him continuing them. Part of you thought you could eventually get him to see the good in the world again and leave behind this cold blooded killing, he loved you enough to do that at least right? Then maybe when you two grow old and wrinkly, God could open the golden gates for both of you... if your foolish boyfriend could ever stop hurting innocent people...

You sat on the stool with mimzy, drinking a glass of wine.

"I just don't get it! How can he keep choosing to go 'hunting' almost every night, mimz?! Doesn't he see the danger?" You sighed.

The short blonde looked at you "what can I say dollface? Boys will be boys! They've gotta have some sort of hobby, an most of the time, it's a gruesome one! Why can't they just take up knittin or even painting? Always hunting or boxing I say" mimzy took a swig "and every night? That's harsh! Doesn't he see how pretty you are?"

The two of you giggled.

Nights like these were always nice, just you and mimzy sitting in the empty bar, drinking and talking the night away.

"At this point mimzy, I think its better for me to just stay alone though, it doesn't seem like he's changing anytime soon and I don't know how long I can take this" you looked down at the glass, running your finger along the brim...

"Its okay girly" mimzy rested her hand on your shoulder "I'm sure he'll come around eventually, either way, I'm here for ya"

She really was one of your best friends.

Your conversation was interrupted when you heard a slight creak in the floorboards behind you two, making you turn around.

"This place is really getting old, I'm gonna need to find a way to get a new place" mimzy sighed.

The night went by fast as you two talked, and before you know it, you were right back in front of your bakery, sign lights were off as you opened the door, silently clicking the lock before making your way to the upstairs where your humble abode resided.

Alastor most likely went to blow off some steam, he tended to do that after your arguments/fallout.

You had left in such a hurry that you forgot to take out the bread from the oven, but luckily, alastor had seen you bake many times and finished the loaf before placing it on the cooling rack.

By the time you finished downstairs, it was midnight as you started walking upstairs, exhausted from the days work and alastor fiasco.

When you opened your door, you were met with a nervous Alastor standing straight and tense in front of you.

"I have something to say-" you both said in unison.

Alastor seemed to tremble as the words left your lips, still unable to make eye contact.

"I know it's not very gentlemanly of me, but may I go first?" His words almost came out as a mumble as his smile was strained.

You nodded, indicating he may continue.

"Thank you" Alastor took a shaky breath before looking you in the eyes "darling, I know I haven't made it easy for you with my... hunting... but I promise-"

Anger boiling in your blood, you interrupted him "do you know how many times you've told me that lie, Alastor?" Your nose scrunched up in anger as you tried to hold back tears "how many more times am I going to keep hearing this?"

Alastors wide eyes showed the fear he had of losing you, making your heart ache even more than it already was.

"I promise... my dear, this is the truth" Alastor took a gentle step forward, eyes trained on the ground.

placing your hands in his "I've put a lot of thought into it... and although I don't like the idea of being unable to kill those filthy vermin... I realized i can't live in a world without you in my arms"

Alastor ran his fingers gently over your knuckles, a gentle smile placed on his lips, almost dropping to a frown.

"I can change... and I know you want me to, I'll put in the effort to become the man you want, the man you need..." Alastor lifted your hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he placed a soft kiss.

The anger you felt died down, but still hesitant, you asked "how can I be sure you mean it?"

Finally looking back into your eyes again, he knelt down on one knee, still holding your hands "I, Alastor Hartfelt, would like to ask you, (y/n) (l/n), for your hand in marriage, I swear on my mother's grave that I will never take your words lightly, love you with undying devotion, and never kill again" he then rested his forehead onto your knuckles gently before he desperately whispered "please"

This proposal was not exactly practical, considering your argument not even 6 hours ago. There was no ring, no classy dinner, it wasn't how anyone would imagine a marriage proposal, yet here you were, heart beating rapidly as you felt tears fill your eyes.

Your words felt stuck in your throat as you looked into your lovers eyes "do you mean it?"

For what felt like the first time, Alastors smile dropped as his face held a serious expression "with all my heart, ma' cherie"

Your knees buckled as you fell into his arms, tears streaming down your face as you held your lover tightly, whispering out a shaky "Yes" into his chest.

Months went by, the wedding went off without a hitch.

Mimzy was your maid of honor. No one else was really there for your wedding, considering your family had cut ties with you years ago, and all Alastors' relatives were either deceased or overseas.

Nonetheless it was a happy and joyful union.

Alastor had kept true to his word and never killed another human, kissing your shiny ring every night like a reminding prayer.

Your bakery gained popularity since you were now Mrs Hartfelt. But popularity has its downsides... it wasn't long until women started talking about you, jealous of your position as Alastors wife.

The words themself didn't hurt you much, but the constant harassment and inability to leave the house without being called a harlot, that was slowly getting to you.

Alastor had assured you many nights before bed that things would get better, and if need be, he would give up his career as a radio host. The poor man would do anything for your happiness, anything to assure that you'd stay his forever...Even kill if you'd permit him to.

But there was only so much Alastor could do... it wasn't until one evening when you failed to show up to your shared home that he began to lose it.

Alastor was on edge, thinking of all the possibilities, you could've been held back at the bakery by a man who held ill intentions, you could be checking in with mimzy or got taken by a jealous fan. So many thoughts raced through his head as he slowly made his way to the door to look for you, eventually deciding against it, sitting back down as he patiently waited for your return...

Except you didn't.

It wasn't until a whole sleepless night had passed when he decided to go search for you. But of course, he came home empty handed. Were you unhappy in this marriage? Did you elope with a man he didn't know about? Did you realize you didn't love him and run away?

The second option was to call the police, something he's never done before.

The police launched an investigation, it was only until a month later, you were found in an alleyway, someone had called the cops about a crazy woman attacking a man, the situation escalated to the man killing her in self-defense.

They found traces of drugs in your blood, filing you as a drug abuser.

your body was frail and malnourished, pale like it had been weeks since you last seen the sun.

Alastor was called to the scene to see if this lady was indeed his wife.

When he arrived, he felt like the world was about to open up and swallow him whole.

As his eyes fell onto your pale lifeless body, something snapped inside of him.

You were never one to use drugs, never one to attack someone for no reason... something was wrong.

He knelt down and held your hand with tears in his eyes. Although he had seen many dead bodies in his life, this was the one body he never wanted to see like this.

He hated how your body was treated the same as the trash that walked the earth, like a lowly peasant when instead, the world should weep for the loss of you.

'This is all wrong' he thought, as he cradled your body in his lap as your blood stained his white shirt, but he couldn't care less as the last ray of light left his dark world.

It was long after your funeral, he hasn't been able to sleep since then. Every night he'd wait until daybreak for your arrival, like this was all some twisted joke.

It wasn't until one day he realized you needed revenge.

Yes, he promised to never kill anyone, but that was when you were alive, when you were beside him, when he was able to fall asleep with you by his side every night, Before you were selfishly taken from him.

He hasn't slept in days, maybe weeks? He couldn't remember... all he knew was that the man needed to pay for what he did to you...

It took a while but he eventually found the lying heathen.

There he was, sitting at mimzys bar, the same bar he met you, sitting on the same stool that YOU would sit on... it made Alastor sick watching this man live like he didn't take you away from him.

Alastor walked in, and sat beside the wretched man.

"You seem familiar" Al questioned, sipping on his whiskey.

The smug bastard grinned before turning to him "I'm the hero that took down that crazy bitch not long ago"

It took all of Alastors' willpower to seem calm and oblivious.

"My, you must be quite the hero then, let me buy you a drink and you can tell me ALL about it" Alastor motioned for a drink to be served, and the unknowing bastard fell right into Alastors wicked game.

It didn't take long to say the least. This prick was an easy target, and now here he was, being buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere.

You surely would not be happy with your dear husband actions... but who could stop him now?

For months, the spilling killer of New orleans went on a rampage, almost no one was safe, not even dear old Marjorie...

Eventually, alastor had killed all the men and women involved in your kidnapping and drugging... and here he was, burying the last one...

What would he do now? You weren't there for him to return to... all his plans revolved around your future with him

I guess all he could do now

.

.

.

Was Die

As if on cue, a bullet pierced Alastors skull straight through his forehead... as everything went black...

Hello! I've been working on this for a while now, at least a week, and I think I'm just going to make another part for this, keep an eye open for it cause it will hold the afterlife of these two lovers!

[judasgot-it]

Kaldo Dating Headcanons

Some nsfw themes ig sorry </3

He's both a stereotypical conservative "we have to court before we're married" type of guy

And also a bit of a freak

Will take his girl to a really nice party and then will also lick honey off of her toes bro is a certified FREAK

Had to put it out there. I refuse to believe he's vanilla lmao

Rich people are always the freakiest out there. Kaldo is no exception bro is 100% into that weird shit

I think he's a good boyfriend though, just a little weird about gender roles and probably messy as hell

He cooks but I dont think he cleans all too well. Bro grew up from generational wealth and inherited a powerful sword, cleaning is the last thing on his mind

Sorry to his girlfriend he can get better bro just kinda is used to the rich lifestyle and not having to do shit for himself

He 100% will do a whole bunch of random social rules the rich and old use when it comes to dating. For some reason, they work

Like "make sure you go on a date once a month" and "tell her you love her" kind of bullshit. I think Kaldo is a good guy and would not fumble a baddie.

Some don't. He once took his girl to a place his parents liked to go when they were courting and it was so boring they both cried

He also sends an ungodly amount of letters. You'd think he likes writing poetry more than he likes his girlfriend sometimes

He just misses her when he's away :(

Is actually really weird and will have a photo of her by him when he's eating if she isnt there. Yes even at meetings. Now Ryoh does it, because he deems it as a contest to see who loves their partner more

Bro talks about her as if thats his wife he's known for years when they've only courted for like a month or two. Everyone is sick of his ass bro is like 27 acting like he's 12

For some reason likes her magic more than his own. Like, he'll avoid using his as much as possible but this idiot is going to ask her to use a spell at the slightest convenience

Brags about it. He thinks her magic is really cool, even if she doesn't really care for it

Would 100% help her improve too. He's technically a teacher, so he really just can't help it

Bro tries to argue and give advice over stupid things, cause that's just his thing, but he gives up usually

Learned to just make her food. Does it silently too, she wont even notice that he's feeding her while shes sobbing about some random shit she saw while walking home

Food is probably their love language in the relationship. they can almost breakup but dinner would fix it no problem

Hungry ahhhh bastards over here

[ryndicate]

Heatwave

Kirishima x fem!reader

Notes: I am here but also not here. Hitting the dash and running away again. Not a comeback, I just love grimetown and couldnt let the block party down:)!! @bastardblvd here's my "heatwave" submission. Very last minute, very improvised because I have had quite the month, but i gave it my best.

Warnings: we have an ex boyfie, some other slimeball residents make background appearances, make out sesh, manipulation, this is kinda tame and I'll probably add more some day but I'm burnt for now. This is future roommate!Kiri in his uni days!

"I'm leaving in 30 seconds with or without your gorgeous ass!"

Frustration boils across your skin in tandem with the sticky summer heat.

You stick your head out of the bathroom door and yell down the stairs at your roommate peering up from below.

"Give me two damn minutes to fix my hair and then we'll go—cool it, won't you?"

Mina sighs dramatically and leans against the open door with a carrying whine. "That's the whole point of leaving babe. Our place and every other place on campus? Furnace. Slime house? Paradise. Sweet air conditioned paradise. What's more important, ac or your hair?"

"You don't get it!"

You groan and slump over the counter, glaring at your reflection. Every inch of your much exposed skin is covered in a shiny layer of sweat. Makeup is out of the question because you're not out to look like a melting doll, so you really need your hair to do you some favors.

Every summer, grimetown's merciless heat has every dormgoer cranking their ac until it inevitably overrides the whole circuit and sinks every room on campus into the pits of hell—except the fraternity of Sigma Lamdba Iota Mu Epsilon, or Slime House as they call it. One of their frat is the secret key to keeping their generator and, more importantly, their central air up and running.

You can hear her lightly stomping up the stairs until she's in the doorway. Her crop top is damp with sweat, pink cheeks flushed as she throws you her best pleading eyes.

"I swear, I'll drown him in their pool if he says a single word to you. Deal? I'm going to burst into flames here."

"Fine," you grumble, tearing yourself away from the bathroom regretfully and allowing your much relieved roommate to lead you down the stairs and out the door and—

"How the fuck is it even hotter outside?" You complain loudly, squinting in the golden haze of the summer air.

Mina grumbles, her hair almost visibly frizzing in response to the awful humidity. "Let's just go."

It's a short and disgusting walk across campus to Slime House and you're halfway down the block to their place before you're already hearing the music and squeals and laughter.

You wince at the line leading up to the spacious porch. "I guess I took longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You glance briefly up at the sun, wondering how bad of a sunburn you'd get before the line eases up when Mina grabs your wrist and tugs you around the line.

"Are you crazy? The people in this line would kill someone for a cup of ice—" you hiss desperately.

Mina ignores you and pulls you past the glares and grumbles up to the porch where a familiar face greets you with a nailbiting smirk from his gatekeepering lawnchair.

"Good to see you ladies, nice day isn't it?"

"Naoya," Mina coos sweetly giving him a wide smile. "Any chance of some hot babes skipping the line?"

He hums softly, sharp eyes sliding from her to you and back, eyebrow perking in exaggerated thought. "I don't know, seems kinda unfair doesn't it?"

"Probably something to do about that, huh?" Mina nods sagely. "You know I have a pretty good in with Prof Nanamin this semester, how're your business Econ lectures going?"

Naoya's eyes gleam. "You know what, I think we can squeeze you in. Drinks are in the coolers in the backyard, upstairs bathrooms are off-limits, please no drugs in the pool–not after last time–and for the love of god," Naoya sighs like long suffering office worker, glancing up at you, "Please go talk Bakugou. He's insufferable."

Your face wrinkles up like you'd bitten a lemon rind. Mina quickly cuts off your no doubt scathing retort and with a breezy "sure thing!" And drags you into the house.

Your irritation at the talk of your ex is almost immediately killed and forgotten as wonderful goosebumps rise across your sweat-slicked skin as the central air blankets your body. You sigh and Mina groans in relief. On any given day, the amount of bodies in this house would probably be just as boiling, but compared to outside today, there's no comparison to be made.

Mina turns to you. "Don't stress too much about Bakugou. I'm sure he's plenty busy making sure someone doesn't burn this place down. Besides," she gives you a knowing grin, "you have other things to worry about. Like Mr. Sunshine himself."

Your anger fades completely as a mix of uncertainty and giddiness swirls in your stomach. You and Bakugou had broken up weeks ago, another stupid bitter argument lost in the wind and this time your foot is down. Crawling back into his bed again, as inviting as the presidential suite (and its owner) may be, is not an option right now. Not since a certain sharp smiled someone started seeming like his warm small talk was looking for something a little more than friend of friends.

"Still not so sure that's a good idea, they're friends—" you start off as you follow her to the backyard for something to drink.

"And Kirishima is probably the one friend that he wouldn't be mad at about," Mina reasons, popping the cap on two bottles from the cooler. She grabs an icecube before closing it and presses it to your forehead, which immediately begins to melt and stream down the bridge of your nose. You push her hand away with a chuckled huff.

"Isn't that worse?"

"What's worse is letting an incompatibility stop you from exploring an avenue where you're much better suited."

"I guess."

"I'm thinking about swimming," Mina says, eyeing the pool.

You glance at the water and hum. Denji and Power are chickenfighting Izuku and Mei; there's a handsome white-haired man in sunglasses who looks suspiciouly too old to be here resting on a duck floatie, and Yuuji and Eren both look like they're trying to drown each other in the shallow end, snickering and wrestling. "Looks kinda crowded. You also didn't bring a suit."

"Sure didn't," she sing-songs mischievously, glancing down at her shorts and crop top. "You coming?"

"I think I'm gonna go find an empty room to nap in, to be honest. It's too hot for much else."

Mina scrutinizes you. "You're hiding from him, aren't you."

"No." You give her wide, innocent eyes, squirming inside from how well she knows you.

She just gives you a look and a small wave, and you offer her a weak smile as you disappear back into the house and make a beeline for the stairs and a very intentional left in the opposite direction of Bakugou's bedroom.

You've been here plenty of times of course, but really only to see him, so you've not really explored the rest of Slime House, leaving you a little lost as you tried to find a room that doesn't have a sock on the door. You know there's more frat brothers than there are rooms in this place, so as to who actually lives here, you couldn't name each one of them for certain outside of Bakugou, Kirishima, and Naoya. Oh and Izuku of course, the ac benefactor himself.

There's a door hanging slightly open that you push farther to see is vacant and quickly shut it behind you. There's two beds, obviously a shared room, and the air reeks with a mix of stale weed and fabreeze. To the left is a rumpled black bedspread with pillows that actually looks inviting if it weren't for the tipped over laundry basket sprawled across it. It kind of looks like someone dug through their hamper for as clean of an item as they could get and then abandoned the rest.

The other bed is about as well made but at least no laundry, so ease past the stack of weights in front of the bed and you rest down on the red comforter, not even bothering to pull it back and close your eyes with a sigh.

The air vent is on the floor next to this bed and it kicks on so you let your hand rest off the edge of the bed, the flow blowing up your skin and you sink deeper into the mattress with a content sigh. The pillow smells faintly of sandalwood and sweat that you can't discount as your own so you don't even react.

Music pours dully through the door from the rest of the house as well as voices that mull into a drone and puts you in a comfortable dozing state. You're probably only a few minutes from falling into actual sleep when the door cracks open slowly and your eyes open immediately.

Self-conscious, you sit up to see Kirishima halfway through the doorway with a look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, my bad. Didn't know someone was in here," he says, giving you an apologetic wave.

"Sorry, did you need the room?" Your cheeks are warm in the not sun-kissed way at the thought of all those "occupied" rooms you passed on the way here.

"Just came to change my shirt. It uh, yeah. Don't ask." He scoots his way fully into the room and you can see what looks like could be salsa staining the whole front of his white tank top.

He pulls it over his head and throws it in the basket on the floor in front of the closet and starts digging for a new shirt in the nearby dresser. You can't help but notice the ripple of muscle down his back, and glance away. Red eyes glance at you speculatively.

"Not up for a party?"

You give him a wan smile. "Not quite that. Alone felt more comfortable."

"Yeah?" He twists the material of a new shirt in his hands. "Do you need me to go then?"

"I mean it's your room, I should be the one go—" you can tell you're being awkward, but it feels like there's nothing you can do about it.

"Can't say I want you to go."

You stare at him. Kirishima gives you a sheepish grin, scratching at the back of his neck. He eases closer to what you realize is his own bed.

"So... I'm no good at this. Cards on the table, Sero saw you come in and threw food at me on purpose, said it was a good chance to talk to you. I wanted to, to come talk to you I mean."

Butterflies surge in your stomach and an unconscious smile crosses your face.

"Kirishima, that's really sweet but..." You start softly and his face visibly falls.

"I already talked to him, you know." You wince and he continues earnestly. "We're bros, it's not like you never came up."

"I'm sure he had great things to say."

"Of course he did."

You give him an uncertain look and he just smiles, the edges of his teeth appearing. "Honest. Everything's fine."

"Am I supposed to be fine with his blessing then?" The sarcastic rebuttal shoots out of your mouth before you can even think and you immediately begin to backtrack. "Sorry, that was really rude—"

Kirishima laughs comfortingly as your stricken expression rushes to recover. He sits next to you on the bed, his shoulder brushing yours. "No its fine, I mean I'm not exactly doing great at this either. So much for Mina's touted 'compatibility', huh?"

You laugh loudly in embarrassment as a realization strikes you. "Oh my god, she's at the root of this, isn't she. How many of them are in this, pushing us together? Am I that hopeless? I'm not that bad, am I?"

He laughs, bumping shoulder with you. "I mean, I don't think so. I'll take all the help I can get. Worth it."

You giggle and nudge him back before flopping back in the bed, not quite oblivious to the way his eyes track your exposed skin. Feeling a little adventurous you nod him closer and a grin breaks across his face as he lays down next to you, propped up on his arm.

"Hypothetically, if I—

"Hypothetically, of course," you nod in humor and a blush crawls up his cheeks despite his confident smile.

"If I were to try and kiss you right now, how well would that go?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe you just try your chances and see," you coo teasingly.

You give a shrieking little giggle as Kirishima gently wrestles you onto your back only to gasp as he presses his lips to yours with no more preamble.

They're warm and sure, eager even, and you're wrapped up before you know it, opening your mouth at the first hint of tongue and moaning as you feel a possibly intentional nick of his teeth. You can feel his excitement growing against your thigh and warmth is settling back into the room.

"Guess my chances were pretty good after all." His voice has dropped to a husk that sends a flutter up your spine.

"Guess so," you return, catching your breath back.

He shifts a little so that you're not bearing more of his weight and glances at the door. "It's getting pretty hot in here, I think we actually lost the ac."

"Don't say that."

Kirishima glances at you sympathetically before trying to raise the mood again with a theatrical wiggle of his eyebrows. "Could always lose a few layers to cool down."

You laugh as you glance down at your already scanty summer outfit. "You think so?"

He rumbles enticingly, with humor but exposed intention, dark eyes roaming your body before looking right into your own. "Couldn't hurt."

You worry your lower lip in thought, his hungry expression driving your thoughts and sending you down the road of no return. You reach behind yourself and unhook the clasp of your bra and pull it from your shirt under his watchful gaze.

Kirishima's eyes don't leave you as you hold the flimsy material out to him.

"Hang this on the door."

His sharp grins says plenty, but how quickly he bounds off the bed reveals more.

Outside the door waits Izuku, whose face brightens in question. "Is it working?"

Kirishima shoves the bra into his hands.

"Pretty sure this is worth more to you than the fifty dollars I promised. Keep the air off for another hour.... two hours." Kirishima whispers hurriedly before moving to shut the door in his face.

"What about Katsuki?"

The redhead grins. "Keep him busy for me."

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Lmao here, have the most ridiculously broad and all-encompassing writer ask ever to distract you:

How in the hell do you make a plot?

Jk, mostly. 😅 This is more a ramble than an ask I guess. I keep tinkering with the idea of actually writing A Story, but I just. I don't know. I get so bored so fast with the process of moving characters from Point A to Point B. I just want to stick people in a room and make them talk. (Or possibly make out, depending on the scenario.) Or I want to spend thousands of words just going on and on about a character's thoughts and emotions. That all works well for oneshot fanfics, but it's awful for doing longer fics or attempting something original. I just don't know how to make characters Go Places and Do Things and Have Goals. Which like...obviously you're not going to be able to magically solve that problem for me in a single post, but...any tips to get started that don't involve falling into the inescapable dungeon of Outlining?

Plot has always been an issue for me. Many moons ago, an agent told me that my book had a great voice but nothing actually happened in it: it was like one of those narrators you'd say you'd listen to read a phone book. Except, you know. Maybe it'd be nice if it wasn't a phone book.

I've had a tendency in the past to, ah...just have a series of things happen. Which is not actually a plot. It's a katamari ball. You can't just write things happening for several thousand words and then be like "ta-da!"

Well, I mean, you can. But it sure wasn't gettin' me an agent.

I'm getting better at this, I think, and structuring stories in general. Tiadane's book was the first book I got notes back from a CP that didn't basically say "the pacing and structure of this is fucked."

(Of course, I'm changing some of that anyway, but it's more incidental to other things I'm fixing than the major concern)

That said, it usually takes me a zero draft (first draft) to really figure out what the story is about and how to take it there. Every single ending for a story I had in mind before I got there has had to be ripped out. Every. Single. One. For ever novel I've ever edited. I'm so bad at getting to an ending I envisioned, because if I actually let the characters develop and change and the world build around them and the themes come through, where I wanted them to end up and the scenes I envisioned, is never really the culmination of how to do it.

A plot is really how a story develops. For me, this is generally character-based. For some people it's the world, for some people it's the actual events.

For a character story, the plot is basically what events are the catalyst that bring them to where they're going. How do they get there, and what happens to them to push them there? How did they react, and to what?

For a world story, the plot is generally focused on unfolding events around the world. I've seen this done with characters in different areas and or characters traveling, or even just in a kind of Epicenter. The plot will be how the world is changing, or how the world is being revealed to the reader, and what that means.

For a story of events, the plot is generally encircled around how things happen, who caused them and why, and what they do when they do happen, and what else they cause to happen.

I usually have a good strong start for about 10k words, and then the plot fizzles out as the initial concept I was running with has sort of been fulfilled and something needs to happen from it.

The way this happened in Tiadane's book was that he basically jumped into a goal, he completed the steps he set out to do, but it all went very wrong. And while he managed to get out of that disaster and take a breather, he had a couple choices: he could give up, or he could try something else to accomplish the goal (and what), or he could clean up the mess he accidentally made, etc.

Each of those would have been a very different Character, obviously. But what the important part of this character story was, was that he made a choice based on who he is as a character, but that he was the one reacting and doing something. There's characters stories about passive characters who don't do much, but they're not especially common because when a character isn't making choices (or perceived not to be), it gets really hard to reveal a character and the story doesn't go anywhere.

Sure, you could keep throwing things at them. But if those Various Things That Are Happening don't feel tied to something before (the character or other events), you have a string of events, not a nicely rising tide of story.

So it's not a matter of "things happening" but "which things going to happen to them after they did that?" and "what things are they going to do now?" and "what things are going to tell you what you want readers to know about the character?"

Sub character with world or events, as necessary.

Okay NOW I'm done, for now.

[thessalian]

Thess vs the Eclipse Resurgence

A little more Forbidden West ... except not really in the Forbidden West, mostly.

Okay, so - off I go to this clearing. Well, there's all the blood, and ... well, here we go, Focus says third person. Let's follow the third person.

Oop, there goes a raccoon. I could Focus it but it'll be got away by the time I-- Oh. I just ... approximated its trajectory and shot it. DAMN I'm good.

Why do these people not just kill the machines when the machines are in their way? It's not hard! You'd figure everyone wandering around outside a settlement would go armed when there's a possibility of machines in the way! Ah, well - at least that means I'll never be out of a job. ...At least, if I save the world. I guess it's not going to matter either way if I don't.

Aha! Cave! Wow. Cave full of shinies. Treasure caves for the win.

Huh. Yeah, that's Eclipse alright. Shooty time.

Wow. I'm getting good at melee stealth kills. Then again, how far am I down the Infiltrator tree? Yeesh.

"We should go check". Yeah, c'mon down into the nice dark cave where I can shoot the living hell out of you people. YOU PEOPLE WERE SUCH PAINS IN MY ASS AND I'M NOT DEALING WITH IT AGAIN IF I DON'T HAVE TO.

...Oh. Was I supposed to fight them out here? Eh well. they came to me. That seems a nicer way of dealing with it.

Eclipse with Focus. Great. And apparently the wanting to set up whole armies in the Forbidden West to TAKE OVER THE WORLD-- oh for fuck's sake. I guess this is what @true0neutral meant by "You'll like what they have in place of bandit camps", hmm?

Right. Mask for proof and ... okay, brief raid of the rest of the shinies in this cave and then I will go back.

Ooh. Nighttime. And Fanghorns in the way. Yay, Zen hunting!

...Fuck. I think I lost a Scrounger down a cliff. Eh well.

Go, Conovar, be freeeeeee! No, please, enjoy the being free. You don't want to dedicate your life to a cause; it sucks. I can take on another cause; it's fine.

Right. Now, how do I glide? Okay, now you're not giving me helpful hints. I want the helpful hints; how do I fucking glide? Lemme check the keybinds - and you don't tell me either! Fuck's sake. Fine, lemme do some testing; I'm sitting on all the medicinal berries in the world anyway.

...Fuck this. The glider no longer exists. Fuck it and fuck my life.

Right. Onward to the scavenger place. Ooh, hey, foxes! I need fox parts! Let's do this!

Ooooooooookay I saw some of that stuff I see in the distance at the far edges of Nora territory etcetera, but I seem to recall it looking somewhat less like a fucking Reaper. Didn't I have enough of this shit on the final run to the Beam in Mass Effect 3? And I had better weapons until Harbinger wrecked my shit up and left me with nothing but a hand cannon to deal with the final boss of Marauder fucking Shields. ...At least I can trust Guerilla not to do that to me.

Ugh. No, dead-by-Blight fox is not worth this. Man, I spend far too much time in games where the Blight is a thing and red things radiate deadliness of that sort. Now I kind of wonder what the colour-blind accessibility options do because for those of us who can see colours in the usual way, red means danger but red is also the grass we hide in for stealth. MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND.

Hi, Scavenger dude. Oh, you want to make spiffy armour? Cool. Ah. You're running a contest and this poor jerk's stuck without parts. Well. You've given me an excuse to Zen-hunt, Poor Jerk, so I will be nice to you. I like hitting up Shellwalkers anyway.

Precision arrow quiver upgraded YEEEEEES. And that's the achievement for having upgraded all the bags at least once. I like achievements. They're fun.

I ... should take a break or something. More coffee. Food. Then pick what the hell I want to do next. I see ... one of those Eclipse camps ... a Large Metal Bird hunting spot, and a whoooole lot of Fog of War, so there's probably a Tallneck out there someplace. ADVENTURE! ...Yeah, okay, and saving the world, but lemme HUNT.

So I'mma go grab some potato salad and coffee and then get back to the ADVENTURE. If nothing else, this has so far been a great way to hyperfocus past the OW I woke up with today. I mean, the paracetamol helped a bit, but sometimes, even when moving hurts, I just have to keep weaponising my hyperfocus tendencies. I could be a grumpy sod about the fact that it took forty-some years to figure out that I probably have ADHD, especially when it's often misdiagnosed as borderline personality disorder in women and I was diagnosed with that over twenty years ago, but ... I'm honestly not that much? I still prefer having a diagnosis when I can, but at the same time, I did at least figure out how to not only work around the whole mess but even use some of it to my advantage. See also: hyperfocus as an all-natural painkiller, and setting my executive dysfunction to work against my impulsivity tendencies so I don't end up bankrupting myself stupidly. I guess we all figure it out eventually.

[davekat-sucks]

I think it would suck horribly to be friends with trolls if you're human (hell even a troll). Tavros and Xefros being the exception and a few others, most are just so violent and mean and would probably murder you over the pettiness of shit. Take a look at friendsim, see how majority of them would kill someone and have no problem with it. Trolls are instinctually a violent species, not peaceful and I'm wondering how the hell the adjusted to human customs in comic? Kanaya obsessively watches Rose, Karkat was obsessive over Terezi, Equius tried to Force Aradia to love him, Vriska tormented Tavros, point is it's natural for them to take things to the extreme even if it would hurt their love interest or friends. Isn't it IRONIC that out of my examples Eridan was the most emotionally mature about his feelings? The bar really is that low. Sure he bugged (ha pun) everyone but at least stopped after he was rejected. Even with the whole joining Jack bullshit he was giving Feferi an option to come with him. He didn't kill her because of rejection, he killed her out of self defense and even tried to apologize to her when dead, he feels remorse for his actions. Karkat fucked up big time and admits it, he do nothing to diffuse anything and was focused on Terezi pussy. Trolls are a terrifying species and they would not be soft and cute are they are so commonly portrayed you'd have to be crazy to even date one

If not only biologically that they are violent creatures, but the living conditions that the trolls had to go through was also hell that it is instincts first before logic and reason. Anything and anyone could kill you at a drop of a dime. Whether it is from the wild animals that live by or to the literal acid rain that pours down the planet. Trolls, when they start as wrigglers, need to rely on their lusus being strong and smart against the ecosystem of their planet. They have advance technology, but the start of how they raised are feral for the most, even for highbloods since they are born in the same caverns as other trolls have. Eridan could have used his highblood status to make others like him. But he never did. He had power close to Feferi's, but never used it to force it on others. Sort of surprising people look past Equius making Aradia love him via a robot programming. Yes he does get his beat shit out of him and a kiss that ended to be a joke, since they weren't really together together. But also not even Aradia speaks to Equius again when he became ARquiusprite. So it shows much how Aradia cared little about Equius too, in both pre and post retcon. Tavros and Xefros would definitely be the only exception of trolls being the nicest and would not harm anyone, not even a fly. People may try to point Nepeta, but they forget she is a hunter. Crazy cute cat shipper girl hunts animals herself for meat and paint. She hunts using her own biological instincts that she honed and trained for sweeps. Nepeta would prefer to hunt a rabbit that shows up in your local town than get it from some grocery store, because the meat is better fresh when they were alive than placed in some fridge for who knows how long. Most fantrolls, especially in the nu-fandom, always go for the route of "trolls rebelling because the hemospectrum system is bad" as the easy way out for why their trolls are more nice and heroic. They want to avoid everything that makes Alternia the way it is or why we were interested in trolls in the first place. We liked the trolls because they were alien and foreign that their lives are different than ours that they accepted their horrible planet as it is. But now, people just think of trolls as just GREY HUMANS. They are not these unique cool aliens anymore. It sucks!

[janiedean]

Dear Lavi, I hope all is well with you! So, you may have probably been asked this before, but I'm still curious. Have you ever seen the animated movie, El Dorado? If so, what characters you like the best? And if you could adapt it to Asoiaf who would you chose as the characters? Sincerely, Cracktastic.

HELLLOOOOO sorry for answering so late but let's say things could be worse and I'm also swamped af -_- anyway: yes I did indeed see el dorado back in the day, it was like... years ago but honestly the main trio was pretty much all on the same degree of I LIKE YOU THREE AND YOU REALLY SHOULD BE AN OT3 TOO BAD IT'S A CARTOON AND IT'S NOT HAPPENING so pretty much I liked them all best and fuck cortez/the high priest

anyway let me think, if we had to asoiaf it... we need a working possible ot3 with people that can pass for criminals or be criminals and two of them going someplace they never set foot in before/no one else set foot in before and some religious fanatic going off and the third one being also a criminal which makes it bit more complicated than usual because without the last bit it could be a jon/sam + ygritte situation with tormund or mance being the nice city chief, ghost in place of the horse and janos slynt or someone like that being cortez (fuck him always) but no one in between the wildlings fits the insane high priest profile unless you make it set absolutely-in-universe and you make that craster somehow which... okay you'd need to change stuff around but it could work even if beyond the wall isn't exactly RICH but hey WE CAN WORK WITH IT, alternatively if you make el dorado the iron islands (.... which I mean........ not rich either but NEVER MIND) and don't go ot3 route and wildly change the character backgrounds/no one is noble™ you can make robb and jon tulio and miguel and theon can be chel except that he just wants to get the fuck out and ends up with the chill guy, aeron/euron can share the high priest, cortez can be whatever asshole brings them there, asha/alannys can be nice head chief bc like hell balon would be nice and in either case we switch stuff and we have both ghost and grey wind in place of the horse X°D idt it's viable with other combinations of characters I actually like but i TRIED UWU

[the-firebird69]

Last night Ken had a problem with Garth and usually does and her son has a problem with him he walks by and he's trying to mess with the bike thinks it'll have to take us a****** car for a ride he can drain him dry then he's saying all the stuff to us so you're very mad later on he upset Ken and he's in the house bothering him for like an hour. And what up to him and said I can call the cops for you on you if you'd like and God said good that would be perfect so he called the cops and Ken levied off a few threats but Garth was harassing him into it, we can move away from his door and the other people are telling him to they all told him to f*** off and Ken called the cops and said here he is and the cops came to the door and rang the bell now they knocked Garth opened it and said oh it's you and said it's for Ken and they said his name it's a cover name it's when he used before and they said we're looking for you and he was evicted under the same name and somehow got back in and you really sitting there threatening Ken to threaten our son your son has had it it's kind of the same plan he's a freaking moron he needs to be burned. So guys let out this yell he's the one starting trouble and the cop said you are trespassing then you're here illegally you have an eviction on you. And all of a sudden Garth started yelling its Trump at the top of his lunch that he's implicated him. And he started to flail around doing like a windmill and Trump had already shot the guy and he was back again, and he's trying to make it dangerous for Ken and he remembered what Garth did he started off flat out refusing that is flailing around and he had them try weapons and didn't work there's two of them and they tackled him. Held him down and handcuffs him and took him to jail they left instructions if he comes back even looking different call us we will arrest him he's pretty slippery then the guy said we agree and we will. The hell guard for like 5 hours and they kept asking the same questions why do you feel you can go back there. And he's answering all these stupid ass questions with stupid answers he's trying to fighting and arguing real loud and the whole police station is telling him to shut the f****** and they're saying this all three of you are absolute miscreants and you're making our lives miserable and they turn to them and said what do you carry you're causing it we're here at each and every time and you don't stop and your little baby this place is a mental institution and it said it too I don't want to be near you you're all mentally ill. He says he's fighting at 2:00 we have to have him in so have a nice time in the middle house tonight chicken little s*** chicken liver. So people heard about it and they started arresting the idiots and it was the pseudo empire and they came in and they had SWAT like gear and they arrested five of the sheriff and it really does not happen in the sheriff's office and they're cited. They're also charged with treason and they're in jail some of them the Trump's got out as usual but they're holding people and they're going to keep doing it they said because what you're doing is illegal and Garth is still there and he's under arrest and Ken feels better because they can kick him out but it helps him. Now this is a new development and there's a few things that are new they're arresting each other for occupying a space here evicted from, they are holding each other for treason, and they are not doing any kind of job except that kind of stupid crap but we're going to use it to the max and it went on his code and they're all screwing each other now and we need them out they're horrible people and it is working we're going to publish now

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[somekindofstrnge]

Fezco wouldn't even try to feed himself some enticing lies : he was far from being the brightest. Having dropped out of school, he'd missed on A LOT of stuff, and not only what classes would teach. Looking back, there might be a part of him that regretted his choices of life. Those regrets would often come with true discomfort, along with the disagreeable sensation this was what it'd feel like to betray the ones he loved, the one who have been RELYING on him for a long, long time. A bitter, awful taste in his mouth. His life was done for. It couldn't change, except perhaps when the age of retirement would come ; he'd get his ass the hell out of this town, then. Get a nice little farm in the middle of nowhere, a place where he wouldn't have to steal and lie and risk his life every breath he'd take. Being a dealer could be done safely, but shit, he had been getting himself stuck into some pretty messed-up stuff. So, if he had to be real with his own expectations, they weren't that HIGH. They were actually pretty low, and that truly sucked because, he never wanted any of this. Some might say he had been doomed from the start, given the unstable familial situation - his father being a piece of crap pulled deep into shady businesses - but hell, he was a firm believer that anyone could change the course of their fate. Only, it felt too late for him to do that, mostly too COMPLICATED. There were huge responsibilities on his shoulders. A lot of guilt too when, in his darkest moments of doubt, he'd be picturing a life without his grandmother, and actually think it'd be EASIER. There'd be more money left to pay for Ash's education ; the little guy deserved to get his head filled with great ideas and philosophies that'd accompany him throughout his entire life, so that he wouldn't end up like his big brother. But it wasn't that easy. And few people actually got that.

While he truly believed that Lexi was a person who'd understand that unstable situation, he had barely mentioned his past or how difficult it was to keep three heads afloat. She also wasn't standing in a perfect family portrait, so he really wouldn't like to sound like a whining kid when life could always get worse. Plus, what good could complaining do ? SHE would never complain, or at least, he never heard her do so. Yes, she was open about what she was going through, and it was surprising how quickly she had started to talk to him about her rocky relationship with Cassie or their mother, or even how she had grown apart from Rue. It wasn't easy, but Lexi was STRONG. She was fucking FEARLESS, talking with so much conviction, so much passion about what she believed in and what she stood for. It could sound like a lie, but she could talk and talk and talk, and Fezco would listen to her for hours. Her voice was calming, her presence soothing. More than once, he'd been overwhelmed with the sudden urge of taking her hand and squeezing it with all the tenderness in his body. He never did. He was scared she might vanish the second he'd reach out, as if she was nothing but a product of his imagination. A DREAM.

Chuckling, the young man relished in that simple, soft moment he'd share with her. Mostly, his ears drank the sound of her laughter, as well as the compliments she gratuitously threw his way. While firmly believing that he did not deserve half of what she said, he knew better than to argue with her. "Hell, 'm not gonna argue with you, you'd destroy me in less than a minute." He replied in the same tone, a giddy smile playing on his lips. God, he wished he could tell her what hearing all of this did to him. How it made him want to cry, to hold her, to sway her around, to never LET GO ... Still bashfully looking away, he shook his head, feeling warmth creeping up his cheeks. "Y'know, you're not just book-smart. There's much more than that to you, Lexi. You're like, so cool, y'know what I mean ? Like ... hell yeah, you don't believe in God, you put up with some bullshit people get, that's not something you get in books. Hell, what's existential intelligence all about, anyway ?"

Hearing Fezco's chuckle slipping off his lips with SUCH EASY brought one out of Lexi. If she stopped to realise it, which wasn't hard, she would see how often she would smile whenever she happened to be somewhere close to him. It both amused but amazed her how effortlessly happy he would make her, ESPECIALLY if she considered she wasn't one to open up to many people. Lexi would often lie but only when it was to herself; she said that she preferred to keep it in, when in reality she wasn't even AWARE she had some internal world of her own. But she did get FULLY AWARE of it, when Fezco would stay around to listen. When he did appreciate what she said, that was quite as warm as it would be if he was just pulling her into an EMBRACE. It was hard to grasp how EXACTLY he did it, but if anything, it just made her relish his company ALL THE MOST, as well as listen to EVERY PIECE of his own mind back. Because Fezco was bright, he was intelligent, he was caring, whether he saw it or not, she knew he was just by what she knew of him.

Honestly knew well she was different of him, whatsoever. She knew Fezco dealt with stuff . . . Well, stuff she probably wouldn't ever get onto in her life, but still. That just brought her some THOUGHTS on how he would come up with THINGS she often wouldn't have in her own perspective. Lexi wanted to hold his hands sometimes, say how EVERYTHING would be okay . . . despite of it being pretty cliché, or how she couldn't properly be certain of it, it was always good to hear it. And she honestly wanted to be his comfort person, like he had become her own, ALL OVER TIME. Lexi had heard before of how relationships, be it romantic or not, were destined to come but go . . . She had seen it. Lexi had witnessed it with Cassie, her many lost lovers, lost FRIENDSHIPS, so she was slightly scared it would become like that with Fezco, because in honesty, she didn't want him to go. Perhaps, well, certainly, she was becoming more ATTACHED like she hadn't yet stopped to notice until THEN.

"Okay, well, want honesty? You're only silly when you ACT LIKE THAT, silly," Lexi joked, pushing his side playfully yet of course with her usual gentleness, "You ARE smart yourself, listen, it's something you should know, Fez . . . Books intelligence isn't THE ONLY THING that counts. There's . . . Existential," she stated, remembering how it was useful when writing her own play on getting in character's head, FOR EXEMPLE, "Musical . . . Intrapersonal, Interpersonal, Bodily . . . And you see? I can see you in at least ALL THE LAST ONES I've just mentioned, so you can't argue with me," she shrugged, giggling in knowing she meant it. Fezco was MORE, like he was making her believe she also could be.

[elysiumarchieve]

Scaramouxhe x mute reader? Headcanins before and after he became a 'god'

NAUR i think that honestly would be so cute😭 protective lover scaramouche who always knows exactly what you want and need MY HEART hc that he knows sign language

and PLEASE tell me if there is anything wrong, i tried researching more on mute people for this because i actually have never met anyone who is mute, so i tried my best😭

scaramouche x mute! gn! reader

warnings: fluff?? scaramouche isn't as much of a little shit in this as he usually is, he has a soft nonexistent heart, sort of 3.2 archon quest spoilers

✧ this is the embodiment of "they asked for no pickles" meme if you actually ask me

✧ scaramouche, although far more attentive when it comes to your needs, is still the same little shit you'd expect him to be. just because you're mute doesn't mean you're dumb and you understand him very well

✧ however, the difference lies in how he really treats you compared to everyone else - you're his beloved s/o and anyone mishandling you earned themself a nice warm place in whatever hell teyvat possesses

✧ scaramouche learnt rather quickly what you like and dislike and what things make you comfortable and uncomfortable. there is no need for you to even try and tell him you're feeling unwell, because he'll already be on his guard and leave at the slightest discomfort you might experience - he reads the room too well for someone who usually doesn't give a damn about human emotions and their needs

✧ there are people bothering you? the next day you find them on their knees, beaten up and bruised, begging you to tell your lover off and how they didn't know you were with a fatui harbinger (you didn't even know scaramouche found out about this)

✧ when accompanying him, he always makes sure you're 'heard'. he'd often say things such as "we're going this way" and waits for you to agree to it before continuing any further - it's all about you and what you think. you still have a 'voice', even though you can't speak to him like anyone else, but that's exactly why he puts you above everyone else

✧ a king of non-verbal cues. he's attentive to a point that it feels like his eyes are always on you, taking in every movement of yours and reading you like a book - there is no need for words in the first place. one unsure glance to the side and he'll be there, asking you what's bothering you

✧ while i doubt he knew anything about sign language before meeting you, he put in a lot of effort to learn it rather quickly for you. one, it would make it easier for him to know what you're trying to say and second, he doesn't need anyone to translate it to him nor do you need a notebook or anything else to talk to him

✧ tell him about your day! it doesn't matter how you do it, but he simply wants to see the excitement in your eyes when you go about what you did. he's genuinely interested in what you do

✧ after having received the gnosis and becoming a 'god' in that sense, you clearly saw him less and you were actually under the supervision of the sages who didn't even dare to say anything to you (i mean, your lover was literally becoming their god, what were they supposed to do?)

✧ staying with the doctor of all people wasn't an option either for you. who'd willingly stay with this madman in one room? not you unless you have a few screws loose

✧ if you came to visit scaramouche during his deification, he'd tell you about all the things he knew now - the knowledge he had gained, the things he suddenly felt.. except that he was still your scaramouche, being a little shit about everything

✧ fuck haypasia, his true first follower was always you, the person who was by his side even way before all of this. he had however to commend the sages for keeping you a secret from the traveler thus far. if they found out about you he would've been sure to try and hide you away from them (they could use his only weakness against him, but that would be low, even for the traveler)

✧ he allows you to sit down on these giant mecha hands to bring you closer to him and unless you're afraid of heights, is actually amazing. you look so tiny and vulnerable in his hands but he knows exactly that he can protect you even better now if you needed it (i'm thinking rn, if his arms copy every movement, can the mecha fingers too?? sign language mecha confirmed)

✧ if you manage to establish the same connection to him the way haypasia did, he'd definitely tries visiting you throughout the day, watching you from the shadows and making sure you're okay - this was his gift for you now that he was a 'god', his everlasting protection over you that he promises you

✧ besides that, he can read your thoughts now too, so your conversations would also be a little different from before. sometimes he'd just hold you on his mechanical hands and listen to what you have to say in your thoughts as he answers you whatever it might be

✧ in his eyes, you're beautiful on the outside and on the inside. he can tell from your mind that you're genuine about him and also his goals and it secretly reassures him knowing he has someone to actually keep true to what they promised him - in the end, all he ever wanted was to have a purpose, whether that might be through you or the gnosis he desires so much, he atleast knows that there is one more thing int his world to give him a purpose

✧ unlike any of the false promises made to him a long time ago, he'd make sure to keep them. as for now, he had become a god and he could give you everything you wanted if you just would be a little more patient for him

✧ he has everything he wants now, he finally has the heart he was designed for, he was finally the god he was always supposed to be and he had you, the one person who stood through it all with him up until this point

✧ he'd probably watch over you in your sleep - standing there with crossed arms right next to you, an endearing look in his eyes you would've never thought scaramouche could ever possess and a proud, small smile (he didn't care if anyone saw him, but the naked human eye could not perceive his form unless they were a special case like the traveler)

✧ to say that his ego grew with that realisation would be an understatement, and yet he'd make sure you're okay and that you're safe - even when that pesky traveler, his annoying flying creature and that child archon came to fight him, he'd be sure to make sure no harm would ever befall you and that you were secure and far away

[raynelbabe]

Edge of Midnight

001 Beginning of the End

steve x fem!sinclair!reader

summary - in hawkins,indiana a young girl was preparing for the birth of a new relationship. or the death of an old one. it was a cliche really. and you knew this. falling for your childhood bestfriend. rarely did it end well. one of them always ended up heartbroken. 

Series Masterlist Kofi  A03 Wattpad

Word Count: 2k

Next Chapter

no use of y/n, not beta'd so if you see a mistake pls let me know

November 7, 1983

The air was cold as it whipped past the students of Hawkins High. It was 7:45 on a chilly fall Monday Morning. Students and teachers alike walked through the halls, either loitering around or preparing for their first classes of the day. The entire school was separated into their different cliques.

And considering it was a small town with an even smaller school, there weren't that many. But what clique someone fell into was the most important factor of their entire high school life. Depending on who you were in middle school, or who you blossomed into over the summer, you were placed into one of three categories.

There were the popular kids. The jocks, cheerleaders, and just generally really hot people. The most famous of them were you and Steve Harrington. Best friends since diapers the two of you were never seen without the other. Unless, of course, one of you were on a date. 

And Steve was almost always on a date. 

On the outside, you seemed like polar opposites. Steve wasn't exactly the nicest person and you were the nicest person anyone had ever met. In some ways, you were like Steve's conscious. Kind of like Jiminy Cricket and Pinocchio. Despite your best efforts, he was still "King Steve." A total douchebag. But you believed that wasn't really him.

That the real Steve was the one you knew. The one who only showed his face in private. Everyone imagined you'd get together eventually. Even your parents. Everyone seemed to think that the two of you would make the perfect couple. Everyone really except Steve. To him, you were just friends. Platonic.

But you felt differently. You didn't always have a crush on Steve. Falling for him was like falling asleep. Slowly and then all at once. One day you just noticed. Completely out of the blue. He wasn't just Steve, your best friend. Steve, who was the only boy your parents allowed to sleep over. Steve, who wasn't ashamed to go to the store and buy tampons for you. Steve, who always shared his lunch with you because you were forgetful.

Suddenly, he was Steve. Steve, who now had muscles and gorgeous brown hair that looked so soft you wanted to run your hands through it. Steve, who had soft, supple, pink-tinted lips that you wanted so badly to kiss.

But he was also Steve Harrington. The serial dater. The asshole who forgot girls' names after he slept with them. The guy who made the lives of the unpopular kids hell. And he was Steve, your bestfriend who didn't like you back. 

So you pretended it wasn't happening. You weren't in love with your best friend. You couldn't be. And you were good at pretending. So good you should be receiving an oscar. And besides, Steve was currently pursuing someone else. Someone you couldn't believe. 

Nancy Wheeler. Nancy was one of the nerds. Now the nerds were another group at Hawkins High and practically every other high school in the universe. They were band geeks, valedictorians, and theater kids. Nancy was preppy and shy. And smart as hell. She had the highest GPA out of everyone there. And she had Steve's attention. Which meant you should hate her. 

But you couldn't. Not when Nancy was always so nice to you and really, never did anything wrong. And Steve seemed to really like her. So even though it killed you inside and made you feel like your world was ending you put on a brave face and put on your biggest smile, always making sure Nancy felt welcome. Because you and Steve weren't just a duo. 

There was also Tommy and Carol. And if anyone thought Steve was an asshole then they hadn't properly met those two. Tommy and Carol seemed to have it out for everyone. Well everyone who wasn't one of them at least. Everyone who was a freak. The freaks were weird. Beyond weird. They were the metalheads, the burnouts, and basically, anyone who didn't like anything mainstream. And everyone at Hawkins who knew what was good for them avoided them like the plague.

Walking past the rows of lockers, students talking louder than should be acceptable this early in the morning, you hummed a tune of the song your mom had been playing on the radio that morning. So far your day seemed to be going well and Christmas, your favorite holiday was fast approaching. However, when you reached the girl's bathroom your day quickly turned sour. 

"You guys are disgusting" you groaned, walking past Steve and Nancy making out against the paper towel dispenser. "Can't you do that somewhere else?" Steve groaned as you went up to the mirrors and pulled out a tube of lipgloss. 

"You're the one's making out in a public bathroom. The girl's bathroom more specifically, pervert" you teased, not looking at them as you applied her lipgloss. Getting caught by you and the bell ringing above them reminded Nancy that they were at school and she needed to hurry. 

"I should get to class," she said, trying to step out of Steve's grasp but he pulled her closer. "Wait, wait, wait. Let's do something tonight, yeah?" he asked. "I can't," she sighed, shaking her head. 

"I have to study for Kaminsky's test." You snorted knowing that out of everyone Nancy was the last person who needed to study for something and ignored the look Steve shot at you. "I'll help you study then" he offered. "You failed chem," you said, looking over at them. 

"I got a C minus, thank you very much," he said before turning back to Nancy. "So, I'll be over around, say, like 8:00?" he offered. "I don't think so. My mom would not-" 

"I'll climb through your window. She won't even know I'm there. I'm stealthy, like a ninja" he said and by his tone, she could tell he was completely serious. "You're insane" she laughed, moving to walk away but he grabbed her wrist. 

"Okay, okay. Just... okay, forget about that. We can just...we can just, like, chill in my car. We can find a nice quiet place to park, and-" "Steve. I have to study. I'm not kidding" she told him. 

"Well, why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?" he asked, a smug expression on his face. She couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington" Nancy chuckled as she moved past him and headed towards the door. 

Before she could grab the handle she turned and looked back at him. "Meet me at Dearborn and Maple at 8:00. To study."

When the bathroom door closed, you turned to Steve. "A nice quiet place to park?" you asked. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, shaking his head. "You are such a hormonal little shit. It's disgusting" you laughed. "I'm being serious! I actually really like her" he said. You bit your tongue, not allowing yourself to show how much that stung. 

"I know. It's just...you have a reputation" you said. "Not anymore," he said. "Wow. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the king of Hawkins is turning over a new leaf" you teased. "Shut up" he mumbled, gently shoving you as you walked to class.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After school, you were standing outside waiting for Steve who was your ride home when you heard someone shouting for you from across the parking lot. You turned and couldn't help but laugh when you saw Lucas and his friends, Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler running over. 

"What do you neeed now?" you asked, thinking he was going to ask for quarters so they could go to the arcade. "Will! It's Will!" Mike huffed out. You frowned as you looked around the group and noticed that Will, the fourth member of their group, wasn't there.

"Oh, yeah. Where is Will?" you asked. "He's missing!" Lucas said. "What?!" "We had to talk to the police and everything! It was crazy. He didn't come home last night" Dustin said. 

"Wait, what do you mean he didn't come home last night?" you asked, growing worried for the kid you had known practically all his life. "After they left my house last night. He didn't come home and no one knows where he is" Mike said.

You were worried and slightly scared. But you could tell by the looks on the kid's faces that whatever you were feeling, they were feeling ten times worse. "I'm sure he's fine. The police will find him. For now, we should all just head home. Maybe he just got in a fight with his mom or Jonathan" you said, trying your best to comfort them.

But they all knew that wasn't true. You weren't close with Jonathan, only barely talking to him because your brothers were friends. Jonathan was considered one of the freaks, and talking to them was social suicide. But you knew Will and Jonathan were close. 

They never fought. And as far as you knew neither brother ever really fought with their mom either. "We should help look for him," Mike said. "I don't think that's a good idea," you said seeing the other two nod their heads. 

"I know you want to help but you could just be putting yourselves in danger too. Leave it to the police" she added. "But-" "No, Lucas! Seriously, it's a bad idea. I'm sure Will is fine. But for now, we should all just head home."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Steve finally came out, you convinced the kids to go home and told Lucas you'd be hanging out with Steve for a while before he dropped you off at home. Tommy and Carol decided to come over too since Steve had the biggest house and his parents were rarely home. 

The three of you were practically on top of each other as you listened to Steve talk with Nancy on the phone as she told him she couldn't hang out with him that night. A huge part of you was relieved and happy that it meant Steve would be hanging out with you longer. The other part was still worried about Will and knew it was only a matter of time before your parents put you on house arrest too. 

When Steve hung up the phone he turned to you, Carol, and Tommy who were behind him trying and failing to hide their laughs. "You guys are children" he sighed. "Isn't Will that weirdo Jonathan's brother?" Carol asked. 

"You mean that guy who practically lives in the darkroom? Yeah," Tommy said as they walked back to the kitchen. "What the hell is that?" Tommy asked, looking at the drink you were making in the blender.

"A smoothie," you said simply, pouring it out into a glass. "Why is it green?" he asked. "Becasue it has vegetables in it, dummy," you told him. "Can't you make that at your own house?" Steve asked. 

"You have a better blender" you shrugged. "Yeah. One that you never clean out after" he said, walking to the sink to rinse out her mess. "Can I have some? I really want to lose three pounds" Carol asked.

You nodded and slid the glass over to her. When no one said anything about her wanting to lose weight Carol glared at them and cleared her throat. "Oh my god. What are you talking about?" you asked. "Yeah. You look great, babe" Tommy added. "Shut up" Carol sighed, rolling her eyes. 

"Alright. You three drink her gross grass juice. I'm going to Nancy's" Steve said. "I thought she was on house arrest?" you said. "Steven's in love. He can't stay away" Tommy teased. "Children. Every single one of you" he said, ignoring their laughter as he grabbed his keys and left as you tried not to cry at the thought of Steve falling in love with anyone that wasn't you.

[a-mere-dream]

SVSSS snippets from fics that never came to be

Because I don't want them to just die on my harddrive. Mostly BingQiu, but contains various ships. No Archive Warnings Apply.

BingQiu - Angel AU. I abandoned this one because the whole Christian idea of angels just didn't mesh well with the Chinese everything from SVSSS

It’s really quite embarrassing how Shen Qingqiu dies. 

No ambush to take out the Demon Realms’ Empress. No gigantic monster to tear through him as he heroically throws himself in front of his husband, and no [Idea Three]

In the end, it is like this: he wakes up with a cough. It doesn’t seem like much for the first day, and Binghe makes him a nice cup of tea to soothe his throat. They go to sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, and then -- he simply never wakes. 

Except he does, he does, and what does it matter if he is burning with an internal light that blinds everyone who tries to look at him, Binghe can still see him, and it’s not like the wings on his back weigh that much anyways!

Things are simply… a little different. 

He has twenty-six mouths, and the record of how many he can put to use on his husband at once before he comes is thirteen and getting higher. He has fifty-two eyes, and so none of his disciples have been able to get away with cheating since. 

And yeah, sure, he has been getting complaints about people who haven’t been getting any sleep because he summons enough light to brighten the whole Sect when his husband brings him over his peak, but what is he supposed to do! Papapa in daylight? Are you mad?

* * * BingQiu - senseless fluff. This one has the highest chance of one day finding a place in a oneshot.

Shen Qingqiu cringed as Binghe plucked the wrong string, the note loud and discordant. Hurrying forward, he bowed down next to where Binghe was diligently practising the Qin, and laid his hand over Binghe’s own. 

“See? Like this,” he said as he gently folded Binghe’s fingers into the correct position. 

Binghe nodded, ears tinted red -- embarrassed about his mistake, no doubt -- and continued onwards with his song, making no further mistakes. 

Shen Qingqiu sighed, thoroughly content, and settled back to listen. He was very glad that Binghe had never questioned why his Shizun didn’t just give verbal instructions -- imagine having to admit he didn’t know what anything was called, that he was operating on muscle memory alone! He'd surely be more embarassed than Binghe was now.

* * *

CumPlane - No Transmigration AU. How much would a banana cost? Twelve dollars?

“Airplane.”

“Cucumber-bro. Why the hell are you here?”

Shen Yuan has the audacity to act like that’s a strange question, like he always waltzes around in supermarkets for people with less income than a small country in his spare time. He puts a hand to his chest, his face pulled in an offended expression that he doesn’t even have the decency to make look natural. He lifts his other hand, a plastic bag of marshmallows pinched between his thumb and pointer finger carefully held at least a foot away from him. It was all too clearly just grabbed from the shelf next to him. 

“Why, I’m shopping, obviously. I adore these --" he squinted his eyes, “mahs-mellos, now two for the price of one.”

Even though Shang Qinghua didn't know what life was like with not only a private cheff but twice-weekly deliveries of food without ever even making a shopping list, he was pretty sure you'd still know what a marshmellow was.

"Is this about Binghe's latest wife?"

"Yes!" Shen Yuan abandons his pretense of politeness and motions wildly, almost smacking Shang Qinghua in the face with off-brand sweets. "Of course this is about Binghe! How could you --"

* * *

BingQiu (?) - Tropes. I think this may be the first thing I ever wrote for SVSSS, and it's only a paragraph long. It's nice to see where I've come from.

When he woke up, he found to his disappointment that they had not accidentally cuddled together in the night. System! He wanted a refund. What happened to 'gravitating towards each other in their sleep'? No 'instinctively searching out each other's heat'? If he had to live in a dogblood novel, at least he should get its shameless excuses for physical contact. What was he supposed to do, actually ask for it? His face isn't thick enough for that!

* * *

No Ship - Shang Qinghua. From something angsty. I think I felt poetic. I still kinda like it, and might recycle it someday.

"I will do this," Shang Qinghua spoke. His hands shook and so did his courage, but his voice was kept steady against it all. "I will finish out these few days, and I will set my plan in motion, do not doubt that."

He clenched his fist, then loosened it again. "And when it is done," he said almost idly, "I will loosen the tight grip I have on myself, and I will break. I will shatter into a hundred, a thousand little pieces, and whatever will come next, I will not be there to care about it."

* * *

BingQiu - Music. I think this might actually be connected to the earlier bit about instruments, something about telling a story through song? I don't have a musical bone in my body, so it was left to gather dust.

Shizun was learning how to play the flute, entirely from scratch. Binghe's heart felt it could jump out of his chest at the overwhelming affection he felt each time Shizun played a discordant note, each time he stopped in the midst of song, frowned, and started from the beginning again. 

Shizun trusted him, Binghe thought. Shizun allowed himself to be vulnerable, to show himself as something other than the perfect Master who knew everything -- then again, this only made him more perfect in Binghe's eyes, as each scratchy melody spoke of determination and perseverance, of his cleverness and speed of learning.

Shizun was truly amazing.

* * *

Platonic CumPlane - Explanations. Before this bit, Shang Qinghua was explaining something about gender or sexuality, I forgot what.

"That sounds stupid," Shen Qingqiu said bluntly. 

Shang Qinghua frowned at him, serious in a way he rarely was. "Don't disparage it just because you flinch away from any indication you might not be 'normal.'"

* * *

OG!Luo Binghe/Shen Yuan - Abduction. Bingge steals a Shen Yuan, but isn't ready to accept the resulting affection.

“Oh, and I’m sure that one morning I’ll wake up, and I'll realize that you’ve wrapped me up so tight I can barely breath," Luo Binghe crooned. "And that will be the moment I’ll take scissors to your web, little spider, but until then I’ll gladly let you play with your strings.”

Shen Yuan stared at him. "There are no strings," he felt the need to say. "And if there are, that's because you put them there."

"Then why do I feel like I can't breathe when you touch me?" Binghe shouted. "Why do I feel like I'm going to collapse when you walk away!"

"I don't know," Shen Yuan said, a little more vicious than he'd like. "I don't know anything about you! You are so --" He screamed in frustration. "I didn't do anything! It's you! You are feeling something, but I didn't reach into your chest and put it there!"

Binghe recoiled, but Shen Yuan didn't let him speak.

"Why would you take me like that if you didn't want me! You can't go, oh, love me or you die, and I'll just pick the next Shen Yuan that will," Shen Yuan mimiced Binghe's smooth voice. "You can't demand me to love you and then be mad when I do!"

He paused, breathing heavy. "It's not my fault when you grow to feel something in return," he said softly. "Just... Either try and accept it, or finally kill me. I'm done." He closed his eyes. "... I'm done."