#brain but by god not everything is that complicated and pardon my black and white thinking but cringe culture is either dead or alive and yo

[urfaveautisticlesbian]

I still don’t understand the whole “anti (insert fan base/source material/creator/person)” blogs when there’s no substantial reasoning behind it. Like I can understand if it’s smth that is very much problematic or bad (attack on titan, mindless self indulgence, that one gross BL manga and anime abt high school boys. You know the one.) but when I see people being like “oh I don’t like (whatever) because the fans are irritating and cringe mehmehmeymeh” like congratulations no one cares! If you think it’s cringe no one really gives a fuck, people left cringe culture a long time ago and I’m sorry you can’t let it go yet. Like I don’t care for the my hero academia series or it’s fan base but I’m not going out of my way to talk abt it all the time, I just acknowledge there’s people who like it and there’s nothing wrong w liking something. God forbid.

[sxltedcxramel]

Lover’s Quarrel

c!techno x gn!reader

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

: ̗̀➛ Summary:  You and Technoblade have been friends for decades, always by each other’s side you two faught alongside each other. That was once in a lifetime, and should never happen again. Unfortunately life doesn’t play out that way and you happen to need him one more time... or maybe they’ll be a change in plans?

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 1515

: ̗̀➛ Chapters: 1/1

: ̗̀➛ Tag(s): No beta reader we die like ghostbur, c!techno, gn!reader, immortal reader x immortal techno, angel!reader, god!techno, angst, friends to enemies to friends, complicated ik

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of torture and death

: ̗̀➛ Taglist: Here

: ̗̀➛ Link(s): Ao3

: ̗̀➛ Notes: *screams into oblivion* one this is all platonic I didn’t specify 😓 two I barely survived the writers drought (no friken inspiration) but I bring to you my first c!dsmp x reader fic (please be kind I tried-) basically this taks place in really old times and not modern considering how its writter like I just finished reading shakesphere although the idea came while listening to classical music so that it how you will. Also this isn’t edited so my bad if theres mistakes-

The room was dimly lit with candles and the r oaring fire that burned passionately at the fireplace. White tiles were plastered with gold diamonds, the shade almost as if it was antique jewelry, Old but could tell an amazing story. The colour completing the beige-coloured room

You waited patiently, cross-legged glaring at the clock that ticked every second or so. 10 minutes you thought to yourself while you grind your teeth. That man seemed to be early only when it was for his own convenience, how distasteful.

Just as you finished that thought you saw the dark oak wood door being pushed open. A man walks in, he wears a white loosely fitted blouse, with bishop sleeves which was decorated with frilly fabrics. Along with death-black dress pants that were worn up to the waist. His face where his mask usually is is replaced with glasses and the man's delicate bubblegum pink hair is loosely braided and thrown on the right side of his shoulder.

“Your late” you glare crossing your arms

He let out a sigh “Well pardon me for taking a while to get ready, It's almost like you didn’t come here unannounced” he spoke sarcastically.

He walked over to the glass tray and picked up a small glass cup with a gold ring around it and poured himself a drink. He eyes you “Would you care for a drink y/n?”

“I don’t drink”

He shrugs “Suit yourself”

“Technoblade, I didn't come here for idle chatter.”

He arched his eyebrow slightly “Oh?” Techno placed his cup down “Pray do tell, what exactly did you come here for?” You watched him walk to the other side of the room as he said that.

“I-“ you could even finish before being rudely interrupted by a rustling noise. You watched as your patience grew thinner by the minute he took out a black vinyl disc and placed it on a wooden box making sure the oin was adjusted well. A soft tune of the piano came out of the music player.

“Would you care for a dance?” He holds out his hand, you stare at it contemplating whether you should grab his hands, you really shouldn't, you didn’t want to play his games, you wanted what you came for, but then again it would harm a dance. Or course your brain chose the latter considering how you delicately placed your hand in his letting him place his hand on your waist the the other on your shoulder. He lead the way,(just like he always does)

“Apologies for interrupting music helps me think.” He spoke as he spun you around the floor “They calm the voices” . You knew all about the voices, how much they love to chant and clog his brain with different variations of thoughts, perks of being his ex-partner you suppose. But you watched as he hid a smirk, you guess he’s just telling only half the truth. You roll your eyes

“You can finish”

“Wouldn’t you mean start idiot” you snap

“Meh”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, his inability to ever grasp the mood of the situation was flawless. It seemed as if he never cared about the other person's feelings, unless you were the god of death you were out of luck for a serious conversation. You’ve dealt with that for decades

You could remember once in a lifetime the two of you were partners, fast and precise that's how the job went. The blood god and the angel of destruction are an amazing duo. You remember when the two of you used to watch as people begged on their knees for their life or perhaps a mercy kill. Watching as your foes tried to retreat to their bases only for their pitiful lives to end in such a disgraceful manner. At the end of the day the two of you stood in the battlefield side by side knowing the world could shake in fear knowing you two were alive

And you loved it like that desire to make people fear you brought giddiness to your body and enlightened your world. You wanted one thing and it was to get revenge.

Revenge on all who did you wrong from your youth up, and now you were strong enough to bring it tenfold.

Everything was fine, It wasn’t until one day the two of you had sat down for a cup of tea like you usually did on Thursday evenings. He told you he wanted to retire, he was done with the killings and the torture.

He was finally putting down the title ‘Blood god’

At first you thought it was a joke but then you saw his eyes and they were as serious as he could ever be, anger rose up in you unable to process the statement.

How could he leave you like this, he promised to be by your side when no one else would.

A liar that's would your made him out to be

A slap to the cheek was all you left him that day

Now here you were decades later, hand in hand dancing to the sounds of the instruments harmonizing becoming one just the way you two were.

He spun you around gracefully on the tiled floor, there's something about dancing in an empty room that makes you feel weird inside. What was this feeling? Him making you feel weak in the knees, perhaps it was the fact the last time you did this it was when you two were young and reckless. He always seemed to know how to brighten your life,even to the point the friendship you two had was envied amongst the other gods.

He twirled you across the room dipping you slightly “Cat caught your tongue”

You rolled your eyes “As if”

You saw outside the glass panes, the sky was painted a blood orange mixed with lavender purples and hints of blue. The sun slowly sets,bringing the nightfall.

You chuckle to yourself, how romantic of the sky to show such a sight for people who would die before dating each other.

You turn your gaze to the god “I need you one last time” you say cutting to the chase

Technoblade glared at you “I already told you I’m retired, don’t be so stubborn”

“I’m not, your being selfish putting your needs before anyone else's”

He snorts “Isn’t that what you're doing y/n? Or am I reading the situation wrong?” He says sarcastically “Plus I thought you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me, or was that slap something you did on impulse and you couldn’t face me after?”

You grind your teeth “It was not, and why are you making it seem like you're the victim? You're the one who wanted to leave me!” You snapped

He took his hands away from you and pinched the bridge of his nose “See, this is why we cannot have a conversation. You always jump to conclusions” he growls

“I do not!”

“You do! I never intended to leave your side, only retiring. Is it so bad I wanted to stop killing and do something better with my life, and here I thought you’d be happy with it.”

You stared at him shocked, “I..”

Was he right? You were known to act on impulse which did cause problems in the long run but he’d be there to be by your side every time. But yet, you couldn’t fathom the thought of him leaving his life behind to start a new one. Why? You weren’t sure.

Techno sighed “You act so tough when actually you're broken inside. The thing is you weren’t mad at me for retirement, you were mad that things were changing. You're scared of change because you don’t know where you’ll fall between it all.”

The piano falls into a soft handsomely rhythm

The violinist quietly drag their bows delicately

You cast your eyes aside, you couldn’t argue with the truth. You swallow hard fighting back the tears. You couldn’t fathom the amount of times you’ve been in the wrong or how much you’ve hurt him

Stupid

Stupidstupidstu-

A hand is placed on you head

“You think too much, stop that”

“I’m sorry”

“For overthinking or for being impulsive” he questions

“Both” you whisper keeping your eyes on the floor

“And?”

You huffed “You were right about everything”

He grinned showing his pearly whites “I’m sorry what was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

You laughed slightly making your worries go away for the time being “You asshole, get your head out of the skies as if I’m repeating that again”

He chuckles shrugging “Worth a try”

“So, let's get something straight. I’ll help you one last time then I’m forcing you to retire. Seriously you have no say so.” He eyes you “You probably need therapy too jeez”

“Fuck You I’m perfectly fine”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” he responds ushering you out the room

“Bold of you to assume I sleep”

“Bruhh”

Taglist: @ttakinou @angstyx

[modestlyabsurd]

God of Lies (Loki x Reader)

"Forgive me - I don't mean to pry, but, why were you so adamant about not going out with the rest?" Loki asks.

That wasn't what you expected him to ask at all. Hell, you prepared for some kind of sideways question about your appearance or career choice.

Pleasantly surprised, you shrug your shoulders. "I just don't like the atmosphere in those kinds of places. Being around a bunch of drunk people. I don't really like drinking either."

"Why?" he chirps.

"I dunno. The whole lack of inhibitions, and," you thought for a moment, "the way it changes your personality. I never have liked that feeling. I'd rather be in full control of myself and my actions in places like that."

Loki purses his lips and nods slowly. "Quite a different outlook than that of your peers."

A pit in your stomach forms as you feel self conscious all of a sudden. "Well why didn't you go with them?" you ask defensively - more so than you meant to. Immediately your teeth clench, wishing you could press rewind.

"I prefer let those around me make fools of themselves. That way I don't have to do it for them. And, it's much more fun to watch than to be involved."

"Then you could've just went and didn't drink anything."

"Well, yes, I could've. But I wanted to kill two birds with one stone, as you say. Let earth's mightiest heroes entertain me with their drunken witlessness later, and in the meantime ... spend time with you."

Your steps slow down as Loki gets a few feet ahead of you, hands in his pockets, bright face looking forward. Completely unbelievable.

You laugh a dry laugh. "If you told a jackass that, he'd kick your teeth out."

"Beg your pardon?" he chirps again. He twirled around obnoxiously swinging a leg out.

When you spoke that thought out loud, you didn't think he'd even acknowledge it, let alone question you; and by the time your stunned brain formulates a response and your mouth opens to say it, Loki's chest is nearing yours. He's staring at you, seemingly not knowing or caring about the wall you're backing up to. You lock on him. Watching his every muscle movement. Licking his lips, the ghost of a smirk, a sort of ludic glint in his prodding eyes. You're feeling out his intent but he's fucking unreadable.

Then you remember that you're unarmed.

Every possible ounce of comfort, or confidence, and your ability to verbalize anything all drained away and you slam your mouth shut the instant his forearm rested against the bricks above your head. He's looming over you. It forced you to look downward at your shoes - and the tips of Loki's shoes just centimeters from yours - or else you would've brushed noses.

What're you gonna do? Shove this superhuman strength-wielding alien off you? Risk a bout of combat breaking out here in the middle of a beautiful gray New York evening? It does play out in your mind, but it doesn't get to the ending before a change of air wafts around you. You nearly lift your head - just out of instinct, trying to identify the pleasant smell - but Loki is right there.

...

It's him.

The scents of the streets you've been walking together, the cinnamon from the pastry he'd eaten, and a sort of elemental masculinity on his skin; they wake up something inside you that you did not want awaken right now. You wanted it to sleep. You wanted it to die.

But at the same time, you wanted to surrender to it. His mouth is literally right there, parted slightly, hovering at the tip of your nose. Although you search for an escape, you can't bring yourself to squirm away.

A laugh - more like a breath - puffs from Loki's throat, fanning your face. "A jackass?"

You swallow. "It's just a saying."

"I quite like that, actually."

He's whispering to your nose. Against a brick wall; amongst the New York City passersby. Just a tilt of the chin away.

With hooded, lustful eyes, Loki is scanning for signs of discomfort. While you are indeed shifting from side to side and refusing to look him in the face, he can feel something more than that. Something so vague, but so obvious it's almost physical.

He pushes himself away from the bricks.

"Are there any decent places nearby? Anything of substance? Value? Entertainment or enlightenment?"

Air harshly fills your chest upon regaining breathing room.

For a second, you draw a complete blank. You don't know what he's asking, you don't know what you're feeling, you don't know your own name for a good four seconds.

Then, confidently, you answer, "I know there's a library somewhere around here. I've been wanting to see some of the thrift stores, too. And there's a little walking trail somewhere that I've wanted to see. Any of those along the lines of what you're suggesting?" you prop your foot against the wall behind you. Getting comfortable again.

He sighs dramatically. "I suppose I like the idea of a thrift store. I don't have much apparel that would blend in with your Midgardian ... trends."

"Are you insinuating that you don't like human clothes?"

He raises his brows and looks down at you. "I'm wearing them now, aren't I?"

You start walking side by side, but with enough distance to keep you sane. The noise from honking cars blaring by, the steady electric hum of lights and signs, thousands of feet hitting the pavement and the occasional swearing from angry New Yorkers became sort of a white noise; it was comforting. Distracting.

You're searching for the nearest second-hand store on your phone as you walk. Of course Loki wouldn't question that - eighty percent of the faces he sees is staring down at their screens. So he had no clue that you were purposefully distracting yourself.

At least, you thought he didn't, and that was enough.

Upon glancing up from your directions, you catch Loki's eyes.

Spoke too soon.

You scoff, and can't help but grin at how ridiculous you feel. It frustrated you mentally and sexually - and all he did was look at you.

"You're so complicated," you half-joke.

Loki replies lightheartedly, "Have you ever considered the possibility that it's you that complicates me in your mind? Before you get angry, hear me out. Your people must find answers to everything in an attempt to understand them, and therefore you overthink the simplest things. For instance, I don't dislike all Midgardian apparel. I like what I'm currently wearing, I like what you're currently wearing ... " he trails off.

How? your inner voice says. You understood him liking his elegant three, four - hell, probably five piece suit, but you didn't even dress up today. You threw on whatever was nearest. It pales in comparison to his attire.

Wait a minute ...

This has to be a joke.

"Ah, you see? You're doing it now, questioning and processing everything I've just said instead of merely taking it for what it is. I'm really rather simple. I say what I mean for the most part."

"Is that why they call you the God of lies?"

Loki chuckles.

"Lying is merely enhancing the truth for a benefit. Within all lies, there is at least some truth."

You nod your head slowly beside him, absorbing what he's said. Trying to make sense of it, to somehow see the simplicity.

He's a damn contradiction. Just from your glances at him, the barely noticeable grin across his face and his overall attitude is confusing to say the least. It's like he's in the clouds somewhere, but at the same time he's firmly planted in the conversation.

"Okay, I have two things. First of all, that's bullshit."

He snorts. "And why is that?"

The two of you approach a crosswalk to cross a littered street, and Loki waits patiently beside you as you watch for traffic. Although you can't hardly hear yourself think, what with the cars now honking their horns only a few feet away, you scan around for an example to use.

The cars slow down, the light signals for you to walk, and you see one.

A young man approaches from the opposite side. He is clearly the result of a unicorn breeding with a death metal band. Long, wild pastel dyed hair, a black shirt gutted so much that the words are illegible, piercings, purple glasses. Nothing unusual for New York, really.

As you and Loki walk, you step ahead and take the lead.

"I love your tattoo!" You yell over the cars, pointing to the boy's face. He looks up from his phone.

"Oh, thank you!" the death-unicorn smiles, sweeping a piece of hair behind his ear, and that was it.

Now that your heart is pumping from pure fear, you speed walk across the street to get as far away from the situation as possible. Subsequently making Loki do the same to catch up behind you.

"Did you see that? Did you? I hated that tattoo!" you turn around and whisper-yell. "There was no truth in that statement I just made!"

"Really? I thought it looked nice."

"Yeah, I bet you did," you huff, looking for the thrift store sign.

You could punch him. You would, too, if it weren't for that face. That stupid grin. His eyes holding yours. Your mind wants to punch him but your body wants to touch him. Aren't the mind and body supposed to be in synchrony? What the fuck is happening?

"But, that was for the greater good, was it not? The actual words and thoughts behind the compliment may not have been what you truly feel, however it made him - or her - it made them feel happy. In the end, isn't that what matters?"

You suppose he isn't completely wrong.

Wait, no! What an asshole!

"Which leads me to my next point," you stop and fiercely turn around to face him. "How do I know that everything you've told me so far isn't all lies?"

It sure feels good to burn someone that severely. It looks like you might have even hurt him a little. And it actually feels good.

After a few seconds of you antagonistically waiting for a response, Loki shakes his head. A sad smile appears for an instant before he looks up from the pavement into your eyes.

"Others may call me the God of Lies, but in every word I say to you is nothing but the truth."

The burn was short-lived. In fact, instead of how it should've been, where he's the one who gets burned, now it feels like you're the jerk who finally got what was coming to them.

You too ashamed to move. You know that what he just said wasn't a lie - you watched. You analyzed it. As one who's been deceived a few times ... you could tell. No unnecessary or distracting movements, no overuse of "honest" behaviors. He hasn't used arrogance as a veil like you've seen him do with others. What reason do you have to believe that he's a liar, anyway? Sure, he ate the last chocolate chip cookie one night at two A.M. and casted an illusion of Thor eating it for FRIDAY's surveillance (which he doesn't realize you know, as you saw the fake Thor disappear through Loki's wall) among other similar things, but that really isn't master manipulation. Hell, that's a good sense of humor.

But you've come this far. You can't let him off that easy.

Mustering up a voice, you say, "That still doesn't prove - Loki?"

He's gone.

Frantically you search, hair flipping every which way. Your heart starts to race as you look for the tall Asgardian amongst New York City's population. Faces are all blurs. Just trenchcoats and blue jeans.

He's gone!

You're unconsciously spinning around searching, and your eyes land on the thrift store sign above you. Trying to think the best instead of the worst you push through the crowds of people - some soft and some hard as brick walls - to get to the entrance. You were disheveled before and you're a mess now; New York crowds are like California rip currents.

The first thing you see in the store is rows and rows of racks of clothes. Then you see the shoppers, all leisurely looking the store over. As you enter, and the smell of fabric and the insides of people's homes hits you, you scan around. Old people are weaving through the used furniture, kids are playing with old toys, and their moms are looking at shoes for their growing feet.

You see a huge bookshelf at the back wall and are very, very tempted. But you remember that Loki is missing.

Scanning the tops of aisles for heads, you begin walking through the racks of jeans, khaki pants, shorts, and are reluctant to call his name out. You never know who remembers what when it comes to alien attacks.

Panic starts to set in.

"How does this look?"

A one-eighty degree spin. There he is. In between the racks, wearing an awful yellow 1980's plaid blazer.

You wonder if this is what love feels like.

"Looks great."

"Well, well. You could be the Goddess of Lies."

~

it's been a while :) how you duhhhhn?

~

tag list: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @paradisaicsam @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum