#but it always takes longer than when I make GIFs of other characters cause every time I get to Hobie-

[fiepige]

More Hobie GIFS!!! Today's theme:

Every time Hobie uses his webs! 🕸 (Click on the GIFs to make them bigger)

[marksbear2]

Hii you’re deadpool and wolverine fic are awesome!! I’ve been reading your work for awhile and every time i read your work it’s just WOW but i was wondering if you can write another deadpool and wolverine fic? Just watched the movie and they make me BARK

😓 IM TIRED of everyone watching the movie but me. Don’t get me started on twitter and how everyone’s tweaking over my man hugh 😣.

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE X MALE READER

⚠️Warnings- fluff, angst, smut— no spoilers included, all three of you are switches, edging, blood, death mentioned at the end and more.⚠️

— Both men laying on beside you on your left and right. Wade will be jerking off your cock whispering dirty jokes into your ear while Logan will be fingering your hole while breathing deep grunts and soft encouraging praises.

— The two would be mid argument, ready to be at each others throats while your literally getting face fucked by Logan and Wade will be behind you fucking you.

— Wade and you roleplaying, you’ll play as him as Deadpool wearing his suit and mask and all while he’s wearing Logan’s suit. He’ll be moaning “Wolverine” and “Logan.” While occasionally the slip of your actual name causing you two to giggle and break character.

— Logan walking in seeing you and Wade trying out new kinks like lingeries or more kinky shit like bdsm.

— If it’s Logan’s turn to bottom Wade will be teasing and cracking jokes the whole time taunting him to get him riled up.

— Logan and Wade sharing your cum in their mouths. After they’re done sharing your cock they’ll start to passionately makeout.

— Wade recording or taking pictures during sex. Even using a Polaroid on special occasions and he has some of his favorite pictures in his wallet.

— Logan will be fucking you relentlessly for hours to blow off his anger and stress.

— While they’ll be sharing your cock, their tongues will sometimes move against one another before sharing a kiss and back to sucking your cock.

— Watching the two have the most bloodiest sex ever watching them hit and hurt each other just for their body to regenerate.

— Wade will be like a dog in heat always humping and grinding his ass into you or Logan’s crotch.

— You going back and forth on their cocks sucking and deepthroating them Logan pulling and tugging on your hair while Wade is praising and making jokes.

— Logan walking in seeing you and Wade wearing dresses while your fucking him. Wade’s legs will be in the air speared apart while he is also wearing heels.

— Wade being very open on wanting to take you and Logan’s cock in the same time. He’s the one who’s trying to convince you two do it to him.

— You and Wade being in love with Wade’s scent.

— You and Logan shotgunning the smoke from the cigar while when Wade wants to try he lowkey starts dying coughing hard and shit.

— Whenever you are fucking either one of them the other one would start kissing or making out with you trying to distract you from the other.

— Logan having cum leak out from his used hole while Wade laid on the side of him getting fucked by you two. You’ll be taking turns using them like your own personal fleshlights.

— You and Wade watching Logan scratch onto things like the bed or sheets.

— Wade and Logan edging you together while they argue. They’ll be jerking off your cock and stuff and you’ll be whimpering and moaning the whole time until you actually cum all over their hands and yourself.

— You being in the middle as they both cuddle and hug you from the side. Occasionally Wade or Logan will take your place from being in the middle.

— Wade will be the one to distract either you or Logan with praises and jokes while the either of you would be cleaning.

— Seeing you fuck Wade so merciless and rough before eventually fucking him next, makes Logan go feral and insane.

(A few bits of angst now.)

— They both will outlive you. Though Logan isn’t immortal his lifespan is still greatly longer than yours.

— Both of them watching you die, and either cannot accept the fact that they can’t help or stop it from happening.

— Logan’s and Wade’s relationship weakens a whole lot after your death. They’ll be arguing even more and blaming one another for your death.

— Logan accidentally not retracting his claws and them stabbing through your stomach slowly, and very painfully killing you.

— Wade trying to use laughter and humor as an way to cope trying to mask that he’s okay but Logan sees right through it.

— Both men blaming themselves for your death.

— When all three of you break up it really damaged all three of you. Logan and Wade will be doing his best to move on.

— Your death really reminds the two of them that nothing last forever.

THE END

[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter one- Love returned

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Pairing: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!reader

Context: Astrid and you have been dating two years before a tragic accident happened to you, ending your life. She spends a year alone somehow trying to contact you from the living as you're in the afterlife. When finding that all of her attempts are futile, she turned to her mother's ability but was quickly reminded of how her mother "somehow" could never see the people Astrid wished to see the most.

Warnings: Probably bad writing (I'm sorry), Death

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I'm not so much familiar with tumblr other than reading. I'm not much of a writer either, this would be like the first piece I post ever. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, I will correct as many as I see. Also, my brain was a bit foggy when remembering the new Beetlejuice Beetlejuice movie so if there's a mistake in that too, I'm sorry. Other than that, I hope you guys enjoy. I have been heavily inspired by many other amazing writers and I hope I really do capture all of the characters as correctly as I can. Also, I'm not expecting this series to blow up, i'll add another chapter if I see many people interact with this one.

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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Letʼs be honest, Astrids life was definitely not one that usually someone finds themselves in. A ‘psychicʼ mother, who Astrid believes makes things up, an artist grandmother who seems to be an emotional wreck now that her husband is dead, and finally, a father who she no longer has. Astrid couldn't recall the last time her life was stable, from the beginning it had always be something with her family.

Now, with the passing of her grandfather and her mother suddenly marrying her manager who she is blindly following and clearly not seeing how he exploits her. She finds her world completely upside down and the one time she finds someone who makes her feel at least a bit normal, the universe seems to keep taking any form of normalcy from her. Once upon a time, it had been you and Astrid. The one person who kept her head straight as her world span.

Granted, you didn't come from the perfect family either but you always had found a way to excuse their actions despite Astridʼs constant nagging about your family and their almost pertinacious attitudes.

Your mother, a woman who almost seems to so desperately want to fit in with the women of the neighborhood. Your father who loved his image and his family's image. Your older sister who was always trying to somehow one-up you. Your family cared about the big things, you always found yourself content with the small things. You had always excused their behaviors with simple statements like,

“That's just how they are.” or, “No family is perfect.”

Astrid would cave eventually to your excuses but not with good attitude. Now remembering it, it felt like such a close but distant memory. It had only been a year, almost two, of your passing and yet Astrid finds herself dug in a hole the universe seemed to only bury her deeper in. Every memory had been bittersweet. Between every laugh shared, smiling in the middle of kisses, comforting smells theyʼd grow to find solace in, compliments, listening to music together, there had also been disagreements, comforting each other about things that neither of them had caused or been involved in, emotional damage, and trying to balance finding middle ground in each otherʼs crazy lives.

A year.

The thought of it makes Astrid almost wince, thoughts that seemed to be never ending and had loose ends. Why wasn't she there? She had always thought to herself. Why didn't she stop you? Questions to be left unanswered now that you were gone and she had no one to turn to. She had gone to her mother, who she had never believed was a ghost whisperer or paranormal insighter as everyone saw her, practically begging to have her somehow see you, hear you, feel you. But, like every attempt, they were once again futile.

This had made her more angry with her mother. First, she couldn't see her father and now she can't see you. Why is that every time she needs her mother to see a certain ghost for her, she never can but for others she can? It all felt stupid to her, how could people believe her mother?

Astrid found herself visiting Winter River frequently despite not liking staying with her grandmother and mother, especially when that daft man her mother called a “boyfriend” was around. She saw right through his act of the ‘caring, loving, and supportive’ boyfriend. Yet, she felt like she was the only one who could see that. How could someone propose to someone on the day of their father's wake?! She disliked the town, even more the people who foolishly believed her mother “abilities” to see paranormal phenomenons.

Yet, there she had spent most of her free time at the town during spring, summer, and winter break. Her relationship with Winter River had always been horrible yet she couldn't bring herself to say that she hated it there. How could she say that when it was this very same town that she had met you?

Standing there once again, in front of a grave that she became all too familiar with. Yours. It was almost comical how your parents had practically milked your death with every ounce they could get from it. Parading around the town, almost as if making it an excuse to gain from. They had quickly became the family in which everyone had gone to support when you had died. People would constantly go to your home, try to show their support, bring gifts even. Your parents loved every second of the attention.

No surprise that your mother had gained popularity among the women of your neighborhood's community. They only pitied her but masked it with sympathy as your mother would say, “She would've loved to be here” whenever someone had invited her to some so-called ‘important’ event among the other dull rich women. Your father had gotten a raise from his job after your death, again, out of pity of the poor family who had lost their ‘precious’ daughter. Your sister had gotten annoyed about how much you had been the focus after your death. She had expect people to move on after months but now seeing that it has been one, almost two, years of your passing and you being the center of attention, it had made her a bit bitter.

As Astrid stood in front of your grave and the flowers that adorned it, a small half-hearted smile on her lips. Many of the times that she had found herself in front of your grave, though she thought that somehow talking to the dead and getting a response back was stupid, she had always found herself talking out-loud to your grave, hoping for a sign or response that never really came.

“I miss you. Iʼm sorry that I havenʼt visited recently. My grandfather passed away, guess heʼd be with you now, right? Sometimes I wonder if youʼre with my dad or talk to him over there. I know if you were to be listening to me, you'd be rubbing it in my face how I always thought these kinds of things were stupid and now iʼm standing here like an idiot talking to myself and expecting a response from you.”

She smiled to herself as she thought about how youʼd tease her for this. She missed the banter between the two of you, her smile somewhat fading at the empty ache in her heart.

“I wish I could say that I hate you for leaving me here by myself, knowing that life is hard. We were supposed to be going through this life together, though. I wonʼt, I canʼt. I love you and my chest is aching every single day at this back and forth in my mind of memories that we should be looking back at together, happily, and now I just get this bittersweet feeling with the horrible reminder of your death. As much as I don't like it or believe it, I wish I had somehow gained this stupid ability my mother thinks she has.”

Astrids voice had faltered as she felt a frown tugging at her lips and her tears begin to faintly blur her vision. She took a deep breath, pulling herself together as she spoke again.

“I just want you to come home. I know that I always thought it was stupid how you had said ʻhome is where the heart isʼ, but truly I had just felt so bashful to think that someone like me could possibly be someone's home. The statement itself, I had always thought was a bit corny. Now, I find myself saying that I want to go home even while being at home. Funny, huh? You were always such a sap..”

With that and a sad smile, Astrid backed away from your grave. A soft sigh escaping her lips as she once again hoped that you had somehow received her words.

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Hours later, Astrid found herself, once again, in your room. She sneaks in through the window because she hates the idea of having to knock on the front door and have a conversation with your parents. They had been supportive of your relationship, yes, but like everything else, it was for their own personal gain. They had seen how other families were inclusive so they thought if they were too, theyʼd fit in more. Astrid had already known that they wouldn't dare to go into your room.

Your family had always hated the way that you decorated your room with endless posters, music, records and vinyls here and there, you loved your music. It was drastically differently from your sister and parents which preferred a more elegant and clean look. Thatʼs why whenever there were visitors, theyʼd never introduce your room to them. Yet, it was your safe haven and Astrid knew that.

After your death, she had taken it upon herself to take care of your vinyls, CDʼs, record player, and plants, all taken cared of. She felt that it made her feel like you were still here. As if she was staying in your room while you were out and about in the town. Her imagination took her far when it came to making up excuses for your absence rather than accepting the fact that you were dead.

She hummed to herself as she finished watering the last plant in your room. Once she was finished, she had gone over to your records, flipping through each of them, trying to find a song to play. Thatʼs when she had heard a small noise in the room. It was unusual to say the least, no one had ever dared to come into your room, it was just her. She shrugged it off as nothing or simply a noise coming from your window.

Then again, a small noise. The noise of a shoe squeaking from across the room. Her eyebrows had furrowed before she whipped her head around towards the direction of the noise. Upon landing her eyes on your face. She felt as if she was dreaming but it had startled her so that she felt her vision suddenly blacking out. When falling back, all she could remember was the feeling of someoneʼs cold hands catching her.

When Astrid awoke, she found herself lying on your bed despite having passed out almost across the room near your records. She almost dreaded waking up, she could have sworn she had seen you. Was it a dream? Did she make it up in her head because she missed you so much? Her vision blurred a bit before finally focusing, the feeling of a dip in the bed and a cold hand holding hers had startled her.

Quickly, she had shot up and off of your bed. Her eyes finally landing on you who had also shot up on the other side of the bed when she did.

“Where are we going?-” You had began speaking before you were cut off by Astrids loud exclaim.

“What the fuck!”

Your eyes scanned the room, your eyebrows furrowed as you turned around to see if there had been anyone behind you which earned a scoff from the other girl.

“Wait, you can see me now?” You asked as your eyebrows raised and your eyes returned to Astrid across the bed.

“Can I see you? Yeah, the better question is can I believe it? Is this another dream?�� Astrid climbed over the bed and flung herself onto you. She clung onto your, now, cold body, that hadnʼt bothered her right now.

“What's the matter? You look like youʼve seen a ghost.” Your arms wrapped around the girl almost protectively, a soft laugh escaping you.

“Not funny.” Her words were flat, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She almost didnʼt know what to say as she stared at you. She had dreamed of you before, sure, but never like this. This felt too real. Your skin was more pale and less live as she had usually dreamed, your body cold, your chest was stilled, as if not taking air in or out. She hadnʼt noticed her bottom lip quivering or the tears in the corner of her eyes that had began to form.

“Hey, hey... Donʼt get all sappy on me now, iʼve been watching you this whole time! I hope you know that I followed you literally everywhere.” Your hands had gone to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away any tears as they fell from Astrid's eyes.

“Youʼd better have.” She had joked which earned another soft laugh from you. The sound of your laugh - so familiar - seemed to set her off. Her arms tightened around your shoulders as all of the feelings she bottled up over the past few months seemed to just burst out of her.

“I literally watched over you for a whole year. Trust me, I heard every word you were saying to the sky or my grave, hoping I was near to hear you. I was and I canʼt believe you've gotten all sappy, Deetz. You always told me that I was the sap and there you were spilling your guts and hoping my ghost was near.” One of her hands unconsciously moving from her cheek to her back, gently rubbing it.

“They were never one-sided conversations, I was always replying you just couldnʼt hear or see me. I did have some one-sided conversations, though. Like when youʼd be listening to my music or watching a movie and laying on my bed, moping, Iʼd be laid next to you and talk to you. I was always geeking out anyway, you know how I am about my passions.” You added and a snort escaped Astrid.

Her grip on you seemed to tighten as your voice registered in her ears. You were here, you were real.

“I know I sounded like an absolute idiot - I sounded like a broken record begging for you.” Her voice said as she buried her face into your shoulder.

“Come on, I never really left your side, Astrid. I was just hoping the entire time that what you had said about your momʼs ability being fake was real and that you'd somehow gain her ghost whispering abilities. I just wanted you to see me, hear me, feel me. Iʼve been so lonely. Sure, I hang out and laugh with you all the time but I missed actually talking to you and you bantering with me.” A frown tugged at your lips involuntarily.

“You didnʼt sound like a broken record. every word youʼd hope I had heard was beautiful - sappy - but beautiful. Gosh, you donʼt know how horrible it has been watching you cry about me and not being able to do anything about it. My ghosted body was always reaching for you but you wouldn't feel a thing. I promise you, I always held you and trying to do anything I can to get you to seem me but nothing was working.” You added as you buried your face into her shoulder, trying to get impossibly closer to her.

“Iʼm not a ghost whisperer. Don't think youʼre on the loose. I am mad at you, for the record.” Her hands balling the fabric of your shirt between her fist. She inhaled and exhaled deeply - as if your presence was the only thing keeping her grounded at the moment.

“I know, I know. I promise to make it up for the rest of my afterlife. Though, you gotta to admit, you have to believe your momʼs abilities now that you can see me. I know you said you hated the attention that your mom receives for being... Well, her. But they weren't fake after all!” You shook your head with a small laugh.

“Ghost whisperer.” You mumbled with a small smile, her hand immediately smacking you in the back of the head. Which had earned a small, ʻowʼ, from you.

“I donʼt-” She had began saying before her protest had been interrupted by a shuddering breath and a few silent tears falling from her eyes as she held onto tightly.

“I donʼt hate them.” She mumbled before sighing.

“I just-” Again, cutting herself off with a scoff. She wiped her tears as she pulled away from your embrace to scan your face with a soft smile.

“Gosh, I canʼt even remember what I was about to say. Iʼm so happy to see you and i'm a bumbling idiot and-”

“Iʼm so sorry. I've been trying everything, I swear. I even read that stupid ʻHandbook for the Recently Deceasedʼ from cover to cover many times. Only the strange and unusual could ever see me and I tried to reach for your mom but I couldn't for some reason. Slow down, we have so much to talk about.” You said as a frown tugged at your lips again. If you had a beating heart, it would have ached at Astridʼs tears. All you could find yourself doing was trying to make up for the lost time of not being able to comfort her.

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A/N: Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed it. Should I continue writing this story? There could be multiple parts to this if you guys do enjoy this! Thank you so much for reading! Reqs and or comments, even questions, are all open on my profile! Thank you again! Also, I'd like to add that I understand that in the movie, ghosts are not permitted to leave their area of death or change their clothes. But, for the sake of this fic, let's pretend!

[d1xonss]

HEY ASHHH!!! hope youre doing amazing HOW ABOUT SARCASTIC READER (tony stark kinda personality😝😝) WITH DARYL AAGHH IT WOULD BE SO COOL like readers always so careless

A Friend

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 4

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.5k

AN ~ Hiii! Thank you for this request, I love the idea! I think any kind of sarcastic character paired with Daryl is just perfect. I’m not super confident on how this one came out but I tried to just work with it lol. Hope you enjoy!

You felt the hot sun beating down onto your skin the longer you stood outside, causing you to have to constantly wipe your forehead every few minutes to get rid of the sweat that pooled there. Your arms continued to burn with how many walkers you kept having to stab on the outsides of the fences, their arms trying to come through the openings to claw at you. You had the privilege and the honor of taking on this job today as Rick instructed, while his happy ass stayed inside and did a count of all the weapons and bullets we had. Making checklists if you will while you were stuck out here working your ass off.

Over the course of a few months, you had all been able to live peacefully inside this prison now without the Governor trying to kill everyone twenty four seven. It was relieving, but the problem you all seemed to have to deal with now were all the walkers built up along the fences, attempting to push their way in. No one knew what exactly caused this to be such a problem, maybe the loudness that everyone provided now with how many of you lived on the other sides of the gates. But it had become a pain to deal with to say the least.

You gritted your teeth as you took your weapon to stab another through the skull, moving down to the one below it, and then the one below the next, trying to take them out as fast as possible. Though suddenly you felt a cold pair of hands grasp onto your wrist, your eyes snapping up to see one from the left had a death grip on you. Literally. You yanked your arm back the moment it registered in your head, taking the blade and stabbing it through the eye, seeing its blood go everywhere.

You huffed out a harsh breath, “Fucker.” you muttered to yourself as you shook out your hand, stepping away from them for a moment to take a small break.

You reached down for your water bottle that you had placed off to the side, raising it up to your mouth to take a drink, feeling the coolness glide down your throat effortlessly. It wasn’t nearly enough to cool you down completely, but it was still better than nothing. 

Your eyes then drifted around to the many people outside the prison walls, working, eating, talking with one another. It was nice to see the larger community you had now when it was once just a small and tight knit group. Everything was expanding and growing, and you liked the look of it. But then your gaze trailed off to the left, and you really liked the look of that instead.

Daryl was hunched over the side of his bike as he tinkered with it, using a variety of tools and cursing under his breath sometimes when he couldn’t get it just right. Though that wasn’t the only thing you were focusing on. The way his arms flexed beautifully with every tug and pull he seemed to do, it was causing you to feel even hotter than you were before if that were even possible. And the sweat glistening on his skin while he worked, you could’ve sworn you were drooling a little. God he was hot.

Blinking rapidly, you managed to snap yourself out of it as you turned away before he could notice you staring, looking down towards the ground for a moment to compose yourself. Lord only knows there was just something about that man that you weren't able to resist, but the downside about that was, you knew he hardly even noticed or felt the same. The two of you had never really been the closest, in fact you barely even talked at all for the most part. He was more of a loner type, preferring to be on his own than socialize with other people. But hey, you can’t blame a girl for hoping. You then just put all your attention back to killing the remaining walkers outside the fence, wanting to get it done as fast as possible.

But you found you only lasted about another hour before you were completely over it, needing something else to do to pass the time but also make yourself useful. You found yourself wandering back towards the building as a few other members took over for you at the fence, lingering near the garages before your eyes suddenly spotted some fishing rods. You remembered how Glenn brought those back recently with the intention to use them at a lake just a few miles from here, in hopes of catching other types of food besides deer and squirrel.

You only saw the opportunity for a split second before you just decided to take it. After all it was something to do, and something that wouldn’t want to make you die while doing. You practically skipped over to the supplies laid out, grabbing the two fishing poles and the tacklebox filled with some bait, before heading back towards the gate so the person on watch could let you out.

The walk down towards the large lake was a breeze, giving you an actual opportunity to clear your head for a moment as you could finally get away from the constant snarls of the walkers. You could hardly even step outside anymore before the sound was already ringing in your ears. But out here it was peaceful, calm, and approaching the lake even further, seeing a wooden dock coming into view, it felt even more so.

You stepped out onto the wooden platform and instantly got to work, placing some bait on the hook, before casting the line out into the water, pulling at it a little every once and a while to get the fake fish to move around. You sat in silence for the longest time now, it then suddenly hit you all at once how boring this was to do alone with no one else to keep you company. How there wasn’t a single sound to be heard or even anything interesting to look at…nothing. A sigh then passed your lips as you held the rod loosely in one hand while resting your chin in the other, the silence now growing even more so.

That is until you heard a distinct noise. Footsteps approaching you from behind, heavy ones too, marching against the dock pretty loudly as they inched closer to you. Your eyes then peered over your shoulder, trying to not show the shock you felt when you saw it was Daryl coming up to you, crossbow in hand and a typical serious look on his face.

“The hell you doin?” he asked once he was close enough, eyeing the supplies that surrounded your figure, before his gaze returned to you.

Your brows furrowed. Was he serious?

“Oh you know, just…skydiving.” you said with a shrug, your tone coming out monotone and serious as your eyes squinted up towards him because of the bright sun behind his head.

He scoffed to himself at your sarcastic answer, his permanent scowl intensifying as he didn't open his mouth to speak again, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m fishing-”

“I know that girl.” he cut you off, “I mean why the hell did ya come out here alone in the middle of the damn day?” he spat, literally. With the way he spoke so harshly he accidentally spit on your skin as he hovered above you.

You blinked a few times in slight disgust, “It’s a free country sprinkles,” you commented dryly as you wiped your cheeks, “And anyway, I needed to get away from all the constant noise back there. Didn’t think it would be that big of an issue.” you informed with widened eyes.

His expression continued to remain neutral as he nearly glared down towards you in almost disbelief. Was it because you came out here alone? Because you talked back to him? Or because you pointed out the literal shower coming out of his mouth, you weren’t completely sure. But he didn’t seem to want to say another word.

“Okay…” you trailed off awkwardly as you turned back around to face the water, preparing to just ignore his presence now until he decided to go away. He always did with interactions like this. You would know that better than anyone.

Though this whole interaction confused you slightly. He never seemed to care when you, or anyone else for that matter, went off on their own like this, so why the hell was this situation any different? Maybe he was on his man period or something, who knows. But still, besides the spitting, you couldn’t help but shake how hot he still looked in the sunlight. A part of you almost wished that he would stay.

But after a few lingering minutes, you still felt his hovering presence behind you as he continued to say nothing, yet he continued to stand behind you firmly in place. The whole thing was weird and was honestly starting to make you a little uncomfortable, just wanting to know what was going on in his head.

So you glanced back up at him, “Okay, either leave or come sit down.” you said bluntly, “Your stare is making me itchy.”

He stood there for only a moment or two longer, clearly debating in his head, before moving closer towards the edge where you sat and took a seat for himself with a sigh. His actions honestly surprised you, almost expecting him to just walk away with some kind of grumble under his breath. But it was safe to say he threw you off guard a little bit. That, and he managed to not say something assholey.

“Don’t want yer dumbass somehow gettin yerself killed out here.”

Ah. Never mind.

Your eyes narrowed towards him as you looked at the side of his face, “You think I can’t handle myself or something?”

“I know ya can’t.” he replied without missing a beat.

You scoffed to yourself, “Oh you better watch yourself, I’ll make you eat those words. I could take your ass down if I really wanted to.”

Now it was his turn to scoff as he truly didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, “Alright…”

Rolling your eyes at his response, you reached around behind you to pull out the other fishing rod and held it out to him, “Make yourself useful at least.” you said with a pointed glance.

He eyed the thing in your hand for a long moment, making you think for a moment that he wasn’t even going to try. But again, he seemed to surprise you. He snatched it out of your grasp with a small huff, turning to put some bait on the hook just as you did before throwing the line out onto the lake, a bored expression written on his face.

Well this should be fun.

For a while, you two only sat in complete silence, but it wasn’t one that was uncomfortable. In fact you didn’t mind it in the slightest. He was out here keeping an eye on you, helping you bring something back to the community and it was not something you would be complaining about anytime soon. He sat fairly close to you to the point where you could briefly smell the lingering scent of cigarettes on his clothes. You felt that anyone else would be slightly bothered by the smell, but in all honesty, you loved it.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before Daryl began to shift uncomfortably where he sat, his movements bringing your attention to him. He looked a little stiff, almost uncomfortable as his posture was a little rough around the edges.

“You alright there?” you asked with a raised brow.

He groaned a little as he straightened up, “My back’s fuckin killin me…” he huffed as he continued to squirm a little bit now.

Amusement crossed your features once he said that, “Really? Damn, how old are you?”

His face however was far from amused as he looked back at you with some kind of pointed look, narrowing ever so slightly that caused you to back off. “...Tough crowd…” you muttered while turning your attention back to the lake.

You could briefly see out of the corner of your vision, his eyes were still on you as he let out somewhat of a loud and lingering sigh. “Forty three.” he answered almost regrettably.

It was obvious you were surprised, slowly turning back to face him, glancing over his features before you let out a small, “huh.”

His eyes rolled, “Yeah, go ahead and say whatever, I can feel it comin.” he spoke bitterly as he tugged a little on his pole again.

You laughed a little to yourself, “Calm down, I wasn’t going to say anything bad.”

“Alright…sure.” he spoke again, clearly not believing it as he didn’t look at you again.

“I was actually going to say you don’t look it…so…” you trailed off, your words far from a lie at what first popped into your head. It was honestly hard to believe, thinking to yourself that he looked like he was at least in his mid thirties.

But those words took him a little off guard, looking back towards you to see if you were actually telling the truth, before letting his guard down a little as he felt a little warmth in his chest, “Oh…thanks…I guess.”

You nodded sincerely, “You’re welcome…grandpa.”

The sound surprised you. It even surprised him. But Daryl couldn’t help the sudden laugh he let out at your little jab, covering his mouth as he chuckled to himself in surprise that you said that so effortlessly. Even he had to admit, it was a good one.

You even smiled a little to yourself at the unexpected reaction, seeing him calm down a little as he spoke next, “Man…I guess I walked into that one, I’ll give ya that…”

You dipped your head as you did a little bow from where you sat, “Oh thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week.”

He chuckled quietly again at your sarcastic attitude, wondering to himself for a moment why he hadn’t spent this kind of time with you before. You were both in the same group for a good amount of time, nearly the whole time, and yet neither of you never really sought each other out. The two of you just never had gotten to know one another that well he assumed. But regardless, he supposed it was nice to do it now. Better late than never.

“Why…why haven’t we done this kinda stuff before?” he found himself asking out loud, just a slip of his tongue as he didn’t exactly mean to voice his thoughts like that to you. Though he almost couldn’t help it as he seemed to want to know your point of view.

But nonetheless you responded. “Cause you’re always too busy with bingo.”

He found himself laughing again, hearing you join in after a moment as your quick comebacks seemed to throw him off yet again, “Alright, alright, enough of that shit. Yer gonna make me feel ancient if ya keep it up.”

You laughed again with a shake of your head, “Sorry…but honestly…you kind of intimidate me.”

His brows furrowed a little in confusion, thinking to himself that you of all people wouldn’t have been intimidated in the slightest. Especially because of how long you knew him. “...Really?”

Your gaze ducked a little, “What? You see yourself as some big teddy bear or something, you’re not exactly Mr. Rogers.”

Daryl couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on his face at the comparison, nodding along as if you had a point, “Fair. Just…didn’t think ya saw me like that.”

“Well, if it helps…I don’t anymore. It’s nice to see you laugh…you know, showing some human emotion.”

The small smile he had still hung on his face as he looked at you, nodding again towards you, “It’s nice hearin ya laugh too.” he commented a bit quietly.

You smiled in return, not saying anything else as you were left completely content at where this ended up. You already liked looking at him, that was a given, but you also found yourself liking to see this other side to him as well. The side where he could actually let loose for once instead of putting up this whole tough guy act. And though you didn’t hear him admit it out loud, you knew he liked it too.

Though after only a few minutes of comfortable silence that fell over the two of you, he spoke up again as he squinted his eyes up at the sun, “Damn it’s hot out here.” he commented casually.

You on the other hand practically lit up at the opportunity that was given to you, staying quiet for a moment as you only nodded in agreement to his statement. He thought you couldn’t handle yourself against him? Not being able to catch him off guard? Challenge accepted.

Your eyes trailed down to the water just in front of you, leaning in a bit as you pretend to look at something below the surface, “Hey, do you see that?” you asked as you pointed.

His eyes looked toward you, before leaning down a bit as well to try and make out where you were gesturing to, “Huh? Where?”

“Right there.” you pointed again.

He felt a little stupid as he saw nothing, squinting his eyes more as he leaned a bit closer, “...Where?”

“It’s right…” you trailed off as your other hand moved up to his back, “There!” you said as you gently shoved him into the water, hearing him gasp before he fell face first into the lake with a splash. His reaction alone caused you to quite literally fall over laughing, hugging your sides as you giggled uncontrollably.

He then came back up with a breath, looking at you with a pointed glare as he was now completely soaked, “What the hell’s wrong with ya?” he asked angrily as he shook his head a little for the water that surely got in his ears.

You laughed even harder than before, “You said it was hot.” you pointed out as you laughed again to yourself, “Plus, I just made you eat your words.” you spoke cockily, referring to what he claimed earlier.

He stayed in place for a long moment absolutely dumbfounded, but then again he wasn’t planning on just letting you off the hook like that. He was absolutely drenched and pissed.

You began to notice the serious look he had on his face and you quickly calmed down, “Hey, I’m sorry, it was a joke.” you said as you leaned down a bit lower and reached out to him, “Here.” you offered to help him back up.

The man didn’t even need to think. No hesitation whatsoever. 

He quickly took your hand and pulled you into the water right along with him, hearing your small scream before you fell clumsily into the water. He chuckled to himself as he backed up, seeing your head pop back up almost instantly with shock written all over your features. But then again, you and him both knew you deserved it a little.

“You asshole!” you yelled playfully as you sent a splash toward his face.

“Oh, I’m the asshole?” he yelled back as he sent a splash back towards you, “You started this girl.” he chuckled as he kept pushing the water towards you.

That only caused the two of you to linger and splash each other in the water for quite a long time, neither of you even caring about the amount of time passing by. You were having a good time, playing around in the lake felt incredible on such a hot day like today. And neither of you could deny that each other's company, that was pretty nice too. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had laughed this hard, the situation alone causing you to be taken aback for a moment that Daryl was the one to bring out that side of you again. But it was refreshing, along with the cool water the two of you swam in for a few hours.

Though as the hour grew late and your fingers were starting to get pruney, you both collectively decided to get out and back up to the surface, ringing out your clothes all the while as you prepared for the walk back to the prison.

“No luck with the fishin, huh?” Daryl asked as he shook his head a little, the water droplets from his hair landing on you with how close the two of you were.

You sighed a little as you glanced back at the supplies you brought, “Guess not.” you commented, “But…I do think I found myself a new fishing buddy.” you said as you glanced back at him with a smile.

He looked at you for a moment before scoffing dismissively, “We ain’t no fishin buddies, that shit’s stupid.” he said with a chuckle as he moved around you to begin to gather up the stuff on the dock.

Your mouth dropped in offense, “Oh come on, it would be fun, grandpa’s love fishing.” you teased him as you watched him gather up all the supplies in his arms.

“Stop.” he said dryly as he brushed past you, beginning to walk back towards the prison.

You sighed dramatically, “Well at least bring out the joke book and humor me, it’s going to be a long walk back.”

“I swear to God, girl…” he grumbled a little at your teasing. But as much as he didn’t want you to see it, there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at your words. And maybe a little amusement in his eyes too. Perhaps this whole thing was just the start…maybe he had finally found someone he could laugh and joke with. Someone he could call a friend.

~ Thanks for reading! (also, i am working on a part two for older, it’s just taking me some time. but i promise it’s on the way;))

[sky-is-the-limit]

+18/ AFAB!reader x Captain John Price.

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer, if you are, feel free to write this!

If there's one manspreader amongst the CoD characters, that is Captain John Price and I take no other answers. This man walks like it's heavy, the confidence that he oozes? The years of experience? I don't care what big masked man you have in mind, the second Price walks into a room, everyone shuts the fuck up and waits for him to talk first.

///

Even the sight of him makes your thighs press together in a failed attempt to calm yourself down, feeling your folds soak up, the new pair of undies that you picked this morning already ruined to solely the sound of his voice.

You can't help but wonder if he knows or if he at least suspects the undeniable attraction you feel for him, everyone else sees it. The curious looks you get every time they all leave the room but you always have to stay behind, confirm it. Sometimes you feel like it's mutual, the way he always asks for you to stay a little longer so you can go over the paperwork together, wanting to know how your weekend was.

He always wants to know the details, could it be the sound of your voice or curiosity eating him alive that you could have someone waiting for you when you're not wearing this uniform. It has come to the point where it's unbearable to even be so close to him. Whenever he hands you over the documents, his fingers lingering a bit longer as they touch yours, eyes observing you closely, trailing from your eyes to your neckline and back.

He has to know, right? Is it your desperate delusions or the fact that he asks for you to read out loud the last reports so you stay a little longer with him. It could be loneliness, you know how a man like him gets to spend most of his nights, alone in the cold room here at the base or getting drunk at the nearest pub, watching people come and go yet never building up the courage to leave with someone. Why is it always you he asks for? If it's just a dumb coincidence that your mind turns into suspicion, why is it always your name coming out of his lips like a desperate need?

Maybe it's the way he purposely asks of you to repeat the same sentence, sometimes twice cause he knows that you'll obey no questions asked. No matter how many reports you have learned by heart at this point cause you know you have his undivided attention, eyes stuck on your lips as meaningless words come out of it, only unspoken desires between the two of you.

The way he sits on that wooden chair, his muscular thighs open wide as he leans back, arms crossed over he chest like he has zero responsibilities in the world, nothing else that matters other than you in that moment. Is it your imagination or does he always pull the chair far away from the desk so you can have the full picture? He's not the most expressive man when it comes to his personal feelings, especially when dealing with someone under his command but the way his stoic manner shifts when he catches your eyes linger a little longer on his thighs.. That's when it changes.

That's when he knows he's fully in control. That a single word from his lips could make you do all the inappropriate thoughts clouding up his mind every time you stand in front of him. He has to know.

"Come closer private, you're barely just mumbling and I can't hear a damn thing." Excuses. Your voice is loud and clear. It's like the cat playing with the mouse, a predator messing with it's prey before it grabs it between it's teeth and swallows it whole. John Price is a patient man. With every mission, every colleague, every obstacle in his way. He knows how to form the best strategy, how to win the enemy, how to complete a mission but right now his well-known patience is running thin.

You can tell from the way his lip part when you nod to his overused command, never asking why, never complaining or even daring to raise your gaze to meet his. Pure submission to his every instruction that makes his imagination run wild. The way his fingers tightly grip onto his biceps when you step closer to his desk, barely blinking like he doesn't want to miss a second from the way your hips sway, your teeth sinking down onto your bottom lip as you hesitantly approach him. Yeah he's a patient man but not a saint.

"Again, private." A slight smirk forms onto his lips when he asks you once again to repeat the last sentence you were reading out. God, it must be a pathetic sight, the way you would never accept this type of sadistic behavior from anyone else but would spend hours and hours repeating the same words if it meant that you'd feel his presence so close.

The smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of smoke intoxicating your brain as you take a moment to take it all in. How would he react if he knew that this familiar scent is your only companion at night when you lay naked in your bed, fingers caressing your clit softly while thinking intensely of your Captain. How his repetitive commands obtain a different meaning when you bring your other hand up to your mouth, sucking on your own fingers before trailing them down to your nipples, feeling the sensation taking over your body while his voice is playing over and over again in your head. "Again, private." Wishing it was his fingers slowly making their way down to your entrance, covered in the outcome of his bare existence. "Again, again, again."

"Eyes up here, sweetheart." Fuck. The recall of your lonely memories cut short as you come back to reality, blinking a few times before you realise that your eyes were stuck on his thighs the entire time. You slowly gulp the saliva that gathered into your mouth from your filthy thoughts, hesitantly trailing your eyes back to meet his. You feel your skin on fire, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest. If it was anyone else, you'd feel ashamed, embarrassed that you were caught staring so desperately at your superior but not him. Not to the sight in front of you.

His head is titled to the side, his form unchanged as if he was waiting for this to happen, waiting for when your eyes would finally drift from that unimportant paper to him. The gaze of a touched starved man who has finally run out of patience making you freeze into place. The prey was finally caught and.. Oh, he definitely knows.

[ms-scarletwings]

So there was a note under my post about Zim hovering a finger over the self destruct switch on his first day on Earth that just cracked open something in my mind.

Cause…Oh. Oh hecc you, @murhuedur. You actually touched on like, my favorite thing about this character, period. I really like this take, I do. It’s a good one. I ponder, still,

In my own opinion, it’s actually genuine confidence and arrogance, but Zim’s delusions of grandeur are as a thin rubber band. They can stretch out to wild lengths and remain malleable enough to bend around truth as he wills,

But there’s a hard limit out there eventually, and should reality require him to stretch his cognitive dissonance just too far, it’s a violent snap-back to full clarity. I don’t think he’s faking it or always lying to everyone else about what hot shit he is, because I think he fully believes those lies about as fast as he can speak them, even if he will later realize he was wrong after a cosmic punch to the face.

Like, Zim’s smart, but smart people aren’t inherently rational ones. Within Zim, the tallest, hell, maybe even Skoodge, there’s sometimes this very short-sighted flippancy about what is objectively true/false that peeks out every now and again in their psychology. I mean, humans sometimes do this too when it’s convenient to their interests, just, obviously not to goofy cartoon character levels if they want to function in society.

Zim has whatever this flaw is and cranked up to 11, maybe as a side effect of his PAK defects. Sometimes it gets him into DEEP shit, but it’s also his biggest mental shield. Zim has like no fortitude against spiraling into a full on depression or a justifiable panic attack over the smallest concession of being an absolute failure to his race. That weaponized denial that makes him so dangerous to himself and others also keeps him together and motivated forward. But it’s not largely a conscious lie he’s telling himself. It’s genuine faith he’s trying to manifest into matter through sheer force of his will.

His dogmatic mantra, “I am Zim” and what it means to him is a statement he holds on such conviction it overpowered and hijacked the ego of 3 control brains at once.

If I were inserting him into DnD he’d have the wisdom stat of a stale poptart and a 20+ thrown into charisma. He’s faking it without even understanding he’s faking it.

But were he completely detached from reality, he’d be WAY more likely than even now to accidentally get himself killed. While a narcissistic level of self esteem is what lets him ignore and selectively unhear inconvenient truths, the adrenaline of immediate life or death danger is what grounds him back in the real world. You notice over time that as self-sabotaging as he normally is, he seems to act his most rational and competent when he’s suddenly put against the grindstone and self preservation HAS to jump into the driver’s seat. He basically survives his day to day on a tightrope between a falsely glorious narrative of himself, and his perceptive anxiety both tugging him to land on either side of the fence when something big happens.

In “The Trial”, he wastes very little time on his expected bullshit or his confidence in being able to just win over the approval of his judges.. by virtue of being his awesome self. He spent most of that ordeal on the verge of a heart attack, squirmed to find an escape, and actually tried to DENY causing the death of two Almighty Tallests (reminder that he usually owns up to his atrocities with downright offensive pride). He understood the full gravity of an existence evaluation and how cooked his goose was. As soon as the situation resolves and he’s no longer in that danger, it’s right back to full trust of his status as an invader, and in Red and Purple as his biggest fans. When his disguise starts to slip in front of Skool kids he knows are dumb as a bag of rocks, he can silver tongue his way around that without skipping a beat. Losing his disguise in front of a bunch of alien-obsessed adults? Uh oh, pants-shitting terror, this is potentially game-over levels of bad, immediately gtfo of here. Stand there, chest beat, and scold the obviously rogue duty-mode Gir all day until the second it actually tries to kill you and you suddenly have to realize you’re not the one holding the cards anymore to save your own life.

The other way this quirk of his really shows through is in his selective memory. Zim has this skill to repress down and push away unpleasant experiences that I think some of us can only dream we had. I love it because it’s equal parts a comedic and analytical goldmine.

Tak, who actually posed a legit threat to his entire mission and tried herself to chip through that massive wall of denial he’s shielded in- same Tak who’s powerful af ship was stolen and desecrated by Zim’s arch nemesis… she’s not just an afterthought in his mind after that mess. He’s literally pushed that one out of his thoughts altogether in the comics. Like she, and Skoodge, who he can’t fucking stand, might as well have never even existed, even while GIR’s trying to remind him. That time he played around with time travel and it was one of the biggest clusterfucks he quickly lost control of? The bologna incident he stooped so low as to ask dib to help him with? You must be thinking of someone else. Nope. Not a thing. Lalala, can’t even hear you. This is also what makes it no wonder he deeply struggles with actually learning from certain mistakes.

From an outsider’s eye this behavior of his is baffling. It makes him look actually insane or at least obnoxiously obstinate. And I think both assumptions are half right, because this is clearly not the result of mere stupidity. Those truths are simply wayyyy too discordant with his view of himself to devote surface memory to, or too uncomfortable, unless and until, of course, you confront him with them in a fashion where that rubber band has to snap, that bubble pops, and he instantly sobers out of that complacency.

Literally god forbid he ever stops being defective in this way or is given the ability to reckon with the reality of his situation and his history all at once. I’m not even just talking about his job or banishment. I’m talking about his entire life. This chaotic, flexible, incoherent mindstate is the only branch he’s holding onto from dropping into a much more horrifying chasm beneath himself, the depth of which we can only guess. I straight up have no idea what he would do or what could happen to him if he could, even for a moment, rationally comprehend his every action, memory, and empirical truth all at the same time. Seriously, leave that Pak’s Gordian Knot be, or I imagine there could be an HP Lovecraft type of breakdown in the making.

#By the way this is probably one of the most important differences between him and Dib, and what makes Zib so… way he is.

[hifumi-123]

Actually, no one asked me this, I photoshopped it myself.

Anyways, here’s the

Majima with a s/o who has chubby hands:

Recently, you came across an article online titled "Beauty Starts with the Hands!" The main content suggests that all beautiful people in the world have slender, elegant hands, so you should start taking care of your hands too. The article lists several key features of beautiful hands:

First, beautiful fingers should be slender and long. Generally, a woman's hands are considered aesthetically pleasing if the ratio between fingers and palm is close to the golden ratio of 0.618.

Second, beautiful hands should be flawless. Darker coloration around the joints or noticeable hangnails around the nails can affect the overall cleanliness of the hands.

Third, beautiful hands must be fair-skinned. White and clean hands are more attractive. If the skin tone of the hands is too dark, they won't look good no matter what. So, one should pay attention to their hand's skin tone (though you think this point smacks of racial discrimination, the editor was too careless).

Fourth, beautiful hands should be hairless. If body hair is too noticeable, it will make the hands look fuzzy, obscuring the skin tone and texture. This is especially true for women with excessive body hair, which can be even more prominent and darker than men's.

These are the essential features of attractive hands.

Moreover, the article provides numerous solutions to address these issues. For longer, slender fingers, try hand massages. To remove darkness around joints, use exfoliating scrubs. For fairer hands, apply more sunscreen. To deal with body hair, use hair removal devices. With consistent care, one can achieve beautiful, attractive hands.

After reading this article, you can't help but sigh. It's not easy being a woman nowadays! Not only do you have to take care of your face and hair, but now your hands too! This whole regimen seems more exhausting than military service.

Although you want to say you don't care about your hands, the truth is—

"Ah! Why do my hands look so chubby? My fingers are short and pudgy, they look just like a baby's hands..."

Looking at your hands, you can't help but ponder. You're an adult now, theoretically a "mature woman." That's how it should be.

But why are your hands still chubby?

You always thought it was because you were overweight, but even after losing some weight recently, you noticed your hands didn't change at all. The parts that were chubby remained so. You painfully realize once again that your hands are truly not attractive. At least, they can't be considered beautiful hands.

You know that to others, this might seem like a trivial matter, not worth mentioning. When you discuss this with friends, they tell you not to worry about such unimportant things. However, hands can reflect a person's character. From the neatness of nails, presence of hangnails, or calluses on fingers, one can deduce a person's background. Beautiful hands are always well-cared for. Every time you look at your baby-like hands with calluses from gripping pens too tightly during your student days, you feel anxious and ashamed. Honestly, it's a hurdle you can't seem to overcome.

Although the article seems like an silent advertisement, it has caused you considerable anxiety. Before reading it, you never even thought about whether your hands were attractive or fair enough. Your current situation is like "not particularly caring about something, but once someone points it out, you start to become conscious of it."

After all this rambling, it boils down to:

"I want to have beautiful hands like a hand model!"

That's what it's all about.

After dinner, despite Majima's kind reminder that "lying down right after eating will turn you into a pig," you lazily sprawl on the sofa, tossing and turning. Hearing your complaints about your hands, the sound of water in the kitchen suddenly stops. Majima, who was washing dishes, dries his wet hands with a towel and says with a look of exasperation:

"Huh? I didn't know about that. There's nothing wrong with them, is there? Yer fingers are all there, all ten of them, aren't they? Isn't that enough?"

"What? Don't apply yakuza standards to me, okay?" You sit up on the sofa and reply irritably. "Normal people don't get their fingers cut off even if they make mistakes."

Majima chuckles and plops down next to you.

"Then let me see. Let this former cabaret club owner who has seen countless hands judge whether Y/n's hands are unattractive. Come on, give me yer hand," he urges, extending his own.

You place your plump hand on his palm. Compared to Majima's large, masculine hands, yours look even more childlike. Majima gently massages your hand. Whether it's because he finds it amusing or not, he always likes to knead your hand like this. He probably treats it like a squishy toy. But you don't mind, as it feels quite comfortable, almost like a massage.

"I really like Y/n's soft hands. Even if ya might not," he says softly.

You find it hard to understand why he would like these hands that are far from "beautiful." You silently look at Majima's lowered face, feeling conflicted once again. Is he saying this just to comfort you? Like how mothers always say their children are beautiful.

"Don't you wish your girlfriend had more slender and elegant hands?" you ask.

"Are ya stupid? Isn't smooth and soft very cute? Anyway, I really like yer hands. They're soft to hold, just like those things—" Majima furrows his brow, seemingly searching for the right word. "Ah, they're called Squishy, right? Yes, just like a Squishy."

He can say such embarrassing things so casually. What a strange person. You can't help but laugh, then sincerely tell him: "Although I don't really like these hands myself, if Goro likes them, then even childish hands are okay."

After receiving so much praise, you want to look at Majima's hands too. So you cup his hands and start examining them closely.

Compared to yours, his hands are much larger and more substantial. Surprisingly, Majima's nails are well-shaped and neatly trimmed, his fingers are long, and his knuckles are prominent. You could say they are very typical "man's hands." It's unfair that even his hands are so handsome. Perhaps because he usually wears leather gloves, his hands don't have many calluses, and even though he often holds knives when fighting, his palms are still smooth.

"Hmm..." you pretend to ponder, "According to the essential features of beautiful hands, you have a pair of beautiful hands."

Majima laughs, clutching his stomach, then wipes tears from the corner of his eye. "Is that so?" he says, "Then it seems I'm more suited to be the girlfriend."

"Alright then, you can be the girlfriend," you joke, "I'll call you Goromi from now on."

Majima shakes his head and sighs, "That name is too corny. If we have children in the future, ya can't give them such tacky names, okay?"

Hearing his words, you feel your cheeks warming up. You turn your head away, deliberately not looking at him, "I'm ignoring you now. I'm going to take a bath."

"Wanna bathe together?" he asks, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

You know well that if you agree to his invitation now, Majima will definitely wear you out before letting you leave. You've experienced this firsthand several times before, so you quickly get up from the sofa.

"No need, I can wash myself!"

You walk into the bathroom with agility completely different from your previous lazy attitude, hearing Majima's cheerful laughter coming from the living room.

Once my friend mentioned that my head is quite large, I began to realize how big it actually is. But before that, I never thought there was an issue with my head at all. Recently, I came across discussions online about protruding mouths, and only then did I notice that my own mouth is a bit protruding. I even entertained the idea of getting braces, but I found out that just wearing them wouldn't fix the issue. I would have to undergo a jaw surgery to correct the protrusion. So, I abandoned the idea since this problem doesn't affect my ability to enjoy food.

I feel like a lot of appearance anxieties stem from others' opinions. I believe it's not worth paying too much attention to what they say. Instead of changing yourself to fit other people's standards of beauty, it's better to learn to accept yourself first. After all, no matter how perfect you are, others will always find flaws in you.

Can’t believe that I said something this profound

[p0rkbun]

APACHE TEARS┊❝Happy Birthday.❞ Chapter 01

─ Sam Carpenter x OC

Synopsis: Alexis forgets her birthday, but she didn't forget to visit her childhood best friend.

Content warnings: bad writing, slow burn, mention of being chased by a dog, original characters, not proofread, other than that there's nothing too serious.

Word count: 3.4k

Before Alexis left Woodsboro, she lived her childhood in the town that was known for its murders in the 90s. Something like that—you don’t expect to live an ordinary life, would you?

A very slim chance you would have a life with no mishaps in a town like that. Even though it has been eleven years since the last murders happened, some crimes occur every now and then. People doing drugs, accidents, assaults, attempted murder, and more. Despite these occurrences, Alexis had gone on with her life, trying to avoid anything that might make her life miserable, and she did. She was smart enough to avoid anything suspicious, including not answering calls from strangers, not going out late at night, having protection, and knowing when someone is planning to mug you.

It was common sense; even a half-brain would know this!

But Alexis wasn’t lucky. Her efforts were all in vain, because not even intuition could stop any misfortune sent to her. Not only did she never felt safe, but she never had any expectations for her own solace.

One day, she caught a blue butterfly around the playground when she was a young girl. The insect had beautiful blue wings—not something you’d see every day—along with its rapid wings that Alexis almost failed to keep up with. The young girl stared at the insect with interest and fascination, wanting to take it home. She didn't, since she knew keeping a butterfly would not last, so she released the creature.

It wasn’t long until a stray and horrifying dog plunged its canine teeth onto the butterfly, ripping its small wings in an instant. The wrecked beauty was nowhere to be seen, already evaporated and chewed by the rabid animal.

Alexis only stared in shock before she took off, frantically fleeing from the dog chasing the poor girl.

Before she knew it, the memories of her first sight of horror were nothing but a faint memory that left her story of how she has cynophobia. Thinking about it now, she thought about how easily a dog can rip a small creature to shreds, thus scaring another one. It was the same thing with humans.

You can easily take someone’s life; for what cause? For your own survival? Pleasure? Revenge? A relief for your buried anger erupting within yourself?

No matter the reasons, the act of killing someone was immoral and will always be something that’s kept with you until the day you breathe your last breath. Even after death.

Years went by in the blink of an eye. Alexis was no longer a little girl but a drowsy looking freshman in college in Modesto, California. She felt like going back to her dorm to sleep, feeling regret seeping in after she accepted the offer from a friend to hang out.

“Aw you already cut your hair? Lame, I already miss your long hair." The charming-looking boy gives Alexis a teasing grin. “You told me to do something new for myself, didn’t you?” Alexis replies with a sigh to Jesse.

Jesse was the first person she met when she moved to Modesto for her college, he was smiley and handsome-looking, and he knew how to dress neatly even for casual hangouts. Coincidentally, the boy was assigned as her roommate. If you met him, he’d be someone with a bit of an obnoxious exterior, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s pretty considerate, Alexis honestly had thoughts of him liking her because of how abnormally nice he is, the other part is him possibly being an asshole underneath that grin. Not the case; however, he's just... slow sometimes.

“Yeah but I didn’t know you were gonna cut your hair!” He exclaimed, “Dude, everybody was literally telling you how long and pretty your hair looked, they’re gonna be devastated if they see you now.” Alexis glances at Jesse “I’m sure it’s not that serious. It’s a matter of time anyway. I don’t know why I kept my hair that long, I feel so much light now.” 

“Really? Did having long hair feel heavy?” Jesse asks with genuine curiosity.

“Of course it does,” Alexis said, her face contorted with irritation. “Could you leave the questions later? Where are we even going?” Jesse lets out a sheepish chuckle at the girl’s response.

“Okay, alright! C’mon grumps” He held Alexis’ sleeve and led her to wherever their destination was.

She didn’t pay attention to where Jesse led her; in an instant, they were at a small shop. The sign was detailed in black, and the exterior was full white. They both stepped in and met with the sight of accessories and items. All of them are for school, studying, or just for looking nice via keychains, pins, desk lamps, and more.

“Woah, i didn’t know they had something like this here,” Alexis says with surprise. She looks back up to Jesse “Is this some kind of thing you’re doing to get a date with me?” Jesse snorts. “No way! I know you’re not into me.” 

“Then what’s the occasion?”

"C'mon, Al, it’s your birthday!” Alexis blinks at him.

“....It is?” The younger girl thinks, and finally realization hits her. "Shit, I forgot...”

Jesse lets out a small laugh and nudges her arm “That’s kinda funny, how’d you forget your own birthday? Did you not celebrate a lot?” Before Alexis could answer him, Jesse drags her to a shelf and picks out a keychain of a cute looking brown bear. “Cute, right?”

She stares at the pin, rubbing the surface a bit as she inspects it. "Yeah," she mumbles, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. “Weird…I remember getting something like this on my birthday.” The taller boy hums. “A pin?” Alexis shakes her head lightly. "No, the bear.” Jesse stared at her with a perplexed look before he spoke, and his words made Alexis laugh. “You got a bear for your birthday?”

“No, it was a..." Her voice trails before she hums as she tries to recall what it was that reminded her of years ago. 

"Actually, I’m not so sure.”

“Happy birthday!” A young girl exclaims with a small gift box in her hands. Ten-year-old Alexis accepts the gift by taking it in her hands. She lifts her head to look at her friend. “You remembered my birthday?” The girl nods and smiles.

Tara was Alexis’ friend, her first and best friend, and she still is as she grows older. She met Tara at the playground when they were about six or seven. Alexis was a year older than Tara, but that didn’t change their close relationship with one another. Tara was the only friend who wanted to talk to her and hang out with her almost every day. 

“How could I forget?” She giggles; she holds Alexis’ hand while walking her back into the house. “You got me a bracelet a few months ago when it was my birthday; I wanted the both of us to match!” She beams with happiness when she sees Alexis’ small smile. “But that bracelet was pretty expensive; how’d you manage to buy the same one?” This causes the shorter girl to stammer a bit. "Well….I kinda begged Sam to buy it."

“Tara!”

“What?” Alexis sighs at her. This girl…

“Why’d you have to bother your sister?” She puts the bracelet on her wrist. The bracelet had small fake pearls on it, along with the green-colored string. Honestly, Alexis would consider it a scam since it was too expensive for its looks; it looked pretty, but it didn’t match the price. She only realized that after buying the thing. “It’s fine! Sam didn’t mind, i think...  besides she likes you; she even bought you your favorite soy milk on the way home.” Tara says this and hands her friend a soy milk box.

Alexis looks at the box and feels a small burst of joy in her heart. She rarely gets to see Sam, her best friend’s older sister, but she always made her feel comfortable when they were together. She found the older girl cool and sweet; she was a little quiet and scary at times, but it felt nice knowing Sam didn’t mind her. Things have been different for the last year for some reason. She was more distant, but that wasn’t weird for Alexis; she knew people change and get busy sometimes.

Alexis sends Tara an appreciative look before speaking “Could you tell her thanks?”

Tara frowns at the girl. “Hey! You didn’t say ‘thank you’ to me!” She huffs.

“Thank you, you brat.” Alexis rolls her eyes and receives a pinch from Tara for her response. “Ouch stop!” She hisses and pinches Tara back, earning a squeal from the shorter girl. “Ow! I got you a gift and this is what you repay me?!” Alexis dodged Tara’s hand when she tried to pinch her again.

The two ran back to Alexis’ house while giggling and squealing; it wasn’t rare when Tara visited her house. She seems to like being there more than her own home, especially nowadays. Alexis always got her to watch movies or play together.

Alexis snaps out of her daydream and finds herself resting her head on the desk. Memories of her childhood lives fresh in her mind; the ones she could remember vividly were with her best friend. The only memories she wished she could have visited again, being a kid again at least. Everything used to feel so much lighter. Only now, Alexis didn’t wake up and rode her bike around the neighborhood without any worries. Everything was so different; she feels like it was yesterday when she was spending most of her time watching horror movies and hanging out with her best friend. Crazy huh? You never thought time would pass so fast.

The next thing you were a happy kid, not knowing much about the world, until you grew up feeling bitter about things. Sometimes you wish you were a dumb kid who doesn’t know any better again.

Tara sent you a message.

Tara ♥️: Happy birthday lexi

Tara ♥️: I wish I got you something :( I know you’re busy and stuff. You gonna come to visit?

Alexis smiles at the text.

Lex: Yeah I will dw

Lex: Now stop being sad, be ready tmr Im gonna visit my dad first before you

Tara ♥️: Im not first? Wowww i thought im your first in everything. Finally over your best friend huh

Lex: Cmon you know I love you, I just love my dad more

Tara ♥️: You’re an asshole come quick before i hate you forever

Lex: You won’t

On the other side of the screen, Tara's lips curled into a bright smile. After a few months, she finally got to see her best friend again. It hasn’t been long, but it felt like a while for Tara, and it made her anxious. Alexis knew Tara wouldn’t like this distance between them, especially after…

No, let’s not.

But Alexis didn’t have a choice nonetheless; her dad didn’t want her in that town, and deep inside, she agreed with him. She could have brought Tara with her, but she doesn’t really have the requirements currently. So they both settled, visiting Tara once or twice every few months until she could kidnap her and put her in her pocket to live with her in Modesto. Doing it in a friendly way, of course.

Before leaving, Alexis decides to take a trip to the convenience store to buy some things for her ride. Driving came to mind, but she brushed it off, thinking it was too much of a hassle, and decided to take the bus instead.

Upon arriving at the store and stepping in, her mind wonders as she browses through the shelves, picking up a drink and a small snack. She thinks about how Tara’s been doing without her for the past few months. Alexis had the tendency to worry about the younger girl, even if she had others with her back at Woodsboro. Her thought was cut short when another person came to mind.

“hm…I wonder where Sam is and how she’s doing now.” She mumbles to herself; eventually, she purchases her drink and snack before exiting the store to wait for the bus.

How long has it been since Alexis saw Sam? She doesn’t know; she forgot when the older girl disappeared so suddenly. How did she even feel? She doesn’t remember.

With each passing day, Alexis would sometimes wonder what Sam was doing. Probably living her life peacefully without any disquietude. Or not.

The sound of a text message makes her stop halfway to the bus station. Alexis pulls out her phone to see Jesse’s message pop up.

Hey sorry but I left something somewhere and I’m a bit busy right now to get it.

I know you’re going to visit your family today but could you get my headphones and hold on to them for a while until you get back? Its at the bowling alley, you know, the one next to the gas station. Thanks 😀

This little…

Whatever, only 15 minutes remain until the bus arrives. This wouldn’t be so bad; make it really quick.

Alexis jogs to the bowling alley and enters through the door while receiving a greeting from a tall girl at the desk. “Welcome to Cardinal Lanes; how may I help you?” As Alexis approaches the desk, she takes in the tall girl’s appearance for a moment.

She was tall and had her black hair with brown highlights tied into a bun. Her eyes were dark brown, and she had tan skin, along with a rather expressionless face when Alexis entered, but a small smile formed on her face to be appealing and polite.

"Hi, sorry, a friend of mine left something here. Headphones with light-green and grayish colors?” Alexis rushed, not wanting to miss the bus; her voice was breathless from running.

The tall girl nods. “Oh yeah sure, I think I know what you’re talking about. Wait for a moment, miss.” She disappears into the back room for a moment before coming back with Jesse’s headphones.

“Here–” Alexis cuts her off, “Thanks so much—sorry I’m in a rush." She takes the headphones from her and pauses to look up at the woman.

Alexis can’t help but feel sympathy for the stranger; she looked tired as if she’s been working all day every day. Yet she tried to put on an expression to look winsome for the place’s policy and pleasing customer service—something like that.

A rush of thoughts swirled in Alexis’ mind. Funny how she was in a rush, but for some reason she wanted to make this stranger’s day a bit better. This always happens; at the most critical moments, most times, Alexis has this thing of wanting to cheer a stranger up when she sees them down. She knew she needed to mind her own business about whatever miserable thing was going on with somebody unknown to her in their lives. But would you cheer up this tall, pretty, and downhearted-looking girl even if you’re in a rush?

Shit what the hell do I do? What am I doing? I don’t have any time for this. But she looks kinda sad. What the hell…okay stop staring at her like a weirdo.

The tall girl furrows her brows in confusion at Alexis, feeling a bit anxious and flustered at this random Asian girl staring in silence.

“Is there something wrong, Miss?” She asks while her dark brown eyes linger on Alexis.

Alexis blinks and averts her gaze for a split second. “Um yeah, sorry uh…” She stammers before swiftly pulling out a bear pin that she bought that morning and placing it firmly in the stranger’s hands. “Sorry uhm, here’s something of my gratitude for your service—thanks again, bye!” Before she could reply anything back, Alexis had already bolted out of the bowling alley.

The bowling alley attendant frowns at what just happened. She looks at the pin in her hands, her expression puzzled. Weird girl…. she thought. Unknown to Alexis, she probably made someone’s day a little better with her small act of kindness.

Upon arriving at Woodsboro, Alexis feels a sense of familiarity with the town. As much as she doesn’t like it, she misses some of the aspects of the place.

Throughout the ride, Alexis felt the need to jump out of the bus and into a ditch because of her awkwardness earlier. Being back at the place where she grew up took her mind off that for a while.

“Hey dad,” Alexis says to the phone with a bright smile, feeling excited to see her father again after months.

“Lexi? Honey, hey, how are you?” Dewey’s voice was heard through the phone, his soft tone making Alexis smile wider.

“I’m doing fine; I’m visiting you today.” Silence fell momentarily; this made Alexis a little nervous before Dewey spoke again.

“Honey…I told you not to come here.” He sighs through the phone, making Alexis feel a little guilty. “I know but I just wanted to see you." She responded as she walked along the sidewalk; it still brightened out as the sunlight hit Alexis’ face, causing her to squint. “I’m only visiting for a few days; I’m planning to stay at Tara’s house.”

“Oh Alexis…  you know I don’t like that.”

“What’s wrong? I thought you like Tara?” Her response causes him to exhale deeply. "You have to understand that even though I like her and she’s nice for you, I find it difficult to get a good night's sleep knowing that you are here at someone else's house." Alexis lets out a small sigh as she listens to her father’s words.

“I’m not staying at ‘somone’s’ house,” “I know, I know." "Dad, c’mon...”

Dewey goes silent for a bit, waiting for what his daughter has to say. “Dad… I know a lot has happened here, and a lot has happened with you and me as well, but things aren’t like that anymore. It’s been ten years, and nothing strange has happened—no ghostfaces, no killers. I’m not blaming you for being paranoid, but I want to spend time with you without the thought of another murder happening.” 

“I just wanted to see you. Don't you miss me, dad?” Alexis’ words hit Dewey like tree logs crushing a brittle shed. He lets out a sigh before chuckling a bit.

“You didn’t have to say that to your old man; of course I missed you.” He smiles on the other side of the phone before continuing, “Alright, I’ll let you stay, but you’ll leave first thing in the morning on your last day, and make sure to see me.”

Alexis hums. “I will. I’m going to go see you right now, later, Dad.”

“Stay safe, sweetheart.” With that, Alexis hung up and was about to continue walking until she was met with familiar black hair in her sight.

The girl stood in front of her with a grin—Alexis could recognise that smile everywhere. She didn’t expect her to be the first face she'd see once she stepped into this morbid town.

“Well, look who’s back in town.” She laughs, grinning wider, and steps closer to Alexis. “Haven’t seen you in a while; it’s nice seeing you again.” She said in a low tone, her voice sounded sweet.

Alexis gave Amber an acknowledging and surprised expression. She feels a tingly feeling in her stomach—not a good one. It’s a feeling similar to when someone you aren’t that fond of meets you on your way to your destination. Or when a teacher calls your name to ask a question about the lesson you learned but didn’t bother to remember, feeling like your heart stopped for a second. She feels dread for some unknown reason; she always has bad energy whenever she’s with Amber. It’s not because she’s sort of got this bad girl's agenda or that she has a violent way of expressing anger.

Amber is awfully nice to Alexis, and she doesn’t like that. 

If somebody is nice to you, you wouldn’t be feeling a sense of dread. So, why?

It’s always been like this with them; Alexis always felt something was wrong with that girl, and it’s a little messed up to think that.

“What’s with that face?” Amber tilts her head, her eyes lingering on Alexis.

Alexis needed to make this quick before she vomits from anxiety.

— Note: thank you if you managed to read this whole ridiculous thing 🥹 You're probably wonder about Amber and Alexis, they have a complicated relationship which will be revealed more into the story. I'll have to make a new character biography for Alexis soon lol.

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

Same anon who just asked about why you placed Adrien as a 7 instead of a 2, only to look deeper in the reblogs of your ML enneagram post and see you already answered it haha!

In friendly defense of 2!Adrien, I’d argue that his reactions to being stressed coming off as more of a 7 rather than a 2 is actually a perfect reflection of the effects of his abuse; it’s fear that drives his non-confrontation tendencies rather his own nature. I think Risk highlighted that a bit in revealing how Adrien does desire confrontation, even if he doesn’t act on it.

(I have always found it interesting to consider the role that trauma/neurodivergency plays in shaping a character’s personality, since it’s one of the flaws I feel most personality assessments can’t really account for.)

I also think Chat’s arguments with LB were more like to be confrontational than avoidant (thinking of the times he’s called her out and his romantic pursuit being the primary indicators), up until she became the Guardian. So then with S4, I’d consider it to be a gradual relationship shift that leads to Chat no longer feeling safe and secure enough in his position to confront her the way he once did, which is why he only tries a bit in Kuro Neko before running, and then doesn’t try at all in Strikeback.

I hope this doesn’t come off as too preachy or anything, just wanted to share my 2¢! Cause either way you slice it, your Adrien has always been brilliantly written and incredibly in-character to me, so you’ve clearly got a rock solid understanding of his character. ❤️

hello november anon and sorry for the delay! thank you so much for the ask and also for going back and looking through my prev posts. you know my teacher heart loves it when you do the readings! 😌 also you're definitely not the only one who believes adrien is a 2 rather than a 7! and while i know there are good arguments for both sides, i'll explain in depth my position on adrien's personality.

part 1 of the ask:

so here are the reasons i think adrien IS an enneagram type 7

adrien's motivation seems like that of a 7 to me: he wants to experience everything and be satisfied in every way he can. if he had a disney princess "i want" song, it would be "i want to go to school, i want to make friends, i want adventure in the great wide somewhere., i want to have fun."

the literal first shot of him in the show (if we use origins as a starting point) is adrien running away. nathalie asks him to please reconsider, he knows what his father wants, and adrien says, "but this is what i want to do." according to the enneagram institute, "sevens do not see themselves as the center of a community or family, but as members of a free-floating band of fellow adventurers whose own enjoyment is enhanced by being with others." going to school and having a new experience with new people is what's going to enhance adrien's enjoyment of life - not being the center of his family unit or the apple of his father's eye.

a 2's motivation would be to be as loved as possible and to make themselves neeed by those they most care about. while adrien definitely shows a desire to be loved and needed, especially by ladybug, i think his primary desire is for experience, and it's this from which all his actions- not just characteristics - are based. take for example his reaction to getting his miraculous vs marinette's (also in origins):

adrien is excited and intrigued and ready to go, as a 7 would be when offered a new experience - and a new way to satisfy their desire to try everything. marinette, as a 1, is quite the opposite: she is being put in a situation where she must do something right or fail, and therefore is stressed tf out. while marinette's motivation to be good/perfect fuels her anxious reaction, adrien's motivation to experience everything and be satisfied fuels his thrilled and slightly reckless reaction. that's why he charges out into battle without listening to all the instructions; his motivation was to escape the restraints of his life and try something new.

in growth, enneagram 7's take on the positive traits of 5's. in stress, they take on the negative traits of 1's. i have seen adrien exhibit these behaviors throughout the show on many occasions!

according to the enneagram institute, "Sevens have fear about their inner world. There are feelings of pain, loss, deprivation, and general anxiety that Sevens would like to stay clear of as much as possible. To cope with these feelings, Sevens keep their minds occupied with exciting possibilities and options— as long as they have something stimulating to anticipate, Sevens feel that they can distract themselves from their fears." therefore, while one can argue that adrien's wealth of knowledge and fun facts is a result of everything gabriel has forced him to learn (mandarin, piano, fencing, medieval horse colors), we can assume he at least was interested in it - and that seeking new knowledge like a 5 kept him from lingering in his sadness.

"i'll help you learn mandarin marinette" "i'll show you how to fence marinette" "most people think henry iv's white horse was white my lady" "do you need subtitles my lady i speak several languages"

now as to how adrien moves to the low parts of type 1 during the show: i think the main examples of this are the instances he adopts rigid, critical, and judgemental characteristics, which is potentially unpleasant for anyone who has to be around him.

first up, adrien's akumatized forms: chat blanc, ephemeral, celesticat

i bring up the akumas because, though adrien isn't in his right mind (by hawkmoth's akumas), they are examples of adrien being in extreme stress.

as chat blanc, adrien wants to either right the world or destroy it for being wrong - the critical supreme judgement an unhealthy 1 is capable of. he lashes out when contradicted, and is quite ruthless even to marinette, who he loves, in the name of executing judgement.

as ephemeral, adrien seeks to control time. (however, this is probably the weakest example because adrien was being amok-controlled in this instance and was acting on shadow moth's will, not his own.)

i include celesticat because while this is an example of a "good" akumatization, adrien was still under so much stress that an akumatization was able to take place. yet even while being in "good" stress, adrien still shows characteristics of 1: perfectionism, righteousness, taking control of the situation. he literally turns into a pure white angelic being, an embodiment of perfection. it's what he believes he has to do in order to salvage the situation. it's one of the more healthier moves from 7 to 1 i have seen depicted in media and is entirely plausible concept under the enneagram's theory! this just goes to show the depth and richness of his character.

next, we will discuss adrien's various alter egos:

cat walker

i've said it before and i'll say it again; cat walker is another move from 7 -> 1.

as chat noir, adrien is at the height of his 7-ness. he enjoys the freedom that his miraculous powers and secret identity gives him, and uses it as a means of escape from the regular constraints of his life and obligations. then in kuro neko when ladybug slights him, she denies him the fulfilment and satisfaction in reaching his full potential as chat noir (e.g., being of equal importance on the team as her) that he should be allowed. of course he becomes hurt and angry! she's stepping on his core desire in life.

according to enneagram coach dr. tom lahue (my favorite enneagram guy ((also a 7)), "type 7's typically deal with anger by trying to avoid it or deflect it. that really is the anger type of a 7 - deflective. deflecting things away." that's what i believe cat walker is: a stress reaction, a deflection of his anger with ladybug. he deflects his painful emotions into something he thinks is positive; a new start.

adrien is usually so joyful and optimistic, but this was a huge blow for him. dr. tom says the best way for a 7 to handle this anger is to be "real and genuine" when coming to terms with it, what does adrien do instead? he turns to a new alter ego. he chases the experience of fulfillment, only he does so by adopting a persona who is serious and perfectionist. obviously this was neither what adrien or ladybug needed, and that is because cat walker is a stress reaction who adrien cannot sustain without continued levels of unhealthy self-denial. this is the hardest he has gone to 1 in the show and what it took to snap him out of it was a level of reflection, analysis, and objectivity (that this was an unhealthy behavior) indicative of a type 5 - and which shows his progression to growth.

2. aspik

one can argue that aspik is more proof of adrien being a 2 than a 7 actually, as his motivations for becoming aspik were to woo ladybug. however, the stress response of a type 2 is to move to the negative qualities of type 8, which is to lash out at those who they believe have taken them for granted.

according to the enneagram institute,

"Average to unhealthy Twos seek validation of their worth by obeying their superego’s demands to sacrifice themselves for others. They believe they must always put others first and be loving and unselfish if they want to get love. The problem is that “putting others first” makes Twos secretly angry and resentful, feelings they work hard to repress or deny. Nevertheless, they eventually erupt in various ways, disrupting Twos’ relationships and revealing the inauthenticity of many of the average to unhealthy Two’s claims about themselves and the depth of their “love.”

as aspik, adrien was never resentful of ladybug for taking him for granted or making him feel rejected. as aspik, his goal was never to make himself needed by her. as aspik, he maintained some extreme levels of optimism that ignored the rational conclusion that he should give up for several thousand time loops. as aspik, he was able to let go and displace his hopes in himself to someone else - and run off to his responsibility as chat noir with high spirits (though i'm sure the ladrien kiss helped)

3. griffe noire

this has got to be the most stressful stress reaction i've seen on adrien. and you might say "but wackus he looks nothing like a type 1" and i say "JUST HOLD ON

going back to dr. tom's analysis on type 7's in anger, he says, "7's typically express their anger indirectly, e.g., through sarcasm, like 5's - like 6's sometimes... but they quickly try to move on and reframe into a more positive way." griffe noire, rather than telling jokes and puns to lighten the mood, mocks and ridicules poor toxinelle who has not convinced me she doesn't have a crush on him. 1's actually do the same thing when they are unhealthy; they criticize and blame and nag others for not being up to par, and by directing his anger at his situation onto toxinelle, griffe noire is doing the same.

dr tom goes on to say, "in some cases [7's] might take impulsive actions to try to free themselves from this feeling of being trapped... engaging in frenetic escapism in behaviors or addictions or substances to try to distance themselves from those who are frustrated with them... or their own anger/pain in life." we have seen griffe noire engage in multiple frenetic behaviors while running amok (haha), all of which are clearly attempts to redirect his pain and anger/ keep it from consuming him. for example, griffe noire takes chat noir's cataclysm to the chest as though it's a game. for another, he openly threatens to destroy the entire world with his super cataclysm. and of course, he is constantly abusing his miraculous by over-exerting his powers in a way only adults should. yet all of these destructive behaviors are still adrien's way of escaping his normal life, and his everyday pain. it's almost like his self-destruction is his addiction.

and yet by the end, it took the introspection of type 5 for griffe noire to realize that his behavior was unhealthy. he observed, he listened, he showed an inquisitiveness that brought him back from the brink. and he also upgraded his outfit so if that isn't a type 7 path to growth i don't know what is!

now i know i won't have convinced everybody, so i just want to drop this section from the enneagram institute's text on misidentifying 2's and 7's:

Although both types are gregarious and enjoy being with people, their interpersonal styles are noticeably different. The Two... would like to be the heart and soul of a family or community, the best friend or confidant everyone comes to for attention, advice, and approval. Twos want to be significant to others and on intimate terms with them, although sometimes they go too far, meddling too much and being too solicitous to make sure they are needed.

adrien is not focused on being needed by anybody, not even ladybug (although due to his romantic interest in her, i can understand why people think so). being the heart and soul of the team is not what motivates him; primarily, i think he just likes having all the experiences he wouldn't otherwise get to have without being chat noir.

By contrast... Sevens do not see themselves as the center of a community or family, but as members of a free-floating band of fellow adventurers whose own enjoyment is enhanced by being with others.... Sevens may thus exhibit a certain generosity, although their motives may well have less to do with helping needier friends than with making sure that they themselves have a good time by having others around.

this isn't to say that adrien is just focused on having a "good time." i see that his enjoyment is amplified when he is surrounded by people he loves and cares for. he is motivated to have good experiences, and be fulfilled by trying everything, and becoming close to people and forming loving relationships is just a happy byproduct of that.

now there ARE several caveats to my analysis which provide potential arguments against typing adrien as a 7 - and which i can touch on briefly before i close:

adrien's abuse: i understand that trauma and anxiety can affect personality deeply. i'm not qualified to speak on this, or on how it should or shouldn't affect any personality type. i can only say that i think adrien has acted pretty consistently under stress as far as the show depicts

inconsistent characterization: i think we can all agree that ml won't be winning any awards for its consistency in characterization. which i know sounds contradictory to what i just said about how it depicts adrien under stress, but i think there IS a lot of discrepancy in this show and over the course of 9 years with different teams of writers all trying to execute one person's vision, inconsistencies are bound to happen.

thank you again for the ask, anon, and thank YOU if you have read all the way through! tell me your thoughts, if you make it down here - whether you agree/disagree or are just nodding along and letting me indulge in my enneagram brainrot! this is an entirely in-good-faith interpretation of mine, and i'd love to see other opinions if you have them!

[andreal831]

What kind of a person do you think Kol would be if being a vampire didn't take away witch powers?

This is one of those topics that I'll admit some biases. With most of the characters in TVDU, we get hints of the past but we don't see the full thing so it's up to us as an audience to fill in the blanks. This is why I think there is so much debate in the fandom. Everyone fills in the blanks differently and to a different extent.

So for me, Kol was not a character that I was drawn to so I often didn't spend a lot of time thinking about his past outside of what we are explicitly told. From the show, we are explicitly told that he was a witch and he clearly still feels very attached to his witch side. We also know that when he turned he no longer was a witch.

What we don't know is how he was as a witch (I know he called himself a child prodigy, but I'd be curious to know how long he was practicing) or how exactly it impacted him to lose that side of him. Unlike Klaus who blamed everything on losing his werewolf side, we don't hear Kol explicitly say he became such a menace because of his loss of magic.

I don't think anyone would really argue that it didn't hurt him to lose that part of himself. But I personally don't think him becoming a heretic would have made him much more of a stable person. Even with Klaus, there were numerous reasons he became such a monster. Esther's lies, Ansel's death, Mikael's hate, losing Aurora, etc. on top of his werewolf side being suppressed. None of this justifies the things he does, but none of them can be said to be the direct or only reason he became what he was.

The same thing applies to Kol. It wasn't just losing his witch side, but also losing his home, losing his chance of being human, running from a murderous father, his mother's death. All of these things happened simultaneously and affected him. We also have zero idea of what kind of person Kol was as a human. He is in none of the human flashbacks. We know that he fled as soon as Mikael began to hunt them, destroying their village. He quickly reunited with his siblings and seemed to already enjoy killing very early in. I think at some point Kol said he enjoyed the "rush" being a witch gave him, so it seemed like he transferred that to killing as a vampire. But it could also just be that he loves adrenaline and would have still gravitated to that side of vampirism even with his magic still intact. Again, it's hard to say since we don't see him as a human.

But what we do see is how he is as a witch in TO. Now, I've said this in another post, TO Kol doesn't make a lot of sense to me compared to TVD and even the flashbacks. Sure, maybe it was just him having access to magic which made him better, but we can't forget that the first scene we have with him as a witch is him SAing a woman by using his magic to make her flash the entire street. Kol, as a witch in TO, likes to use his magic to have power over others, much like he used his vampirism. Again, it's hard to say if he was always like this or if this was as a result of him losing his magic initially.

To me, this is probably how I would imagine Kol as a heretic since this is the best evidence we see of him as a witch. Not necessarily any less violent than we saw him as a vampire. In my opinion, a lot of what caused Kol to behave the way he did was feeling excluded rather than losing his magic. While he often runs off and leaves his family, it always seemed that he caused chaos to get his siblings attention. We are told Kol is this intelligent person so I have to imagine he wasn't just acting dumb and attracting Mikael every time he was undaggered. But he knew it would get his brother's attention. This can make sense for the character since he was turned at like 17 years old. He behaved like a teenager attempting to get his older brothers to pay attention. Even when he knew their attention wouldn't be positive and often was being daggered.

I could see him being a heretic changing his dynamic with his siblings though. He would have been invaluable to them, especially in the early days when they were trying to survive. But again, he still likely would have been a violent and murderous person. It maybe could have been even worse if Kol and Klaus became closer than Elijah and Klaus.

They made Kol's violent and murderous nature a part of his personality, which is why I had a hard time believing that just meeting Davina changed him as a person. But again, I know a lot of people have complex headcanon backstories that show Kol was a completely different person and losing his magic sent him over the edge, which I am not saying is not possible. I just personally don't see it. When Abby lost her magic, she became depressed and lethargic. When Bonnie was cut off from her magic, she didn't become murderous. Kol losing his magic didn't change his personality, but it may have pushed him further into that side of himself than he normally would have. This combined with the heightened emotions of becoming a new vampire created the Kol we met.

I'm sorry I forgot to respond to this earlier, but thank you for the ask!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Various crps x reader who has leg pain

Except its hyper specific to the admin and the pain is caused by staying still for too long and it gets worse with stress (as most things do)- something something excruciating leg pain that seems far worse than simply "feeling cramped from sitting for a few hours" and hits you even when youre asleep and it SUCKS!! i hate it!! i genuinely dont know if this is normal or not and im just overreacting but it hurts so so much and i hate it because i get have to get up every hour-ish

Characters: slenderman, laughing jack, nina the killer

Notes: reader is GN, not written with any condition or anything in mind, based off of admins experiences and his experience does not reflect all, admin uses all pronouns for nina, short post

CWs: edit, possible talk of horrible pain but yeah

Slenderman

Offers to take you out for a walk to help unwind your legs

i WAS going to say he offers to carry you but that defeats the purpose of getting up to work that pain out

sometimes it persists for longer, he offer to massage your legs with his tentacles- soft but firm and theyre warm so great for soothing any pains in my opinion!

very firm when trying to get you to take a break, will not take no for an answer...

he WILL interfere with your electronics if thats what youre using- though its not often because sometimes it can make it fizzle out when youre in the middle of something and you didnt save or cant save

Laughing Jack

Good news! Hes all over the place and begging for your attention, so it's likely you'll be on your feet a lot already!

yoinking this from ninas part but i do think he offers to dance with you just to get you on your feet

will swoop right in the second he notices you constantly shifting your legs around in your seat or when you start tapping your foot

feel bad for taking yourself away from your work even though its to undo some of the pain developing in your legs? jacks going to make a scenario where you need to come and help him- there! guilt eradicated for now! it'll likely be something as simple as needing help finding something!

gives you candy to try to help make you feel better, always keeps your favorite on hand

Nina the Killer

Offers to go on walks with you as well but I can also just as likely see them asking you to dance with them as they turn on some music... they're tooooootally smooth about asking you yeah totally

as a side note you both definitely make a playlist together! you also both make playlists for each other!

a lot of the music is fast and hyper, but if you dont want to dance to keep up with the beat she lets you know its okay to dance to your own tune

really just does anything to help you get on your feet if youre confined to an area for too long, makes sure you take breaks if you need to sit and work on something

master of self care when it comes to others, not so much when it comes to herself

[fangbangerghoul]

OKAY I'M COMIN IN UNDER THE WIRE Sensory prompt: The coppery scent of blood in the air Emotion: Adrenaline - Is that an emotion? Amped? Object: Chair Lets go with Astarion and a character of your choice that you've been wanting to write!

For you?

I'll give you the best!

wc: 799 (cause i got carried away as usual)

Today is the last day I am accepting prompts for my 100 follower celebration! Please feel free to submit one!

            The dilapidated building was unsavory as they all sat in it for a short rest. Gale used to be able to count the number of deaths he caused on his fingers before he decided to travel with Tav. Now it seemed every day there was a new blood stain on his hands, his clothes, even his face. Tav was wrapping their leg from a battle wound and Astarion and Shadowheart seemed preoccupied with their own needs. He felt his calf burn with an intensity that was unexpected and the coppery scent washed over his as he lifted his robe to see the brutal gash in his leg. The adrenaline left in his veins was pounding in his temples and his breathing still didn’t feel quite right. His eyes were focused on the wound and he was debating if traditional methods of healing would be best or if he should succumb to a quick fix with magic. The pros and cons weren’t particularly swaying him in either direction and the weight his body felt from exhaustion he wondered how much longer he could let it freely bleed.

“What do we have here?” The cool and charming tone came from Astarion who had crept up to Gale as he sat in the only viable chair. He felt a dull pressure in his knees and opted to be selfish for once and take a seat before offering it to Tav. Astarion’s presence caused a bit of caution in Gale. He was entirely comfortable around the man but there was always something that made Gale extremely curious about the red eyed charmer.

“It is nothing.” Gale said abruptly, not wanting the half elf to see his weakness. Who knows what influence he really had on Tav. They were not to pressed when Astarion confessed to be the vampire spawn he was even though he obviously was going to fed on Tav without permission. Something Gale thought that was extremely rude and dubious.

“Ah, don’t be coy now.” Astarion had a toothy grin and he swayed a bit side to side. The vampire spawn always seemed big on body language. Gale caught the tiniest of flares from Astarion’s nostrils. He knew then Astarion smelt the blood and perhaps considered only coming over to sneak a bite. Maybe just to lick his leg? Gale wasn’t entirely sure but he now he knew for certainty to not let his guard down.

“Let me take a look.” Astarion said gently his hand body and hand starting to near Gale but Gale flinched for a moment and gave an astute glare. He had hoped the vampire would heed his warning but his smirk had only lessened a fraction. “What? I’m not going to drain you dry if that’s what you think. There are tastier things out there than you wizard.”

Gale’s felt his pride hurt for a moment and his glare softened into a more offended look. He knew it was silly of him to take offense to that and perhaps instead he should be feeling more of a relief from that statement.

“I didn’t say that you were.” Gale started as he tried to relax his body to allow Astarion to get closer. He did not want to make a scene because the others were busy resting themselves. “Who knew someone like you would have something against older gentlemen.”

“You shouldn’t put words into others mouth, Gale.” Astarion’s tone seemed full of an array of emotions from teasing, flirting, even threatening and a mix of disappointment. Gale was not sure what to say to his response but hissed when Astarion poked at his flesh wound.

“Don’t be a baby.” Astrarion’s voice was like a soft gruff and before Gale realized it the dazzling companion in front of him was stitching up his wound. The closeness between the two of them was more intimate than he would have preferred but he accepted his fate as he closed his eyes. The wizard was not trying to be too mindful of the pain and after a few seconds it had stopped. He felt Astarion’s cool fingers trace up his calf where the wound was and when Gale peeked Astarion’s eyes were looking right into his. The companion had his finger covered in Gale’s blood and it held just before his lips. Astarion dipped the finger into his own mouth and Gale could hear the light pop come from his lips and the sound of his tongue move around inside his mouth. Gale was about to say something in exasperation but the vampire just smiled and pulled out his finger. “Maybe I was wrong about their being tastier companions.” He said in a thoughtful tone. Gale looked dismayed as the vampire spawn stood and walked away as if nothing ever happened.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

All Clones Go To Heaven

Crosshair & Mayday

Summary: The aftermath of the avalanche on Barton IV from Mayday’s perspective. (written in third person limited)

Pairings: None

Characters: Crosshair, Mayday, Mayday's Squad

Tags & Warnings: angst, hurt, comfort, death, afterlife, may also cause uncontrollable crying, apologies in advance

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Notes: A companion piece to this post. I don’t know anything about the lore behind the Star Wars afterlife, so if you do, please no hate! It’s just fanfiction. As always, please enjoy 💚

It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s heavy. These and numerous other thoughts floated around Mayday’s mind as he laid motionless under the frigid snow. The pressure and weight of the icy precipitation crushed his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was fully engulfed in a tundra prison.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, just as he was taught in training as a cadet. Never panicking for even a moment. He flexed his muscles to move his arms and legs in an attempt to escape, but they wouldn’t budge. The weight and angles of the pressurized snow were too great to overcome. 

This is it. He resigned. I’m finally going to die here on this mountain, just like my squad. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming. He wrestled with his mind, trying to not think about death by suffocation, until his thoughts finally landed somewhere else. I hope that clone got out. I can’t have another one die on me.

It didn’t take much longer for his senses to begin fading away. The asphyxiation was taking its toll on him. He lingered in and out of consciousness, hoping at any moment that death would stop toying with him and just take him. Death was such a tease, and not the kind he liked. Much unlike his former men, who were chronic pranksters.  

However, as he lay there, nearing death’s edge and reminiscing the days when his squad was together, he heard a muffled sound coming from above. One by one, small fragments of light pierced through his snowy covering. Just as hope of a rescue brimmed from the surface, he passed out. 

Mayday started to crawl back into consciousness as he felt hands lifting his torso. He grunted as his lungs began to fill with oxygen once again. He felt a hard object behind his back and could hear someone speaking, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. His brain was still scrambled from lack of oxygen and the pain around his torso slowly increased.

“Come on,” Crosshair prompted as he attempted to lift the commander out of the snow. “We have to move.”

Mayday grunted again, this time from the pain of his crushed chest. Each breath was an excruciating endeavor as his lungs attempted to expand inside his broken ribcage. He knew he had no chance of surviving in his condition and all the pulling was not helping. 

Through forced breaths, he spoke to the young clone. “Go, I won’t make it.”

Not missing a beat, Crosshair put the Commander’s helmet on his head and shivered out a soft. “We don’t leave our own behind.” 

The old and worn helmet wasn’t much protection from the elements, but it was better than nothing. At the minimum, it kept the howling wind out of his ears and made his already labored breathing a bit easier. Nonetheless, the journey back to the outpost would be a perilous one and neither clone was promised survival.

Still moving in and out of consciousness, Mayday could feel his body being pulled out of the snow. The blunt movements were painful, but he didn’t have enough energy to fight the young clone’s efforts. He felt his left arm wrap around Crosshair’s shoulder as he was lifted to his feet. 

They moved along the mountainside slowly. The air was gusting and frigid, but his chest burned like fire. He knew he was critically injured, and most likely bleeding internally, but that didn’t stop the young clone from dragging him along through the deep snow. 

They stopped every so often to catch their breaths and reposition themselves, even though no position was comfortable. As they trudged along through the night, the wind began to howl and the snow stung like daggers against their prone bodies. A blizzard was coming and they needed to find shelter quickly. 

Crosshair led the limping pair to a small outcropping on the side of the mountain, with barely any protection from the storm. Mayday could feel the young clone’s body pressed tightly up against his, huddling them together as best he could while they waited it out. He could barely open his eyes, but he would never forget the fear on Crosshair’s face.  

Come morning light, the duo started again towards the outpost. This time Crosshair gave Mayday his sniper rifle as a walking stick. The make-shift crutch did help a little, but Mayday knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t making it out of this situation alive, even if they did make it back to the outpost.

They marched forward, both clones breathing ragged, half frost-bitten, and on the verge of death. As they crested the last hill, Mayday, through glazed vision, could see the outposts' platform. Maybe they were going to make it. Maybe they would survive this. Maybe they live to fight another day. 

“About time you two returned,” the Lieutenant sneered as the two ragged clones staggered forward and fell to the ground.

“He needs a medic,” Crosshair exasperated as he removed Mayday’s helmet.

Mayday coughed as the blood pooling in his chest crushed his lungs. It’s alright, son. He wanted to say to reassure the young clone. 

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates,” the lieutenant huffed in disappointment. “Which means you failed your mission.”

You mean we failed our suicide mission. Mayday jested to himself.

“Did you hear what I said?” Crosshair pleaded. “Help him!”

Once again, wishing to convey his thoughts to the young clone, but unable to, he let the words loose in his mind. It’s going to be okay, kid. Clones die all the time. I’ll be fine.

“Certainly not,” the lieutenant sneered. “That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

A resource. That’s all we are to them. Things. He wished he could muster the strength to convey his thoughts out loud, but his breath was gone. I hope you remember this, Crosshair. Don’t become a tool of the Empire like me. You’re worth more than that.

“You...,” Crosshair breathed out in desperation, “he’ll die.”

Mayday coughed again, more forceful than before. He could feel his life slipping away second by second. This was it. His breath was leaving his body one last time. Goodbye, kid. He thought one last time before drifting into death’s arms.

It was dark once more, but this time, it wasn't cold. No, this time was different. Mayday found himself standing alone in pitch black. He swiveled his head but couldn’t see anything. It was an endless void as he turned around in circles, trying to gather intel on his new surroundings. 

However, like any good soldier, he started marching forward. To where, he did not know. To find what, he was uncertain. But he knew he had to start moving. There was an internal compass somewhere deep inside his soul that guided his footsteps along an invisible pathway.

As he continued his journey through the darkness, he began to feel warm. It was an odd feeling and contrasted what he had known for the past year on Barton IV. Nevertheless, it was inviting, calming, and effortless. His body felt lighter and his skin began to tingle. He was being lulled.

Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed a presence ahead of him. His first instinct was to grab at his weapon, but there was nothing there. The shocking realization that he had nothing and was nothing set in. All his gear was gone and he was vulnerable. 

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the presence. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was definitely other-worldly and not something he had run into before. He cocked his head to the side and squinted at a tall figure outlined in a dull silvery light. He stepped closer to investigate.

“Welcome, Mayday,” the looming figure spoke with a booming voice.

The clone commander was taken aback as his hands started to tremble in front of the presence. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I am the Maker,” the tall figure answered as it bowed its head low to meet Mayday’s gaze.

“Is… Is this death?” Mayday asked with hesitation. He didn’t know how he knew to ask, but something inside him prompted it.

“Yes, it is,” the Maker answered.

“I see,” Mayday said as he brought a hand up to pull at his beard in thought. “Are… Are my men here?”

“Yes, they are,” the Maker answered again.

“Sir, can I see them?” Mayday asked with excitement and expectation in his voice.

“Perhaps,” the Maker answered. “It depends.”

“Depends on what, sir?” Mayday asked.

“On your judgment,” the Maker answered deeply.

“Judgment?” Mayday rhetorized in confusion.

“Yes,” the Maker continued. “All who pass through my domain must be judged. So tell me, Mayday, why should I let you pass on?”

The clone commander thought about what to say. It was a tough question and not one that any clone ever thought about in their lifetime. Clones were lab creations, made to be disposable. Did they deserve to live a happy afterlife as much as any other lifeform? 

“I didn’t do much to deserve much, sir,” Mayday began. He shook his head and sighed. “I was bred to kill and created to die. And I… I lost my entire squad. My brothers followed every order I gave them and died. Their deaths are on my shoulders. So, perhaps, I don’t deserve anything.”

The Maker shifted its fluid form into a pondering posture as it looked into the depths of the clone commander’s soul. “But were you a good soldier?” the Maker asked.

“I’d like to think so, sir,” Mayday answered semi-confidently.

The Maker straightened its posture and once again loomed its large silvery figure over Mayday’s tiny frame. Mayday took a few steps back, in awe of the enormity of the Maker’s presence.

“Commander Mayday,” the Maker’s voice boomed as the clone flinched. “A clone you were created, a life-form you are no less. You followed your orders and served your men well. They gladly laid down their lives under your command as each one spoke highly of your leadership.”

Mayday cracked a small sad smile. “They did?”

“Yes,” the Maker answered softly.

Mayday let out an anguished sigh. “They were good men. Some of the best.”

“As are you,” the Maker pointed out. The Maker paused and let silence fill the room as it peered further into the soul of the clone standing before it. “I will now pass my judgment upon you.”

Mayday straightened up at attention, ready and willing to accept whatever judgment the Maker had for him. All he hoped for was to be reunited with his men, wherever they were. Or if not, then at least be at peace knowing they were safe from any further harm.

“Mayday,” the Maker boomed. “I judge you as a good soldier. Loyal, brave, strong, and true. You did well in your short life and you earned the love and respect of many around you. I now grant you access to Paradise. Enter and join your brothers in peace.”

Mayday smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to see his men again. Before his thoughts could trail off any farther, a vertical light in the middle of the dark void showed forth. He put his hands up to shield his eyes at the brightness, as the light grew wide, like doors swinging open.

He slowly put his hands down and looked into the bright light. He hesitated for a moment, but the Maker prodded the clone to move forward. As Mayday came closer to the light, he could see a group of figures standing together, bathed in the golden light from where they stood. It was his squad.

Mayday ran forward, eager to greet his men that he missed so much. Tears brimming in his eyes. It really was the most glorious sight and all he could have ever asked for. It was them. All of them. They were there waiting for him, their leader. 

“Commander!” one of the clones yelled in excitement as they waved their hand in the air. “What took you so long?” The clone beamed with joy.

“You’re late!” another clone yelled. “Uh, I mean, you’re late sir!” The squad laughed.

“Thank goodness,” one of his men breathed out in a sigh of relief. “We were getting bored without you and these four idiots have been such a handful.”

“Come on in and join us!” another one of his men shouted in excitement. “Hexx and Veetch are already here and getting way too comfortable.”

“Aw, yes!” the last of his men cheered. “The squad is finally back together again!”

Mayday chuckled and without even trying to keep his composure, cried. His squad, his brothers, his family, were back together again. Finally, they were home. Mayday lunged forward and brought his entire squad into a big group hug, toppling them over like bowling pins. 

“Hey boys,” Mayday smiled and leaned into the embrace. Desperately clinging to each one as tight as he could. “Glad I could make it.”

As the group got up and walked back into the bright light of Paradise, each crying, laughing, and falling over the other, Mayday took one last look into the void and remembered a certain clone. I hope you find your squad too, Crosshair. Then, turning with a big smile, he followed his brothers into bliss.

Masterlist

A03

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[my-mt-heart]

I think I mentioned before that the love triangle is my least favorite trope. It just feels very YA to me, less mature, which definitely doesn’t fit a relationship like Daryl’s and Carol’s, nor their individual characters who are so careful with their hearts. Creating foils for them on the other hand has been very illuminating in some instances. 

Even though I don’t like Carol and Ezekiel together at all, I do like seeing Daryl’s jealous side. It’s not a typical jealousy because nothing about Daryl’s character is typical, but it causes him to turn inward and weigh his worth against Ezekiel’s. He knows he’s no king, he isn’t charming, he isn’t a leader, so in his mind, he can’t possibly be good enough for Carol. 

But we as an audience learn through the different interactions between all three characters that he could not be more wrong. Daryl understands Carol in ways Ezekiel never could, always putting her needs before his own, respecting her boundaries and her independence. He’s the one who has Carol’s heart, the one who immediately makes her smile when he gives her a gift, the one she’ll say “I love you” to. 

The “triangle” if you can really call it that, only takes a wrong turn for me in S11. Carol and Ezekiel do not need to get closure from each other ten times over. They don’t need a long shared arc with far more screentime than the relationship we’re actually invested in, and we don’t need the question of will they/won’t they [get back together] hanging over our heads so close to wrapping the series. Knowing how to use foils also means knowing when they’ve stopped being useful all together. 

The same can be said about Carol’s foils. On one hand, Daryl’s and Connie’s dynamic shows us how much Carol is struggling to love herself for who she is. She thinks she’s a bad person, unworthy of Daryl’s love, despite loving him so much she’s ready to sacrifice her own chance of happiness so he can be happy with someone she perceives as “good.” 

The romance she keeps pushing for never actually happens though, which in itself reminds us Daryl isn’t an alpha male. He can’t pursue every woman who happens to interact with him. He can’t test the waters with someone he likes or respects. He needs to fall in love first, he needs time, he needs depth, he needs Carol. And that’s all really sweet, but the longer the “Connie” arc drags out, the more superficial it becomes, accomplishing nothing for any of the characters and leaving every viewer unhappy. 

Speaking of which, adding Leah to that mix is probably one of TWD’s most controversial writing decisions that everyone (rightfully) resents. It didn’t have to end on such a bitter note though. Unlike killing off Glenn and Carl, which there is absolutely no walking back from, risking Daryl’s character integrity for a random relationship could have at least been the catalyst for Daryl and Carol to finally go canon. The set up is there. We get the parallels between Carol and Leah to tell us who Daryl really chooses and why, but it ultimately goes nowhere. Carol and Leah don’t even get to interact. [Insert long, angry rant about that here]. 

I’m not looking for a do-over on any of these arcs or for any new ship to take their place (for the love of god, stop with the ship baiting). The more love interests Daryl and Carol garner, the less they feel like themselves and we’re already teetering on the brink of unrecognizable with this ridiculous France premise. But, if there’s more to come for Caryl, some acknowledgement would be good. It only takes a few lines of dialogue to explain to the characters and to the audience why Carol didn’t return Zeke’s feelings, why it wasn’t like that with Connie, why Daryl really got together with Leah. And if handled with care, it could be very impactful 

[m0tel6mxzzy]

monet de haan; an essay if u will

the way monet could admit to attempted murder and i just could not hate her character. she does terrible things to others but it often comes from a place of feeling like she has to control situations with others to be deserving of their love and attention.

she reminds me so much of blair as i do an og gg rewatch, specifically that one episode in s2 where blair and chuck are making a bet on vanessa and blair chooses to hurt vanessa directly by revealing it rather than admit she liked chuck, and still takes every opportunity afterwards to deny her feelings, making having hurt vanessa the moment she seemed to win over chuck worthless.

blair will disregard jenny the way monet will disregard zoya and they will continue to make the same mistakes, and no matter how malicious they act, the constant plotting and scheming is all they know. “it gives them a sense of purpose,” monet says, but really it also gives monet purpose to rule over others and for once feel like she has the upper hand in a world that otherwise reminds her that due to her race and sexuality, she’s never really fully a part of it.

the same way monet does not need to scheme to get people to love her, but just like blair they both have inattentive, emotionally unavailable mothers they feel pressured to succeed to win the attention of. if they can’t have the motherly heart of the person who equates wealth and emotional distance with unconditional love, why not get that from people who so easily worship them? they have endless reminders that their mothers are the cause of the luxury they get to float in and reap the social benefits of, but also their burden with the high expectations it comes with.

monet would rather make two younger students follow her around and do her bidding, giving her endless “yes” answers than luna, who does accept her and know her behavior by now, have her bring her to reality and remind her of how her mother makes her feel. it’s very lonely at the top, and it doesn’t feel good for monet to “win” if it’s not luna she’s doing it with, power be damned. so it takes a little vulnerability for her be forced to no longer hide behind her minions and have a 1 on 1 personal talk with luna.

luna reminds monet of the person monet currently is that her mother resents, so she wants to detach from that so she doesn’t have to feel just how hard her mother’s words have hit her, making her delve further into status and popularity no matter how taxing.

with julien, jules reminds her of who her mother wants her to be but monet just cannot fulfill and make her proud with, as julien now wants to clean up her image and go to college. monet lets her guard down around her mother, she really does love her but is so unused to the idea that the way she is spoken to is not normal.

so it especially hurts when she finds out that girl she was interested in was faking being a lesbian for clout when no matter her wealth, that there’s always going to be people in her rich lifestyle that disregard her for being a lesbian. including her own mother, who uses that as an excuse to justify her father’s affair which had been hidden from monet.

and that it is clear monet wants to be loved and is aware she has done awful things to others. and that her mother, the moment monet found out abt her parents mistress, was basically told “i’m the reason you even get to be an out and proud black lesbian so therefore it’s ok for me to hide an entire marital relationship your father is having with another woman from you.”

i’m so sorry to go off on what is an unorganized tangent, at the same time gg is not the same w/o blair, ggrb is not the same w/o monet. there would be very little conflict without them.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Regarding your "Ask the writer"!

I'm a very curious individual, therefore I carefully selected a few off the questions list! To make it more organized I chose #34, 35, 36, 48 and 74 - I apologize if we're only allowed to choose one! IF so, feel free to select whichever one you'd want to answer :)

I also wanted to ask a new question!

As a floating writer myself, I struggle sometimes when I story write certain characters such as Jax Teller, Dean Winchester for example only because I'm so invested into the show, so invested into these guys that writing them in stories can physically make my heart hurt. I don't know how to explain it, but I wondered if you experience the same thing? I know we both share a love for Jax (go best friend💕 ) does writing him in any scenario- In danger, or in pain, or loosing his best friend or leaving the love of his life etc hurt you on the inside? Sorry for the long one but IM SO interested in your response! Eek!

34. How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

Other than chronic pain, zero. I would say I write the characters to have to same intellectual interests as me just because I find it easy to add background and character shading when I do that. 35. What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

I don't have one. To be perfectly honest, I don't think my writing is anywhere near as good as anyone else's. I've done my best to like what I write, having a favourite will take a bit longer. 36. What fic are you proudest of?

The Reaper and the Death Angel I made a whole new universe, it's 60 chapters and I've basically made most characters their own. I'm not proud because I think it's good, I'm proud because of the work that's gone into it.

48.Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

I don't really have one, it's just who takes my fancy that day.

74. Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

All of them, I've only started to like my writing in the last few weeks. With everything I write, I love it when I'm writing it, hate it the moment it's out then grow to like it as time goes on and I get feedback. I always feel they are silly an unrealistic (most of them are) the plot armour is crazy and the OC/Reader always has all the answers.

As for your extra question;

I do experience the same thing, it's why I write fanfiction. I chose never to put my chapter in situations where there is unresolved pain, they live in my world and in that world, everything turns out alright. It does cause me pain so I don't write it and I'd tell anyone that it's your work, it's what you want and if you want everything to be all sunshine and roses, every situation, no matter how dire, can have a happy ending. If you don't want to put them through anything, don't you do this for free so you can do what you want.

Canon is a motherfucker and it can't sit with us.

Thank you for the asks!!!