#but it just is not the biggest problem here.

[nachiah]

I will add more to this! Even if there's no change or development to that character, you, as the reader, don't have to like it. Hell, you don't even have to read it. There seems to be such a problem these days with "Live And Let Live," especially online. Not everything is for you, and not everything is about you. It's okay to just skip over things you see that you don't like. You don't need to police peoples' fun. Some people write to vent their frustrations or get their feelings out, some write to put themselves in a better world or situation as a way to cope, and some write for fun. Some do two. Some do all of the above! Expression is important. And for those that write their OCs and such. It's a bit of a bummer when those fics don't get much traction, but in those few that do interact with it: - You might be inspiring someone else to write about their own OCs - You might be reaching someone with a similar interest or situation - You might make some new friends in those interactions - You might remind someone of a fandom they used to like, and now they might come back to it, even if for nostalgia. - You might inspire someone to yap about their own OCs Here's my biggest take out of all of this: I would much rather have a feed full of cringe than a feed full of soulless, AI-generated crap. Take it from someone who has gone through the whole process, and has now (at 36) embraced her do-not-give-a-single-fuck era. It takes a little bravery, and there will be times of disappointment of not being acknowledged as much as you like, but at the end of the day, you'll still have contributed more to the creative world as a whole than some machine ever could. Be proud of that.

I am actually so serious I think it really messes with a childs creativity and joy to tell them to never make a mary sue OC. Like that unbridaled form of joy where you make a self insert OC who super cool and everyone loves them and they have every superpower in the world SHOULD be something a kid makes, it nourishes their ability to create things for fun and not be stifled by "oh but what if my character is too overpowered and cringey...". whatever

[raytoebiter]

xv. young blood spills tonight (written work)

It's a really, really beautiful fucking day. That's no doubt. Like, at all.

Why's that, you ask?

Well, simply because the endless sea above you is winking at the little organisms with their clear blue skies devoid of the usual cotton white. Then, there’s also the breeze that has been blessing (bugging) everyone's asses by flipping skirts and sending papers flying.

And well, yeah, those are the usual signs that your day is going to go well.

The biggest catch, whatsoever?

Shitty Asshole (Scaramouche) finally decided to stop acting like there was a permanent stick up his ass with every interaction he had with you.

Or in simpler terms, he stopped bothering you.

And hey, going by your definition, it really means that he hasn't called you names nor did he prolong a conversation by unabashedly acting like a fuckboy to grind your gears.

And, well. That? That's really fucking strange.

Some people (Hu tao) may suggest going to the person, and asking, “hey, are you okay?” considering that the asshole looks like he got hired by a shitty animation studio and was overworked during the weekdays, but considering how much he irritates you on a normal day?

You would dare say; hell, no. You don't have any damn plans in crossing the lines of rivalry just to reignite the spark of hatred that's holding your relationship with him. You also don't got any damn clue if he stopped simply because he felt guilty for pushing you down (which, going by your interactions with him on Monday, doesn't seem to be the case at all) nor if he stopped because his ginger friend is finally shooting his shot (which also doesn't seem to be the case since it's unreasonable as hell).

Either way, you'd rather enjoy this blissful predicament rather than finding the catalyst behind it.

(You completely, and resolutely ignore the gnawing itchy bitch inside of you that keeps moaning about the fact that you haven't had a proper argument with the Asshole since Monday.)

And besides, it's not like it's any of your business to pry on his personal problems, right?

So yeah, the angel on your shoulder (that annoyingly sounds a lot like Hu tao) can fuck off, and the beautiful day you spoke of can continue on without any grape-hair bothering you.

A giggle left your lips, the sound utterly high. If you were in the right state of mind, you would've been nauseated with how you're acting.

But.. right now? You’re quite literally bouncing off from, holy shit, I'm gonna go on a date with Childe—to—Oh my god, what am I even gonna wear!?—to—He’s such a flirt, god, he's so attractive–

—and then, finally—wait, hold on, I need to fulfill that damn request, fuck!

With that, disgust burns your esophagus and you're instantly upset, because fucking hell. You have to hang out with the guy that's been avoiding you for.. what? A fucking week? Just ‘cause of some shitty obscure reason?

Like, seriously, come on. Pushing you off the stairs is nothing but a damn stepping stone for your hatred to go onward, right? It's really nothing, so why the fuck is he doing this cold-shoulder thing?

You scoff as you turn on your phone, opening the contacts app, then scrolling until you see the infamous, “the insufferable asshole whom i shall not dare interact”.

God, the nickname was such a great idea.

The conversation that lit against your face brings some sort of annoying churning in your stomach, and you scowl at the feeling. Don't tell me I'm feeling sentimental about this shit.

Then, as you shudder from the prick needles poking at your skin, you instantly chuck the thought to the murkiest depths of your mind; hoping to never be seen again because, holy fuck.

Deeply sighing, you clicked on the call button, index finger lightly tapping and making circles on the counter as you pressed the phone to your ear.

The phone luckily rings until it makes a familiar clicking sound.

“What—”

“Shut up, where are yo—actually, no, scratch that. Come here early, like right now, ASAP.”

A notable silence on the other line. You briefly wonder if you should've let him finish, but then again, any pleasant business the other had could fucking wait.

“Yeah, no. I'm on my way to the entrance road, dipshit,” the other bit out after a moment. There's light sweeps of air in the background, and a fleeting thought occurs to you that the Asshole might be walking considering the lack of engine noise.

You cross your legs, squinting at the door because wasn't the entrance road atleast 3 miles away from the café? isn't that so far?

“...Don’t tell me the Grand Scaramouche is actually walking? Whatever happened to your Porsche, hm?”

Scaramouche simply chuckled, the sound reverberating through your spine, sending shudders along the way. You end up reaching for the blanket that, fuck, was currently perched on a damn desk chair a feet away from you.

For a few seconds, the words simply hung in the air.

You have half a mind to ask what the fuck was up with him, only to absolutely shrug it off as you finally snatch the blanket, fabric warm and just so fucking perfect, goddamnit.

It's then the Asshole finally makes a noise and—

“Well, might as well enjoy the shitty scenery before I quit, right?

Your entire world stops. Not in the sense like those shitty romantic scenes, of course, but in the sense that you just discovered something so fucking shocking that your world quite literally stops functioning for a second.

Because, seriously, what the ever-loving fuck?

Don't tell me I fucking did something wrong? I didn't even do anything. Like, shit. But didn't we just have a talk in monday? didn't we, like err, fucking.. glare at each other in wednesday? What the fuck is up with this guy? Is he jealous? Wait no, that's not really reasonable. Is it Childe? Is he avoiding me because Childe told him to just so he could shoot his shot? Wait, maybe it was the push—no, fuck, wait. What was all that talk about, ‘wanting to stay here a little bit fucking longer, then—

A snort. A really, ugly and mocking snort, “you do realize you've been muttering all that like a stupid ass ESPN commentator, right?”

And right now, as tempting as the idea of screaming, “what the fuck do you mean!? what was all that beating for then!?” to him really is: you, a beloved fuckin’ saint, instead, made the very difficult and extremely mature decision to not push your luck.

And that is to hang the fuck up, LMAO.

Might be an overreaction considering that you once chanted a whole ass pseudo-manifestation on Scaramouche quitting for some inexplicable reason but..

..It's an embarrassment to your dignity to admit—but, fuck it, anyway.

You'd rather take a barrel of a sailor’s vocabulary ebbing out of his mouth rather than this odd silent treatment he's been doing with you.

It's not that you missed him or anything—god, no—it’s just.. really anticlimactic considering that the only connection the two of you have is your rivalry with him; with all the shitty remarks he makes, the brawls you have with him, and the constant bickerings that happens on a daily basis now that you were coworkers.

At some point, you've always kept the notion of having a relationship more than just hatred in the damn Pandora’s box, simply because you couldn't really fathom something stable and promising with him, especially with the Asshole’s personality being equivalent to having a fire up your buttcrack.

Not only that, there's no fucking way that asshole is getting away after pushing you off down the stairs (1), doing a whole pep-talk about wanting to stay in the café longer (2), offhandedly showing up to the first day with his goddamn porsche whom you haven't seen in a few days now and you miss it so bad (3), get into a brawl only to have your beloved grandmother see it and force the two of you into a 30-minute lecture on why fighting brings bad benefits (4), and be one of the sole witnesses of you having a panic attack (5) only to fucking leave?

Well, atleast he's got the fucking balls.

Feeling the rush of adrenaline, you pocketed your phone, the initial plan of changing out of your clothes completely and utterly forgotten as you hurriedly scurried to put on your shoes and bursted out of the room.

Your grandmother furrowed her brow at the sight and sound of the door slamming against the wall, “dear? where are you headed to? why are you still in your clothes?”

You grabbed your necessities (phone, check, money, check, food.. nah, scratch that), and sent a reluctant glance at your confused grandmother, “can I take the shift off today? I.. need to catch up with a friend super, duper quickly and apparently the ass—ass.. something is leaving today. And they didn't even tell me about it so—”

“Alright, alright,” Your grandmother gently interjected, attention now fixated on whatever was on the counter, “you ought to tell me these earlier though, okay? I'll call Xiao to help out.”

A groan left your lips, hand already twisting the knob as you turned one last time, “tell him to not act like a stuck-up dick though!”

And distantly, “make sure to bring an umbrella!” along with the cracked laughter resonating in the air as you took off.

–

The wind howled through the trees, sending chills up your spine. Your grandmother was fucking right. You should've bought a damn umbrella.

You rubbed at your arms, slowly contemplating whether to go back to the café and just endure the agonizing back pain for a couple of days, or wait in the goddamn bus stop since most likely, the Asshole will probably go through there.

The latter is so, so fucking tempting, especially with how there's light rain dotting the pavement now—

Wait, light rain?

Panic strikes, you cautiously and hesitantly glanced up at the sky, as if it was some blood-curdling demon drooling at the sight of a frightened prey. Fuck, you should've known it was going to fucking rain cats and dogs the moment you saw the skies being abundantly clear as fuck.

And, holy shit. The café is atleast a mile away and the bus stop is still at least 3 blocks down, fuck wait, what do I do!? Should I call the Asshole? Surely, he brought a fucking umbrella, right? Hold on, shit. Fuck this motherfucking—

Just as you’re about to curse the entire fucking mother nature bloodline, the featherlight droplets tapping onto your shoulders turns into something much, much more overwhelmingly heavier, soaking your head then your clothes.

A fleeting thought of jumping off the river near the café crosses your mind, but you immediately shrug it off.

Eventually, an exasperated groan left your lips, gaze now facing forward as you stared at the foggy mist that now started to descend on your way. Your back still aching even after a few days doesn't help, and the heavy rain patting your clothes, gradually soaking it certainly doesn't fucking help either.

God, a sick leave on Monday doesn't really sound like a happy-go-lucky choice, doesn't it? Sighing, you reach for your skirt pockets, rummaging through until you find the familiar device.

Immediately just as you take it out, it gets drenched.

Am I really going stupid?

You annoyingly frowned, slightly lowering your body to cover it from the rain as you frantically pressed the power button and—

Fucking voila! It's fucking dead! The bright 0% winking at you like a delicious fucking meal on the table!

For several fucking seconds, you frigidly stood there, hand loosely clutched around the jackshit motherfucking device, with your nervous system going haywire, and the absolute urge to snap your spine in half coursing through your body like blood flow.

Oh, and there's also the impending chill down there that holy fuck, you're going to get sick.

What a fuck-up day this is. All because of that damn Ass—

Okay, that's too unreasonable. You did choose this, after all.

Still. You shouldn't have fucking gone out. Hell, you should've listened to your grandmother.

A crackle above snaps you out of your thoughts, all suddenly aware of the fabric clinging to your skin with the coldest motherfucking sensation, and you shudder, pocketing your phone.

Right. Shelter.

–

After squeaky shoes, near-death instances (one of which being almost tripping over a damn dead toad in the middle of the street), and the occasional middle fingers from Mother Nature, you finally reached the bus stop. And as per usual, it's devoid of the crowd that used to piss you off when you were a kid.

Muscle movement from all over the years has you reaching out to the bench and lightly dusting it, only to realize what you were doing, deadpanned, then reluctantly sat at the wet bench. An embarrassing squeak of your shoes bringing heat to your cheeks.

Years ago, these roads, now looking as if they've been deserted, used to be the lone passageway to Qingce Village. A small, remote town near the Inazuma borders. However, because there were a shit ton of animals running around bare-assed (take the shitty toad as an example), the officials or whatever had to force the roads to shut down.

Now, it's officially been recognized as a restricted area.

Well, not really. Considering that some kids can still do shitty hide n’ seek once in a while, but it's often discouraged.

Well, fuck the discouragement, you can do whatever you want. Besides, it's not like the Liyue Qixing actually gives two fucks about it, especially now that Qingce village looks more like an abandoned town rather than an actual village.

Though, some tourists and occasional students seem to like the idea of abandoned places, so they’re often seen in the area doing whatever.

Your eye twitches when a drop falls just right in front of your nose, thoughts immediately halted. Fuck, should you really wait here for Scaramouche to show up? The biting cold fabric against your skin is really, really not comfortable. But in some way, it does kind of help with your back ache, so there's some benefits to that.

A shiver. Then, a sneeze.

Man.

You're so dead the moment you come back. You don't even know what time it is for fuck’s sake! But guessing from the time you left and the time you walked to get here, it must be around 4:35PM already. The rain is still moderately heavy, and the shitty roof, that's basically worn out rust, has holes in it, so it barely just does the job right.

The faint pattering of the rain against your shoulder feels soothing in some way, and the slight fog seems to disperse from all that shitty walk so now, the area is a bit visible.

And man, what a fucking calming shitshow. You ought to thank Scaramouche for this.

Wait, hold on, speaking of Scaramouche, hasn't it been at least an hour since you called him? And 3 miles is atleast..

You nervously chuckle, no way, right?

No way he reached the café while you were out here, shivering and dying from the rain, right?

It's been an hour. A full fucking hour!

No way. Yeah, nope. Nope. Nope, no, fucking nope.

There's just no way. You’ll see him in the street, wave him over, reprimand him until he stays, then force him to hang out to fulfill the request.

Yeah. Definitely.

And, anyway. What the hell was the Asshole up to? Out of nowhere, he just wants to.. quit?? What is up with that? You certainly know it's not about the environment, or anything. So, what the fuck was it? Not only that, he seemed casual about the ‘pushing’ incident too, so, really, what the fuck is he really up to—

A hand. A shadow of a hand creepily loomed over your form, creating a shadow just below your toes, and you jolted, heart suddenly skipping a few beats as you hastily turn around and holy shit—

“Scaramouche!?”

He carefully surveys you, the seconds feeling like an eternity as his hand idly floated mid-air, before he leered in disgust, “god, you look so fucking horrible right now.”

A dull ache throbbed in your temple, already feeling the Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine settling in the hypothalamus of your brain, “yeah, no shit. I look terrible, and ugly. Ever wondered why that is?”

Right now, the Asshole is clutching a beautiful, useful umbrella and there's a plastic bag hanging off of his forearm. A droplet falls right on top of your head, kindly reminding you once again of the beautiful, useful umbrella in his hold.

“Are you going to stop looking at my umbrella, or what? I'll share with you, don't worry.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “you didn't bring an extra one?”

He rolled his eyes, turning to the side, then to you, “are you stupid? your granny chased me out of the café to ‘find’ you. what idiot even goes out in a weather like this?”

His head tilts slightly upward in gesture, while you spiralled down in the fact that, fuck yeah, I was right. He really did reach the café first.

“Well?”

“Got bored,” you easily lied, shrugging your shoulders for the extra effect, “I didn't think it'd rain this.. hard.”

“So, you really are stupid.”

"Shut up! I just got bored, okay?"

“Well, blah blah, anyway. Let's go back to the shitty café,” he turned sideways, reckoning you over with his head like you were some shitty dog.

It only struck you as your eyes drifted to his in pensiveness that—this was the first conversation you've ever had with him since Monday. And, he was going to leave. Just like that.

And, god. You've gone two years. Two years without talking to him except the occasional blistering arguments on social media that still pissed you off to this day. Hell, you even went on four days without having a proper conversation albeit the fact that you saw him everyday in that.

You've managed just fine. Felt no difference. Felt nothing.

But.. fuck?

Why does it feel different when he's talking to you, then?

Why the fucking motherfuck does your heart feel the fucking need to feel fucking restless to the fucking point of fucking beating so fucking loudly?

You suddenly, and viciously regretted locking gazes with him, considering how there was now a huge ass stretch in silence as you two stared each other down; the gaze neither intense nor did it ebb hatred.

Though, the way his eyes settled over to yours do feel like he's stripping you down from your skin to your heart, and oh fuck, don't tell me he can hear my heartbeat? holy fuck, this is embarrassing, what the fuck do I do? why is he staring at me like that? don't tell me I have a leaf over my head?? wait, hold on. should I break the stare or what? this is so fucking embarrassing—

An amused sound between a snort and a laugh. Presumably an involuntary one as he covers his mouth in reciprocated shock.

“What's so funny?”

An slight smirk creeps at his face “you're such a mumbler.”

A frown, “that's not even a word—”

“Are we going back to the café, or are you going to keep standing there like an idiot who just got dumped? Because you really look like you got stood up by a piece of shit right now.”

Okay. Calm. One, two, three..

You tried not to let the indignance take over your face as you held up a pseudo smile in agreement. Scaramouche eyed you for a moment, and then sighed before turning around.

There goes my plan in taking him to hang out. Maybe I'll ask him after school tomorr—

Wait. Hold on.

“Wait, uh. Do you—”

His feet halted, just right in the center of your vision and only then did you realize you were looking down like an idiot. God, this is so embarrassing.

You hesitantly looked up, confidently glared at him square in the eye (since glaring has always been your forte with him) and blurted, “hang out with me. like, right now.”

Silence. You can already feel the regret creeping in when all he does is fucking watch, and watch with those shitty fucking ass purple motherfucking eyes with the imperceptible fucking glint shining in them and—

“What on the fucking earth,” his expression was flat, but he did have that aghast-amused tilt to his eyebrows.

That's how you knew it was a success. All doubt and humility instantly drained out of you as you grinned, the mean and confident one that you knew made your features look devilish, “what? it's gonna be your last shift anyway, and I had to take a shift off—don’t give me that look and don't ask why—so, why not just hang out with me? I'm sure grandma would let you off.”

“O..kay?” he drawled in incredulity, a brow curiously quirking up as he turned to you fully, “so, what the fuck are we doing today, Dora the Explorer?”

“Uh, we could—erm,” you tried. you failed, “I don't know! I haven't thought that far!”

“Okay, jack-ass. We're going back to the café—”

“No!”

“And drink some shitty warm water—”

“Nope!”

“And—”

Before he could fucking finish because it really was starting to piss you off, you tore the beautiful, useful umbrella from his hold, stumbling him forward as you slowly took a step back.

You watched the realization slash amusement crawl over his pale features, twisting it up to a scowl, “give it back.”

A blink, then an idea came to you along with an impish grin, “well.. you'd just have to get it from me, then.”

And with that, you took off.

Scaramouche gaped at you, looking absolutely debauched as he realized what you were the fuck up to. And at that moment, you smiled.

You give it at least three counts.

One… his head swerves left and right.

Two… his gaze locked onto you.

Three… then, he made a break for it.

A wet ass road isn't really a good place to run a marathon in along with the (still) heavy rain blurring your vision as you dashed to who-the-fuck knows where, but right now?

As the cold nips against your skin like some sort of fucking leech and the Asshole few meters away from behind you chasing like a madman..

It feels like a whole otherworldly experience.

You'd never imagined running in the rain, soaked and absolutely feeling the impending doom already, with your rival, out of all people.

–

“You're a real fucking idiot, you know that, right?”

Okay. Maybe you are a fucking idiot by, what? Running into the rain with what you presume was one of the best experiences you've ever had but had the shittiest fucking consequences? Yeah.

Presently, the two of you are fortunately situated on a cliff with a bench. Totally I-Know-a-Spot vibes with an abandoned ass gasoline station just right off the side. Though, how did the two of you manage that? Well, your dumbass decided to run off the forest and somehow managed to end up here.

At some point during your whole life living in these parts, you've always seen the cliff in your peripherals but never had actually gone through the effort of going to it. So, yeah more or less, it's really your first time being here and, holy fuck is it divine.

The sun kissed the area with gold, blessing the two of you with the warmth it gives. The scenery is really the fucking catch though; with the sun infront of you, half of the village seen just below, café being literally quite just under the cliff and whatnot.

Oh, and yeah. The rain stopped mid-way as the two of you ran, so right now, you're currently dying with the left-over chill.

A shiver runs through your body, and you breathed out a sigh, “you enjoyed it, anyway. you can't really complain, you know?”

He glares at you, awfully looking like a stray hissing after being dumped with water, “fuck, no. I almost tripped twice. Heard that? Fucking twice, [Name]. That was not fun.”

As if he didn't stifle a laugh when you accidentally dropped the umbrella, “yeah, sure, Mr. Nonchalant. Also, I stepped on a dead toad on the way here, so.. again. you can't complain, I've had it worse.”

A roll of his eyes, and god, one more roll and I swear to the universe, I'm gonna make that permanent, “okay, piss grenade.”

“Piss—excuse me, what?”

“You know, explosive and lethal piss? Stuck in a grenade, and when you throw it, it becomes a piss shower?”

Silence.

“Yeah,” a scowl formed on your face as you conjured an image, “that's not really..”

He narrowed his eyes, “don't kinkshame me.”

“What—”

“So, when is the hang-out actually gonna start?” you can see the shiver creepily crawling over his body, and he tensed like a cat.

Ha, cat. Cat…

You awkwardly cleared your throat, murmuring, “I don't know.. actually. Wanna—uh. Wanna stay here and like, I don't know, watch the shitty sunset, or something?”

And again, his face comically deadpans. You can probably see the iconic SFX behind the background as he watches you with keen, fucking purple eyes.

“Is this really the same [Name] [Last Name] that told me to fuck myself on Monday?”

A snort escapes your lips as you nudge him by the ribs, “haha, very funny. Yes, I am, you asshole. God, you really do have a derogatory kink, don't you?”

His eyes glint in mischief, voice raising a playful lint, “oh, yeah? don't tell me you have a praise kink? Come on, don't get turned off, I'll praise you just fine.”

Your jaw gapes, like absolutely gapes and drops, before dramatically scooting further away from him, “yeah, no. I'd rather eat my own hand than have you praise me like that ever. Please stop the harassment.”

“Sure, fruitcake. And we're soaking up the entire bench, and it feels so fucking disgusting. When are we gonna get back?”

Oh. That's right.

“Are you…” you gulp, heart fucking doing somersaults, “are you actually going to resign?”

And at that—a glimmer in his eyes caught your attention as he turned to you; a permission to open up, to spill whatever bullshit he wanted, and you? Well, who are you to refuse?

“No,” he answers, “well, after today and that shitty run, I decided to shove the middle finger to my mom and maybe ask to postpone the offer.”

A hum left your lips, swaying your feet back and forth, “what’s the offer about anyway?”

“A modeling offer. I was given a chance to undergo some sort-of fuckin’ teaching class about modelling—which, I don't fucking want, by the fucking way. But. Ugh, my mom forced me. After that, I'll probably inherit her company or some shit.”

That doesn't really..

As if reading your mind, he continues, clutching the edge of the bench a little tighter, “and the reason why I don't want to take it is because it completely fucks up my schedule; after-school hours? fucked, cowgirl style. weekends? fucked, missionary style. Hell, even holidays? fucked, mating press style.”

He sharply chuckled as you gaped at him, and you mumbled, “your mom is too..”

“Selfish? Annoying? Fucking overbearing? Yeah,” he interrupted with a scoff, the sound laced with so much bitterness, “and anyway, I think I'll postpone it until I'm done with Senior High School. I have plenty of reasons anyway.”

You slowly blinked, still trying to process how.. weirdly dictatorial his mom was. You don't really give a fuck in that part of the industry, considering that you're way too focused on school to actually give a fuck about anything else other than being a barista (and speaking of school, fuck, you still had that physics assignment that's due by 11:59PM).

And, anyway. Holy fuck, you're absolutely going to have a hard time processing the fact that you just had your first ever official uninterrupted emotional conversation with Scaramouche. Or anything that involved non-rivalry things at all. The others are definitely going to have a field day with this and, ugghhh, you can already feel the undeniable burn in your eyes and the sting in your throat—

“Okay, thanks for listening,” he states dryly, eye-judging you as a droplet from his hair falls, “so awesome of you to go on a mumbling tirade while I was pouring my whole shitty sou—”

“Shut up, you asshole! Jeez, my grandma’s gonna kill me after this. I left without saying anything, I didn't even bring the umbrella she gave me! All because I chose to hang out with you, ugh."

“Aww, scared I'd be out of your sight, fruitcake? you must love me that much, huh.”

“No,” you bluntly say, “absolutely fucking not. Gross, by the way. I was just worried about you since we stopped talking for a week, and now you're dipping? no way, you're still my rival and I'm not letting you go until I see you in second place in the final rankings.”

He raised a brow, “we could still be—”

“Shut it.”

“..Okay, you sap.”

“Gross.”

And for the first fucking time ever, a comfortable silence settles in and goddamn, you missed the sunset. Slowly though as you watched from above, the blue-ish fog dissipated from the sky, leaving an endless sea of ink with dotted white.

And of course, as usual, the Asshole opens his gasbag mouth with his gaze transfixed on the skies above, “I really don't like stars.”

Just as you're about to retort, or atleast shove him to the sides and tease him, he continues, eyes still fixed to the sky but this time with a frown, “it looks so unreal, sometimes. Like, what the fuck do you mean those are just huge balls of hot gases winking at us like we're some useless specimen? I'm not useless, goddamnit.”

You blinked slowly, then levelled the Asshole with such a deadpanned look, “are you really saying that.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Of course, it would involve your ego. Of course. At this point, it's probably as big as the whole space.”

Scaramouche smugly smirked, “Yeah, ‘cause the fucking space is as big as my dic—”

“—Well, how else do you spend your time than just.. sit and not contemplate about life then?"

“..I don't fucken know? I don't spend my time looking at shit like this and going, “oh! I'm gonna think about my life and how utterly depressing it is!” like most people do. I just do whatever shit that is worth my time.”

You gave him a blank look, “so pessimistic. You must be so fun at parties. And, hey, we don't just immediately start thinking about life and all that. Sometimes, we just, you know, come here to relax.”

“If we're talking about that, then I’d rather look at city lights from above.”

A shrug, “guess that's more like you.”

He scoffed with a smirk, “makes me feel like I'm the star looking down in all those shitty specimens.”

“Ooh,” you cooed absentmindedly, “okay, city-boy.”

That familiar scowl settled in and you jolted, not expecting the nickname to hit a nerve, “oh, fuck off!”

A blink. Then, another blink before the drawl of the nickname left your lips with a higher lint, “city-boy!”

“One more and I swear—”

“City-boy!”

“Fuck—”

“City-boy likes to look at species below and—”

“Fuck the fucking hell off, you fucking mumbling gnome!”

You two didn't share a laugh that night, but you did continue the relentless teasing until, until he had to forcefully drag you down all the way back to the café at Eight-Something in the Post Meridian hours.

Needless to say, the lecture that came after was as warm and soothing as chocolate milk with cookies, after a whole evening of teetering between just outrightly dying of hypothermia, or having to go on because life still wants you in its grasp.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - into the night by benny mardones

• notes - i've been planning to use this exact song for this chapter for MONTHS like i swear it was one of the first ideas that came to me when i first started the drafr outline for this smau LIKE UGHHH

• "i'd take you into the night," [name] taking scara to the cliff

• "and show you a love like you've never, ever seen," [name] and scara hanging out there and talking about life and silly shit hajdnsjn

• "it's like having a dream," cue "You'd never imagined running in the rain, soaked and absolutely feeling the impending doom already, with your rival, out of all people." HELLO??? I COOKED CHAT I FUCKING COOKED

so yeah that shit above was what i wrote in the draft LMAO

authors' notes - hey freaks guess who's back😝 supposedly, i was gonna post this like two days ago but then BUT THEN a shitty migraine fucked me ten times over the course of two days leaving me absolutely dead ass on my bed so. yeah. and anyhoo, any comments about this is SO much appreciated considering i spent the last week making this while in writer slump (5,3k WORDS BABYYY) and holy shit chat??? we're 50-notes away from??? ONE THOUSAND??? WHATTTTTTTT that was so fugkcing fast HRLP ME thank you for all the support regardless tho😞

p.s - might update more now since WOOHOO SUMMER BREAK IS FINALLY FUCKING HERE

(ask to be added or removed)

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter seven - so much for star dust

Pairing: Pre poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: While you spend some time examining everything that has come up since you fell out of the sky the boys face their own emotions, Epona throws a fit, and the pair that is Dark and Onyx scheme.

(Aka: reader breaks down, Legend is sad and has a shitty joke to cheer up Wars and Hyrule, Dink and dreader are in love and making problems, Wind proves a point, you soulmate with Twi and Wild so hard you have the same reaction about two different things, and some lady spills the "secret" that the chain has Feelings About you)

Warnings: cursing, grief, guilt, breakdowns

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

Previous Masterlist Next

-------

Three days after the chain leaves, you find yourself fairing about as well as you can hope. With your inexplicable ability to read hylian, you're able to read the odd jobs papers on the town bulletin board, and you earn some rupees through that.

Spooky seems inclined to hang around you, following you through the market or the town. They even tried to follow you into the inn!

(That didn't work. The inn keeper wasn't a fan. Spooky did, however, find your room window and sleep under it.)

The good news is you get great prices when shopping with a panther at your side! Also, creeps stay further away, which is definitely a bonus.

You are fairly confident Spooky has adopted you. Because they've brought you a few birds and also like to nap across your legs. So... yeah.

But you aren't complaining. They're self-sufficient enough to hunt their own food, and you don't have to clean a panther litter box.

Researching at the library dosen’t turn up any new information on the soulmate thing. This isn't a surprise but a disappointment.

The dreams have been getting more vivid, and the only hint you've found there was in a book called 'The Magic of Dreams', but that book was poorly written and had no sources. The book claims that dreams that frequent and vivid that truly feel like memories are often from 'past lives'.

Which is ridiculous because you live on Earth, not in Hyrule. How could your past lives be in a different universe?

What are you, Hylia's favorite character or something? Are you an anime protagonist?

The biggest concern for you right now is just trying to get used to this new way of life. It's strange to be in a place where there's no light pollution, no public transport, no cameras everywhere, and no headphones.

Today, you find your afternoon spent helping a heavily pregnant woman with her laundry. Washing it in the river before wringing it our and hanging it to dry.

Her son runs around to the side with Spooky, though she has the sense to look over frequently.

"May I ask about your... panther?" The woman - Alice - asks you.

You hum, rinsing out a tunic. "Spooky is sweet. They just came up to me a few days ago. I'm not sure why, though."

You wring the garment out before setting it on the rock beside you.

"How strange. You're sure they aren't dangerous?"

You smile, "Not to your son. But to birds? Maybe."

Alice gives a nervous giggle. "If you're sure."

"I am." You say.

And really, regardless of your personal views on children who would ever knowingly let a child so close to a bloodthirsty animal? You wouldn't.

"Where did the lovely young men you came with go off to?" Alice asks as she wrings out a blanket.

You ignore the immediate and strange urge to flinch at the reminder of the boys. "I'm not too sure. They have a quest they're on."

The words strike a strange resignment within you, as if this is something you've had to say many times. (You've never said it before that you recall.)

"I see. That's a shame they were lovely."

"They are," You manage to smile.

You both return to the laundry, allowing the silence to linger in a mostly comforting way.

There's a cool breeze, and the birds sing in the trees. It's nice here.

You would still like to get back to Earth, but there are much worse places to be.

You could be stuck in a zombie apocalypse or something else, not fun and even more dangerous.

You let yourself exist here for a moment, safe and in a world you've always longed to truly see.

The air is crisp, and the grass is sift where you touch it. The river rushes easily with little forms darting about the shallows.

Spooky brushes by you, rumbling happily as they bound away again.

"Do you think you'll see those men again?" Alice asks you.

There's an instinctive 'yes' that wells up in your throat, but you bite it back anyway. You can't know that for sure.

There is no guarantee of such things.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you want to?" She asks, giving you a little smile.

Again, the instinctive agreement is something you bite back. You settle on "I don't know..."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to poke if they've been rude."

You crack a half smile, "They're good guys... I think I just make them uncomfortable for the most part."

"Really? They kept staring at you like you hold the key to their hearts, and they think they've lost you," Alice muses as she wrings out a dress.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask breathlessly and thoroughly caught off gaurd.

What is she talking about? Every time you catch them looking at you, they look sad, angry, calculating, or comcerningly polite. How is she saying they looked at you any other way?

Is she imagining things? Is she lying?

"Those boys couldn't keep their eyes off you, you'd look away, and they'd stare at you like they're lost." She laughs a little, sounding as if she believes herself.

"Oh..."

If that's the case, it is probably just because you're a sore reminder of their soulmate. That... explains a lot, actually.

Hopefully, Wind hasn't lost that soulmate yet and never will. That kid has already done so much.

As you and Alice finish the laundry, you find yourself facing the pile of things you keep putting off in your mind.

Once the laundry is done, you accept the two blue rupees with a 'thank you' before leading Spooky across the little foot bridge to go sit on the stone bench with the bird bath beside it.

The bench sits in a park area of sorts, but it's empty for now, so you will use it to let your mind process... everything.

First of all, you are in Hyrule! A place that less than two weeks ago was no more than a setting for a popular video game franchise!

You fell out of the sky! Miraculously didn't have a bunch of injuries from that, and you met nine different Links.

Who falls out of the sky (unharmed!) and meets nine different people from their favorite video game franchise?

You apparently...but you also have some sort of Disney princess thing going on because you have a panther that has picked you as it's person.

None of this makes sense. It feels a lot more like a fever dream than reality.

If you're going to be honest, it feels a lot more like a fanfiction written by someone who has a fixation on hurt / comfort media.

But...

It is real.

You can't place why, but you know that this is real against all logic.

Against all odds, this is reality.

How the fuck are you even here though?!

Why you?

Why now?

Who brought you here?

Why can you read everything? It's in a fictional language! Except... it isn't fictional.

If Hyrule is real... are all the other fictional worlds real too?

Okay- nope! You can't think about that right now.

One crisis at a time, two max. Your crisis docket is chock full today, we can try again tomorrow.

Fuck... Hyrule is real, you've met nine different Links, magic is real, and you have no idea what's going on.

Maybe this fits in with the multiverse theory. Your brain woukd like it to.

Okay...

Multiverse... We can say that's real here maybe? You are in the world of Zelda

But... there's also those dreams and half memories that have been taunting and confusing you to no end.

Those fucking dreams and half memories!

Oh!

You want answers for that!

Why in the name of literally any and every deity are you experiencing half memories and dreams of men who can barely stand you?!

Even as creative as your brain gets that dosen’t account for how vivid and achingly real they feel.

The way you hear their voices speak in your mind as if they hold you as the most important person to them... hurts.

It hurts a lot.

You want someone to love you the way they love you in your weird half memories. It would be wonderful!

But that's not reality.

Sure, you definitely had a crush on the Links growing up, you aren't the only one. You have always thought them good looking, strong, honorable, and maybe a little mischievous depending on the source material.

You can admit that the real deal is also crush worthy, but it's hard to feel that way when everyone keeps you at arm's length.

The dreams make it harder than anything though. Living through scenarios where you are romantically involved, even the bad dreams, make it hard to remember the truth when you wake up.

You swear Hyrule called you Honeybee when he healed you...

Legend called you Trinket when he gave you that potion...

What do those even mean?

What are you supposed to do?

All you want is to go find them.

There's a soul deep ache to be with them but you can't place why.

Are you horrible?

Is your brain making up strange dreams?

Or worse... are you somehow reliving memories of the soulmate they always lose? Have you somehow been cursed to do that?

Did you do something to make that happen?

Is it like a ghost situation?

You groan, putting your face in your hands.

"Fuck."

The sentiment isn't nearly strong enough, but you don't know what else you can say. (Double fuck?)

Spooky comes over and nudges your arm with their nose, making an inquisitive sound.

You look over and give a straining smile. "Hey, pumpkin... I don't suppose you know what's happening?"

Spooky dosen’t answer, but they do push your arms away so they can put their head on your knee.

They stare up at you with bright eyes.

You huff a little but scratch behind their ear. "I don't guess you could tell me anyway."

Spooky just purrs, leaning into your fingers.

You laugh a little, only half fragile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see a dark figure move, but when you turn your head to check, no one is there. How odd.

No stranger than the rest of your life lately, maybe it's that shadow that took on those lizafos for you? Which...

Honestly that experience is another thing you don't understand but you can't find the energy to spiral about it.

Maybe it was Four's shadow? Or is his shadow still dead?

Oh shit- the heroes are not only real people, but you played through their trauma like it was a game to entertain you! You know so much more about their lives than you should, and it feels sick.

Knowing what you know makes your skin crawl and your throat feel thick.

What will they even say if they ever find out?

Spooky nudges you again to get your attention. They seem to be trying to cheer you up, which is sweet.

"Thank you, pumpkin..."

-------

"Epona, I have had about enough of your sass," Twilight grits as he tries yet again to lead his mare to cross the bridge, pronouncing ever word in a slow, steady pace that is engineered so he can't possibly be misunderstood.

Epona stands firm, refusing to move for the seventh time. She gives him her best 'unimpressed horse' whinny.

Wind snorts, "Do you want a hand?"

"I doubt anyone could get her to move," Twilight manages before he grits his teeth again.

Wild sighs, "What's going on with her anyway?"

"She's been like this since we left town." Four muses, "Did she want more rest?"

"You broke her horsey heart making her leave (Y/n)," Wind rolls his eyes, "She's just upset."

"Sailor, if you know so much how about you get her across the bridge?" Twilight asks in the same slow and clear manner.

Wind, just snorts, holding his hand out for the reigns. "Maybe I will."

Twilight passes the youngest hero the reigns and crosses his arms. The rancher is willing to bet money that this fails.

After all, the kid grew up by the sea, horses aren't his specialty.

Wind takes the reigns before bending down and ripping some grass out of the ground. The teen offers the grass to Epona, roots and all.

Epona takes the grass and begins to chew it, seemingly accepting the bribe.

Wind starts walking, gently pulling at the reigns. "Come on, Epona. We're just going to cross the bridge okay?"

Epona chews her grass, not moving but not fighting either.

Twilight smirks.

"Come on, pretty girl. Help me prove rancher wrong." Wind coaxes gently before he clicks his tongue twice.

Epona does move this time, slow and obviously unhappy, but she moves.

Wind leads Epona across the bridge while Twilight clenches his jaw.

The rancher is facing the fact that his mare is apparently a traitor.

"That's a good girl," Wind praises, patting Epona's neck. "Good job, sweetheart."

The pirate is not above stealing the name you use for the horse, and it seems to please the mare so he won't stop anytime soon. He likes proving a point after all.

Legend snickers, "She must be mad at you, cowboy."

"Shut up," Twilight hisses.

Time snorts and Wild just laughs.

Sky pats Twilight's shoulder.

Four and Hyrule share a look, biting back smiles.

"All you did was bribe her, sailor," Twilight says as he crosses the bridge with Wild and Legend on his heels.

The rancher crosses his arms as he moves, only a little sore about being proven wrong.

Warriors, already across the bridge, laughs as he pets Epona. "You could have bribed her too."

"Shut it, city boy." Twilight huffs.

Wild - the traitor - laughs at that, snapping a picture on his slate.

There's a distinct sense of fear that crawls up the spine if every hero followed by a ground shaking roar.

"Fuck." Wild hisses, whipping around.

Twilight looks up and sees two gleeocks and promptly thinks 'fuck ain't enough of a sentiment'.

"Do we have to fight?" Wind groans.

Time shoots the pirate a deadpan look. "Yes, we do."

"That shadow is getting more vicious," Twilight draws lowly as he grips his sword hilt.

Wild and Legend both start sending arrows at the beasts and the fight commences.

Twilight dodges out of the way of lightning and hears an explosion in the sky. He supposes Wild found the bomb arrows.

Probably good.

But then black blood drips from the sky.

"Double fuck!" Wild hisses.

"Shiver me timbers!" Wind shrieks, choosing the moment to be obnoxious while not cursing becomes he's mad at Time.

Twilight takes a second to be grateful you aren't here for this before he knocks Legend out of the way and deflects a lightning ball with a wooden shield.

The fight descends into adrenaline fueled instincts.

The boys lose track of their own movements, they can't see keep track if others.

By the time it's over, they're all half dead and grateful for potions.

-------

Dark sighs heavily where he sits, crossing his arms as he glares at the wall from within the shadows.

"Are you seriously pouting right now?" Onyx chuckles as they look over from where they are currently rearranging your things to be easier to find.

They aren't doing that because they like you or anything, the chaos was just pissing them off.

"I do not pout, I am made of evil," Dark pouts harder.

Onyx snorts, "That is absolutely bullshit, viper. Knock it off."

"It is not bullshit."

"You know how I feel about being lied to," Onyx warns sweetly as they finish tidying your things.

They set the little seagull figurine in the back, unsure why you like it to much.

Dark gives a slow, heavy sigh. "It should not be so difficult to end nine lives. You understand that, don't you, darling lamb?"

Onyx rolls their eyes and turns to look their lover over. "Can't you focus on the challenge instead of a short term disappointment? Where's my vicious man?"

"My darling lamb, am I not allowed to be frustrated?"

"You can be frustrated, but you have a habit of wallowing in it." Onyx points out, awars of the way their lover gets.

"I do not wallow."

"Dark."

"I only wallow the acceptable amount."

Onyx gives a thoroughly unimpressed look.

Dark opens his arms, "I am mourning a great plan, I demand you comfort me."

They roll their eyes, but they go over anyway. They always will. They will always go to home when he asks.

Onyx collapses into Dark's arms carelessly, more than trusting that he will keep them both upright. It's his job anyway as the one demanding this.

They press their face against his chest, listening to his heart. "You'll get them next time, viper."

Dark pulls them close, one hand on the back of their thigh and the other on their shoulder. "I will eviscerate them."

"It was a good plan," Onyx says softly. "It would have taken one or two of them alone out."

"They're still alive."

"I know. But with (Y/n) out of the way you can attack without fear."

"That's true..."

"Why don't I make a plan? You need a break and I'm bored." Onyx muses, ideas already half spinning through their mind.

Dark grins sharper, half smitten and half cruel. "I do love your twisted mind."

Onyx hums, pressing a kiss to his throat. "You flatter me."

"I do not. I just adore your plans."

Onyx grins. "Good. I am amazing."

"You are. My darling lamb."

"What can we do about getting (Y/n) out of this time and somewhere else?"

"Whatever you want, I will make happen." He promises them easily, without thought or deceit.

-------

Legend sits away from the group but is careful to make sure he's close enough to Hyrule and Warriors to watch them after the disaster that the Gleeocks wrought. He is incredibly grateful that you are not with them right now, it means you are safe.

That's what matters anyway.

He misses you.

By the Golden Three, he misses you so much.

You are safe though, in a town with nice people and away from all the tense behaviors his brothers exhibit to you.

Legend could kick himself for letting his grief cloud his judgments and treating anyonethe way he was treating you before. It's only made worse knowing he took his grief for his soulmate... out on his soulmate.

He is such an asshole.

Fuck.

"I still don't understand why their magic has to be identical," Hyrule says to Warriors.

Legend swallows and turns his attention to the conversation between the traveler and the captain.

Warriors sighs, "Does it matter?"

"You don't get it. Their magic was a perfect copy. Magic is always unique to an individual. Even similar magic signatures have some variation."

Warriors rubs his temples. "Hyrule, you know as well as I do that the goddesses aren't that kind."

Hyrule sighs, rubbing his arm absently. "I guess..."

"You're looking for our soulmate, and you probably always will. I understand, I do it too, but you'll run yourself into the grave if you aren't careful," the captain warns with a heavy tone as he looks up to the stars.

Legend bites the inside of his cheek. It's just one more secret he holds, and it's to save his brothers the same grief he faces.

You don't even seem to know.

It takes everything he has to keep from spilling the truth. If he tells them, after the momentary joy, they too will have to know they lost you. Again.

Legend can't do that to them.

"Isn't there anything that (Y/n) did that made you think they were really our soulmate?" Hyrule asks with a weak voice as he stares into the fire.

Warriors lets out a bitter chuckle. "Almost everything. The day they saw the lizafos before we did? They shoved Wind behind them without a shield or sword to their name. It was a reflex."

"Oh."

"That's how I lost them, to an ambush... their reactions are identical, Rulie... But (Y/n) isn't Dove."

Hyrule looks to the captain with a look that is all but a shattering heart. "How do you know?"

"Because we aren't that lucky, and they've never said anything about knowing a Link."

Hyrule swallows hard, hugging himself tightly. "You're probably right..."

Legend sighs, shoving down the words that want to come out. He stands and walks to the traveler's side before he sits back down.

Warriors just raises a brow.

Legend wraps an arm around Hyrule's shoulders, pulling the other into his side.

Hyrule leans into Legend.

"Finally joining the fun?" Warriors challenges.

Legend scoffs, "You weren't having fun, pretty boy. You were having a wake."

The captain rolls his eyes. "Like you can be more cheerful."

Legend snorts, "Is that a challenge?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Knock knock."

Hyrule stifles a laugh, side eyeing his predecessor.

"You're fucking kidding me," Warriors huffs incredulously.

"I said 'knock knock'," Legend raises a brow.

The captain lets out a theatrical sigh, "Who's there?"

Legend gives a grin, "Boo."

"Boo who?" Warriors asks as he crosses his arms.

"Aw, don't cry pretty boy," Legend coos in a sarcastic tone, "It's just a joke."

Hyrule laughs, swatting at Legend playfully. "That was horrible! Jesus Christ, Ledge."

"How did you manage to be a prick through a knock knock joke?" Warriors asks, sounding rather impressed.

"I'm just that great," Legend smirks.

What he dosen’t tell them is that the joke is one he used on you back when you were kids whenever you were down. Back then, when you were both still children, the joke always got at least a little amusement from you.

He finds that as much as he avoids the joke because of the memory it holds... Legend dosen’t mind sharing it now with his brothers.

You would certainly approve.

"That was ridiculous," Warriors informs him.

Legend shrugs, "You just have bad taste."

"I do not!" Warriors scoffs.

Hyrule snickers, "You so do.'

Legend lets the two argue as they hop from topic to topic, taking pride in the fact he got them to stop poking an emotional wound that will never quite heal. He just wants to help them.

He just wants them to be okay.

He already failed Hyrule horribly just by not finishing Ganon for good...

Legend can't fail the traveler again.

He can't fail any of them.

You would be doing everything you can for them if you were aware, and so it's Legend's job to do so in your steed.

Hopefully you're okay in that town.

Maybe... maybe he could go visit? Just to check.

His Pegasus boots would make it easier.

No.

The best choice Legend can make is to let you go... so he will.

Legend will let you go, and he will stay away because that's what's best for you. That's what matters.

-------

Next - wip

Taglist: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight @phlying-squirrel @pumpkincitrus

[whowrotethenote]

𝐒𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚…

Anything that's already up is staying up. I'm not deleting anything. You can kiss my ass. Eat dirt. Talk to God about it cause LaLa don't care. Block me if you have to.

Biggest Fan // I am going to see it through to the end. It was the first fic I posted and it seems to be the one everyone loves the most. It was coming to a close anyway. Not posting anymore visuals of him though. I’ll use his first name and imagine it’s someone else. It’s a story. Same way I don’t even condone what the two main characters are doing and am still writing it, is the same way I can finish the story and imagine Joe as someone else because I don’t support the original face claim. Reading is subjective. So you’ll interpret how you want anyway. Once it’s completed writing for Joe/Roman is clipped. Over with.

The Tribal Killer // Changing the last name of Roman as to not associate it with Joe. In my head it is someone else and I’m open to suggestions of other face claims (preferably similar to appearance in Joe because it fits the story’s description of him).

Any other fics I've been working on and haven’t posted yet, i'll just have to find other men as face claims and change the names.

Let’s pray to the most high that the twins are smarter than their cousin and keep quiet so I can post this Jey oneshot soon.

I wanna be clear that this blog does not support Joe or Roman any more. As a black woman I have to take a stance and draw a line. Being neutral and indifferent is not something I can afford as a minority. Silence also speaks volumes. If you're not apart of the solution you are apart of the problem.

People are dying, families being stripped apart all under Trump's administration. This mf has taken away the department of education. Closest endorser did a fucking Nazi salute on national television. Talks of martial law being declared. It couldn't be more blatant and in our faces than it is today. That project 2025 will be a bitch for anyone who still thinks politics is as simple as a difference in opinion. Me not caring whether someone lives or dies is not an opinion. It's a declaration with possibility of action. Trump is not just coming out of his mouth and saying he does not care for the well being of minorities, he's doing something about it. Period. And say it with me 🗣️ politics are not rooted in opinions they are rooted in beliefs. My father and uncles are politicians so I’m not chatting shit. These people push laws based on beliefs. They believe that a fetus is a person so they’re altering abortion laws to fit under murder. An opinion would be “I personally wouldn’t get an abortion.” Not pushing laws and declaring it murder. Be fr.

Everybody keeps trying to deep the context and talking about how he didn’t exclusively say “I voted for Trump.” I thought we were all readers lol. Please use your context clues. What do you think was meant by “clear choice.” Even “I support our president,” knowing who sits in that seat is insane. He said a whole bunch of nothing when he should’ve just said…nothing. It was irresponsible given his audience/fanbase. A simple “no comment,” would’ve sufficed. Then maybe y’all could get away with what he didn’t say exclusively and I’d understand. I get he said he doesn’t agree with everything that Trump does—but what he’s done and is still doing are too extreme to still support no matter what. And then that orange bitch getting an Ula Fala… yeah I see what’s going on here lol.

Also wanna be clear that I don’t hate Joe. I hate Trump so anyone who is indifferent or not clear and on the fence about him I have to take a step back from. I am disappointed and disgusted and I have every right to be. But hate is a strong word, especially for someone who is just ignorant or trying to save face for the sake of financial reasons. Not making excuses for Joe just calling it as I see it.

If you choose to still watch Mania/write about him that's your business. Not my job to micromanage grown ppl on the internet. I won't go around bashing ppl and I don't support that either.

All my mutuals, and other writers I’ve connected with—y’all know I fuck with y’all the long way. If you choose to still write for or about him that’s your business and I’ll respect it. Probably won’t repost it especially if you have his face on the post, but i’ll be supporting your art in other ways like commenting if I can.

I hope you all still support me as a writer regardless of who I am writing about. I've really enjoyed this fandom, everyone has been so kind, funny and enlightening thus far. I hope it stays that way. Thank you💗

And this is my last time speaking on it unless someone directly asks me a question or I see something funny and have to repost. (Y’all know I play too much.) Let’s stop giving our energy to things that don’t mean us any good. Cause honestly this is the reaction people like them want. They’re in entertainment. Their livelihoods depend on traction and buzz.

Back to this writing shit😂

[theoretically-questionable]

While I understand the position, I'd definitely push back on the complexity of use or similarity of meaning. I think their biggest problem is just that they look similar. They're used very differently!

You can definitely get along fine by just hyphenating things, people will usually know what you're saying, and this isn't intended to be a "here's how to use these! it's simple! do it now!" reply.

But! ☝️🤓

(Quibbling about the importance of distinguishing under the cut)

"-" compound words, double-barreled names, and joining adjectives to nouns

"–" ranges between numbers and qualitative measurements (from X 'to' X), joining words that imply a relationship between two distinct things (in a similar way to how a slash "/" is sometimes used, and this is the most annoying one, tbh)

"—" basically brackets but you don't need to 'close' them if you end the sentence at a full stop — like this.

One of the most common places I see the difference between a hyphen (-) and an en dash (–) being important is in attribution.

If you have a thing that's named after a person/people, you don't want to be ambiguous as to whether a theorem was created by one person with a double-barreled last name (i.e., the Jones-Barrow Equation) or two people (i.e., the Jones—Barrow Equation).

You can argue that this is solved with the '&' symbol (the Jones & Barrow Equation), which might get you shot in some grammar circles, but it's a fair point.

While I'd argue that the dashes and hyphen don't overlap with each other or have similar uses, a lot of their individual uses could be handled by other punctuation marks or prepositions.

But I like the various dashes. They tie similar functions together into a single symbol and provide nuance. They're much harder to work with and keep consistent in written script than typed, which is possibly why they've seen a resurgence in online/typed writings?

Anyhow, sticking with hyphens is fine unless you're in a specific context with a rigid style where people are paying attention to the usage of these symbols (academia, etc). People know a horizontal line links stuff together and that's basically fine (I say, beating my own internal editor into silence).

just saw a post that accused someone of using generative ai to write an essay because 'no one uses — instead of commas or semicolons' and i've never been more offended in my life

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

I couldn't give two flying farts about Soldier Boy but your reply to that ask with the breeding kink? 🥵🫨😍

So here is my suuuper self-indulgent ask: what, in your opinion, is Sam's biggest kink(s)? The thing that drives him completely crazy? Could be younger Sam or older Sam (or both).

Kisses and thank you for your service! x

first of all. I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE HERE!!!

"i couldn't give two flying farts" made me BARK like a goddamn seal.

i need to tell you right now. i have THOUGHTS. i've lost literal sleep spiralling over this very concept and i am thrilled—elated—to report that i believe our lord and saviour, sam winchester, absolutely, without question, has a buffet of kinks. so grab a snack, get cozy, maybe (definitely) hydrate a little, because i'm about to drop a full dissertation under the cut.

✨ younger sam (early seasons / stanford era / the “i’m a good boy but i also kind of want to ruin you” era) ✨

younger sam is... a problem. a menace. a walking, talking praise kink with floppy hair and puppy dog eyes who wants to be good so, so bad but is secretly desperate to wreck you. he’s all wide hands, shaky breathing, and the quiet, low whines he tries (and fails) to swallow down when you praise him. he wants to be gentle. he tries to be gentle. but the second you tell him he’s doing good? it’s over for you. and him. and the bedframe.

praise kink: this is canon. this is his religion. tell him he’s good and you will physically feel him get harder inside you.

oral fixation: he is obsessed with having his mouth on you. between your thighs, kissing up your spine, mouthing at your wrists—he wants to taste you everywhere.

desperation kink: the breathless, frantic way he grabs you like he might die if he doesn't get inside you immediately? yeah. that's not acting.

corruption kink (lite edition): if you’re shy or inexperienced? he’s obsessed with ruining you gently. calling you "sweetheart" or "pretty girl" while he makes you sob into his shoulder.

soft dom tendencies: he’s not fully confident yet, but when it sneaks out—when his hand tightens on your jaw or he says “keep your eyes on me”—it wrecks both of you.

possessiveness kink (hidden but dangerous): he’s so good at playing the polite, sweet, safe boy—but deep down? he’s lowkey deranged for you. seeing another guy look at you would make him snap in quiet, scary ways. "you're mine. you know that, right? no one else gets to see you like this." (growled against your throat while he's buried inside you)

hair pulling kink (getting pulled and pulling yours): we know sam’s hair is practically a character. you tug on it when you're kissing and he shudders. he pulls yours when he needs to anchor himself inside you. “hold still for me, baby. just like that, fuck—” (fist tangled in your hair, forehead pressed to yours)

slow burn / edging kink (accidental): younger sam tries to be so careful, so good at "making it last," but it gets messy fast. still, he’s fascinated by how much you squirm if he just won’t let you come right away. and it lights something dark in him.

and the thing about younger sam is that even though he's trying so hard to be good and sweet and careful with you, it’s so obvious he’s holding back something darker. something heavier. it’s in the way his hands shake when he grips your waist too tight. it’s in the way his voice drops when he gets too worked up.

and the second that boy grows up? the second he stops trying to pretend he’s not wired for obsession and control and desperate, all-consuming need?? it’s over for you. and him. and society at large.

✨ older sam (late seasons / “i have nothing left to lose except you, and i'll kill for you without blinking” era) ✨

older sam is... dangerous. soft in the places that matter, brutal everywhere else. he’s quieter now. more calculating. and when he wants something? when he wants you? he doesn’t ask. he takes.

control kink: you don't lift a finger unless he says so. he’s thought about everything already. he knows what you need better than you do. "hands above your head, sweetheart. there you go. let me take care of it."

size kink: sam winchester knows he’s a big boy. and he loves making you feel it. loves seeing you struggle a little. loves hearing you gasp when he stretches you open and just grins like the devil himself.

degradation kink (soft and firm): he can flip between praising you like you’re an angel and absolutely destroying you verbally in 0.5 seconds flat. "poor baby. can't even take a little cock without crying? thought you were my good girl."

ownership kink: if you think for one second you're walking outta there without a mark or his come leaking out of you, you're wrong. "gonna stay nice and full for me, aren't you, sweetheart? let everyone see who you belong to."

lowkey breeding kink: he doesn’t even say it half the time. he just fucks you so deep and so slow and so hard that your whole body knows it. but when he does say it? when he leans down and growls shit like "gonna keep you, baby. fill you up so good no one else’ll ever touch you again"? yeah. you ascend. straight into the void.

corruption kink (deeper, darker edition): younger sam wanted to corrupt you sweetly. older sam wants to ruin you. he loves the contrast. the way you look so soft, so sweet, and then sob his name with your face messy and your voice broken. it’s about ownership and power and control, but it’s also about trust. "no one’s ever gonna see you like this but me, baby. you’re mine. my pretty girl."

voyeurism kink (lowkey but lethal): YES. HE HAS THIS. it’s the control again, but subtler. sam loves watching you. watching you touch yourself just how he told you to (with permission). watching you squirm under his gaze when you're already wrecked but still trying to be good. watching your body give out because of him. it’s not just visual—it’s psychological dominance. it's: "don’t hide from me, sweetheart. want you to see what you look like when you fall apart for me."

exhibitionism kink (with a dangerous edge): this is where it gets even meaner. it’s not about public sex per se—it’s about the risk. he loves you getting embarrassed by the thought that someone might hear you. he’ll fuck you against a wall in a semi-public hallway in the bunker, hand over your mouth, whispering "shh, sweetheart. you don’t want dean to hear, do you?" while he keeps thrusting.

overstimulation kink (weaponised): bunker sam has no chill. you come once? cool. you come twice? cute. you come three, four, five times? perfect, he’s just getting started. he wants you mindless. crying. babbling his name. "come on, baby. one more. i know you got another one in you. be good f’me."

younger sam is accidental filth. he’s so desperate to be good, so determined to hold himself together, but the second you praise him or even look at him a little too sweetly? he’s fucking ruined. desperate, needy, a mess between your thighs. all floppy hair and trembling hands and whispered “please.”

older sam is intentional filth. controlled. calculating. slow and devastating. he doesn’t just want to make you come—he wants to own every single sound you make. wants to watch you fall apart because of him. wants to know that you trust him enough to let him absolutely destroy you and still crawl into his lap after, wrecked and smiling.

and the thing about sam winchester is that he’s not a boy anymore. he’s a man. an unapologetic, brutal, soft, possessive, hand-around-your-throat-but-kisses-your-forehead-after kind of man. the kind that makes you feel worshiped and ruined in the same breath. the kind you never recover from.

and honestly? thank god. am i right?

honourable mentions: @losers-clvb @xoswiftieprincess <3

[blushsturns]

✰ under one roof: housemate!chris x house!mate!reader ✰

part one ★ new roommate

master list ⋆ c.ai bot

word count: 2816

To be fair, this wasn’t something you wanted to agree to. You were totally against this— not sure how it would all play out, but here you were having a roommate you never even wanted to have in the first place. Even though you could be a little bitchy and rough around the edges, you knew you had a big heart, and you were doing your best friend a favor.

You looked around at the moving boxes scattered across the hardwood floor of your old vacant spare bedroom. The bedroom was practically collecting dust since moving into your brand-new apartment six months ago. Now the bedroom was being rented out by someone you used to have the biggest crush on in high school that you absolutely cannot stand now: Christopher Sturniolo. 

Four years have passed since you last saw him and the only thing you knew about him now was that he was a professional hockey player and your best friend’s fiancé’s brother. He was staying with them before moving in with you, sleeping on their couch, but apparently, he always felt like he was in the way. Reyna, your best friend, would never admit it to his face, but apparently it was getting hard to find time alone with her fiancé Matt when his brother was always around.

Now he’s apparently your problem. You were such a good friend, agreeing to let him move in. She would have to pay you back somehow because this was a big favor to ask.

“Come on, please.” Reyna had begged you one night on the phone, her whispered voice so close to the microphone because Chris was in the next room. “I can’t even be loud anymore because his damn brother is just making himself at home in our living room. Please think about it. He’s not the same jackass that he was in high school. He’d be able to fit right in with you.”

You remember groaning over the phone at her words that pulled at your heart strings. You understood completely. Chris had just gotten dumped from his ex-girlfriend and also had to move out of his apartment and needed a place to stay. Reyna and Matt were so gracious to let him stay with them, but after three months, they both needed him to leave the nest. Now he was your problem.

“Fine, but only because I love you and I’m such a nice person when I have to be.” You really tried your best to be a nice person to the people who deserve it, but you have been hurt so many times. After all the hurt, you had to start putting your walls up to protect yourself and your heart.

Here you are now, standing against the doorframe as you watch Christopher Sturniolo finish bringing in the last of his boxes, a soft huff of his lips, clearly exhausted from all of the shit he had. Most of it was in boxes, but some of his hockey gear was all in bags. 

You cleared your throat to get his attention; your arms crossed over your chest as you kept your eyes focused on him.

He looked up at you with a wicked grin on his lips, running his fingers through his tousled locks. “Oh, hey there roomie, didn’t even see you standing there.”

You roll your eyes at his words, a laugh emitting from your lips. “I’m just checking in to make sure you’re all good. Is that the last of your stuff?” Your eyes averted over to the last of his bags that filled his hockey gear.

Chris kept his eyes focused on you as he ran his fingers through his tousled locks. “Yeah, this is officially it.” He let out a deep huff, looking around at his brand-new room before back up at you, his ocean blue eyes gleaming. “Thanks for letting me move in, seriously. I appreciate it.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly to his words. “I mean, I’m just doing Reyna and Matt a favor.” 

“And me.” He flashed you a playful wink at you, his lips curving up into a slight smirk. In all honesty, he was so much more attractive than he was in high school, if that were possible. You tried not to pay too much attention to it, considering you’ll be living with the guy. Sure, you had a crush on him in high school, but that’s all it was—a crush. Nothing came out of it and Chris was always so unserious half the time back then, you weren’t sure if he was the same way now.

He was right, though—you were doing him a favor and it’s not like he owes you his life or anything, but you were such a generous person for allowing him to move in when it wasn’t something you were practically on board for at first. 

“We need to set some ground rules, if that’s cool with you?” You looked over at him as your body leaned against the doorway, your arms crossed over your chest.

Chris nodded his head, his lips curved up into a more playful smirk. “I should’ve known there was going to be rules, but sure, hit me with them.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that, but you decided to ignore it. “Rule number one is absolutely no hookups. I don’t want to see or hear random bitches in here especially when I’m around. Is that a deal breaker or anything?” 

Chris’ lips curved into a wider smirk before pressing his lips together in a firm line. “Nope, not an issue. I guess I can handle that. That goes for you too, right? No random guys here?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at his question. “I mean, it is my place, but since I now have a roomie, I guess not.” You didn’t tell him that you didn’t have random guys in your place before he even moved in, but you figured you would leave that part out and up to his imagination if that even happened or not.

“Our place now, sweet cheeks.” He flashed you a playful wink, that almost made your stomach flutter–almost.

‘Yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes at his words. At least he seemed fine with the first rule. He would have to be okay with the rules if he wanted to continue to live with you. “Okay, rule number two.” You could tell he was about to brace himself for the next rule you were about to announce to him. It was hard to keep your focus when he looked so damn good just standing there, staring at you so intently, almost like he was reading you and trying to get into your head. It made your cheeks feel warm and you hoped that he wasn’t able to tell how flustered you were getting just by having direct eye contact with him. 

Your body stayed pressed up against the doorway as you pressed your lips together in a firm line, before continuing your words. “Sometimes I walk around the house in just a t-shirt and panties. Yes, I own pants, and I don’t like wearing them sometimes when I’m lounging around in the comfort of my own home. Can you keep your eyes, and hands to yourself?”

His eyes widened at your words, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his eyes already scanning down your body from head to toe which made your cheeks feel warm again. “Y-you, without pants?” He asked, stammering on his words. 

You knew Chris was a flirt and always had a thing going on with random girls and hooking up with them back in high school and in college. All the stories Reyna has told you that she’d heard from Matt made you secretly wonder how good he was in bed, but you decided to keep that thought buried in your brain. It was best to keep it there and not allow it to resurface. This was your high school crush, the pain in your ass, your new roommate. Things had to stay platonic so that there isn’t any negativity or weird tension. 

That was possible, right? To live with someone, you used to have the biggest crush on, who was now an extremely attractive, flirty hockey player? It was going to have to be possible to keep your cool. You’d just have to continue to be bitter, distant, and keep it strictly professional. Even if it would be hard, considering he’s staring at you right now like he was trying to envision what your body looked like underneath your clothing.

You only had a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt, your hair up in a ponytail. Today was apparently the only day that Chris was available to move in–a Sunday; your day off and the day you usually relax and consider yourself dead to the world. 

“Yeah, is that a problem, Chistopher?” You asked him, completely nonchalant even though you could tell the thought of you around the house in just panties made him flustered and it was kind of cute to see him like this. Maybe it made you evil, but it was just your personality, especially around him. 

“N-not at all.” He stammered, his cheeks reddened as he scanned your body up and down before his eyes averted back to yours. “So, it wouldn’t bother you if I did the same thing?”

You thought about it for a moment. He was playing with fire now. The thought of him in nothing but his briefs made your own cheeks warm, and you didn’t want him to notice you were even thinking of this, let alone be affected by it by any means. Sure, you had a huge crush on him in high school, but nothing came out of it. You had to hang around him sometimes because his brother was dating your best friend, but he ended up becoming nothing but a pest. 

“Nah.” You say simply, your lips curving up into a slight smirk. “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you like he was studying you, trying to read right through you. He stepped closer to you, his moving boxes and items still all over the ground. His lips curved into a slight smirk as he continued to keep his eyes solely focused on you.

You watched him come closer as you continued to lean against the door, your heart plummeting in your chest. He now stood before you, his eyes averting down to your lips before back up into your eyes, licking over his lips slowly. “Are you sure about that? You seem a little…nervous.”

Your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink at his words, pulling your gaze away from him. His words and the way his body moved closer to you made you feel nervous. You didn’t want him to know that you were nervous, but he could already tell. You tried to be strong, to keep your rough around the edge's demeanor. There was no way Christoper Sturniolo still had an effect on you. You were so much stronger than that.

“N-no.” You stammered, biting gently onto your bottom lip as you two were now inches apart from each other. You could feel his body heat radiating against you, your cheeks warm and your heart beating rapidly in your chest so fast that he could probably hear it and feel it too. “I’m not nervous.” You tried to speak your words as confidently as possible, but he was reading right through you. 

He let out a soft chuckle, moving his hand up to place a strand of your hair over your ear which instantly sent a shiver down your spine. He was so close to you that you could feel his hot and heavy breath lingering against your lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite believe you.” His lips curved into a wider smirk, his hand resting onto the side of your face. “I think you’re thinking about me without clothes on and how hard that may be for you to handle. It’s okay to admit it, sweetheart.”

Was he right? Absolutely yes. Were you going to tell him that? Hell no you weren’t. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like the only thing that you could hear and feel at this point. You looked down at his lips before back up into his pretty ocean blue eyes. You always thought he was so fucking adorable with his silly laugh and sparkling blue eyes and flirty personality until you realized what a nuisance he was to be around. He’d always tease you, tell the corniest jokes, and would nonstop talk your ear off. 

Did it hurt you when he still asked the most popular girl in school to senior prom? Heck yeah it did. You ended up going with some guy in your grade that Reyna set you up with, but the whole night you kept making eye contact with Chris. Every time you looked up at him, there he was smirking at you as he danced with his date and eyeing you like he couldn’t quite take his eyes off you. You ignored him, rolling your eyes and trying to focus on your own date. You weren’t for sure if Chris ever liked you back then, but if he did, he had a shitty way of showing it.

Just when you were about to respond, Chris’ phone went off making you both jump in surprise and pull away from each other. You could tell the disappointment all over his face–you had to admit you were disappointed too, but it was probably a good thing to have the moment interrupted. This was your new roommate. You had to act professional. 

“It’s Matt.” He mounted his words to you as he picked up the phone and turned his back to begin talking to him. 

You exhaled deeply and fully, pulling away from the wall to look around at his bedroom that was filled with moving boxes, hockey gear and tons of bags that you assumed were filled with his clothes. 

After a couple more seconds, Chris hung up the phone and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry, Matt just wanted to make sure I was alive or if you had killed me already for being such a shitty roommate, but he said that I’m your problem now.”

You shook your head in disbelief, rolling your eyes playfully. “Well, we still have to go over some more ground rules to make sure this works for both of us.” Your voice was more professional, stern, focused.

He straightened up his posture, nodding his head at your words. He was obviously taking this seriously now too, despite the little moment you two just had. “Lay it on me, roomie.”

You cleared your throat now that you had the floor, trying to act like everything is normal even though your heart was still racing rapidly in your chest. Luckily, you were good at masking how you felt no matter what. “No drugs, no being loud late at night, clean up after yourself, make sure not to leave messes everywhere-”

He cut you off, a laugh erupting from his throat. “Are you saying I’m messy or some shit?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, pressing your lips together in a firm line before speaking, “I’m just trying to think of rules that are common sense among other roommates. Do you have any for me?”

His lips curved into a slight smirk at your question, instantly nodding his head. “Actually, I do.” His smirk widened as he walked up to you again, not as close as before, but close enough to make you a little flustered. “Why don’t we go out for pizza and drinks to talk more? Kind of a…celebratory dinner for your new roomie finally getting his own place and catch up a little more since we will be living together and it’s been quite a while since we went out and did anything.” 

To be fair, it was the first time you’d actually be spending time with him and only him, without your best friend and Matt to follow suite. You didn’t want to live with a complete stranger so getting to know him more and who he was today would be better than not knowing who you were living with exactly. 

“Fine.” You replied back with confidence filling your tone. “But only because pizza sounds fucking amazing and I’m starving.”

He let out a laugh, almost like he didn’t believe you. He shook his head in disbelief, the smirk on his face only widening as he kept his eyes solely focused on you. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason.”

This was going to be an interesting experience living together, wasn’t it?

notes: thanks for reading! sorry this took me so long to write. if you have any ideas for me, send them to my inbox! miss and love you guys. -n

taglist: @strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rcameronlova1 @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @harls-sturn @whore4chris @slvtf0rchr1s @tits4matt @ikyoudreamofme @sophsturns @sturniszn

[chvoswxtch]

I wrote all this in my notes app while I was watching the finale so this is basically me coming to you live from my couch while freaking the fuck out but if you know me you know chaotic rambling is what I do best

matt saying karen’s name when he woke up in the hospital was just like alex saying izzy’s name and that was all the confirmation I needed that whatever they had going on ended right then and there and it was never real to begin with

also how are you gonna leave your man that just got shot in the hospital?? notice how kirsten didn’t 👀

fisk not giving a single fuck that matt saved him and trying to kill him anyway is COLD

“a dead hero is better than a live vigilante” I see the season 3 writers are in the fucking building

also what is it with fisk and trying to poison people in hospitals?? sorry buck but you’ll never be westley that diva was one of a kind

frank showing up at matt’s apartment bitching about there not being any coffee is so special to me you don’t understand

“nightgown man” “blind boy” I don't think frank has ever called matt by his actual name it's always red or a bitchy insult and I love that for them

“aftershave and a haircut? that all for me?” / “yeah I did it for you” AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT ???

“you’re not gonna do it with your ass out?” frank out here asking the real questions. I wish he would’ve. like charlie has no problem with nudity we couldn't get one quick ass shot as a treat for all our pain and suffering??

also frank looking at matt’s bare ass while saying that makes it even fucking funnier (alexa play that should be me)

I knew as soon as frank said he got a call it was karen and when she showed up I fucking SCREAMED MY BABY IS BACK

frank redecorating matt’s whole apartment with blood and brain matter was wild and his feral yelling throughout the whole sequence had my basement flooding if ya know what I mean

they might as well have jumped off that roof holding hands and GOD I missed their bickering I want a whole season just of that

karen literally pulled up like a disappointed mother that had to come pick up her two dumbass sons that got suspended for fighting I was dying laughing

GODDAMNIT JUST LET THEM FUCKING KISS ITS BEEN A DECADE I CANT HANDLE THE YEARNING MY HEART CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE FOR FUCKS SAKE

matt being a jealous bitch boy pls you had your shot

"you couldn't call me?" uh I don't know matthew, maybe bc there's three seasons of evidence of you not answering the fucking phone when karen calls??? you know who does answer the phone?? FRANK

also you literally heard both of their heartbeats you know they’re in love get a grip you have bigger problems right now and your ass needs to stay single until you get medicated

“avocados at law” just fucking shoot me in kneecap it would hurt less

THE FUCKING SKULL SHOWING UP IN THE DARKNESS?? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

frank ripping through the task force and calling them fucking clowns is so *chefs kiss* 5 stars, no notes, all the awards

they were literally like omg we’re your biggest fans and he was like bitch fuck you

“you think you know my pain? you think you know my loss?” y’all didn’t have to do that how much emotional trauma can you fit in one episode was it a fucking game

that whole scene with frank and the task force reminded me a lot of the scene with billy and rawlins from s1 of the punisher and when I tell you I need frank to take powell out in a way that would make fisk clutch his pearls i’m not exaggerating

speaking of, I think fisk popping gallo’s head takes the cake for his most brutal kill over the head decapitation from s1 with the car door like my jaw DROPPED (not bc of the scene itself, but bc they actually allowed that) like that was some terrifier shit and i’m here for it spectacular gimme 14 more of em right now

heather girl I wanted to like you but you can kiss my ass and kick rocks bye

kirsten baby i’m still rooting for you go get your man (pls for the love of god make him go to therapy first)

bb honey pls be careful you’re doing amazing

that whole scene of matt talking about losing his sight with karen and then his ending monologue oh my GOD we are so fucking back (but seriously stab me it would hurt less)

now i’m wondering does josie now know about matt??? like does she know he’s daredevil???? or did karen show up with him like this is my friend daredevil and josie was like yeah he helped fuck up my bar but I guess he can stay he’s gotta pay for his drinks though repairs ain’t cheap

matt telling karen he’s glad she’s back was speaking for all of us welcome home karen the kids missed you

i’m sorry but if you keep francis david castiglione alive knowing that man runs on black coffee and blood thirty vengeance you’re a fucking dipshit what did y’all think was gonna happen

“you know about me?” frank LAUGHING is so real bc you know who this man is and what he did and yet you think he wants to shake your hand and be friends?? anthony from jersey you dumb whore

“we need an army” BITCHHHHHHH LETS FUCKING GO BABY

it’s the defenders. i’m calling it. the defenders are getting back together and they’re gonna be main ones leading the fight against fisk

the shot of matt as daredevil through the door of josie’s fucking CINEMA

are we gonna talk about how daniel's suspenders look suspiciously familiar to muse's??? I really thought bastian was a red herring for muse, bc there was an ep where there was a shot of muse's eyes and then daniel's eyes (or vice versa, I can't remember) and then the recap for this episode included clips of muse...but then no muse at all, not even mentioned in passing. usually something isn't included in a recap unless it has relevance to that episode. also the whole muse storyline was too rushed and tied up too neatly, I think bastian may have been a copycat or maybe hired by vanessa but I don't think bastian was the real muse and daniel is clearly a fucking psycho

also I am still in denial about foggy hear me out what if they switched up the vanessa storyline from the comics and brett was the one put foggy into witpro after learning what he knew about the port (with the help of madani) and they all show up next season 🤔 let me be delusional and live my fantasy

I don’t know if frank will be in the next season since they’re doing that solo punisher thing, so i’m wondering if we’re getting a dex and matt team up next season?? the enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that jazz. bc one, dex basically told vanessa it’s always on sight when he sees fisk, and two, if foggy isn’t actually dead, then I feel like matt might be open to letting dex help take down fisk (very reluctantly, but desperate times)

I have so many thoughts and feelings but i’m just so fucking excited to see what they do next now that we have the right team handling this next season but also I have no idea what the fuck to do with myself now

also nick fury, honey, it’s time to come home. another bald man in a sleek suit is trying to take over new york. pls come back to earth and help matt assemble some new besties thx

[vervielle]

Peridot doodles

hiii guys sorry im putting requests on a pause rn because I really want to focus getting better at art and am focusing hard on how i draw specific characters

yap ↓↓↓

im still posting art ofc Tumblr just isnt my biggest center of attention rn

im also becoming more experimental with what I casually post. like i have a problem with uploading EVERYTHING I create so i want to stop doing that. basically everything I've made since Feb has been specifically made with posting it to Tumblr in mind and its became a self-made prison lol

im still young and new to posting my art online, ive never really properly learned how to have a healthy balance between personal art and public art, so im teaching myself as i go

im really trying to get better, and recently ive only been drawing to post, not to actually improve. but now its my main focus (Tumblr is my 2nd main focus)

anywaaaysss im still here just almost constantly arting because i so very want to improve so i can be happy with what I create

Thank u (〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)

[nyxreads]

We have the right to be angry and upset and "spiraling" because BB is spreading misinformation to please the Elriels.

"You slew the King of Hybern," Gwyn repeated. "With the shadowsinger's knife." "Luck and rage," Nesta admitted.

Nesta killed the King. Not Elain.

Bloomsbury askd for fans fav moments and they sent Elain killing the King which isn't canon.

Elriels have a go at Gwynriels and Eluciens for sending "non canon" scenes and then they do this.

It is so misleading to the books. Imagine seeing this bracket before reading ACOTAR. How confusing!

Because It has been stated several times that Nesta is the Kingslayer. Not Elain.

Elain herself even says she doesn't Kill him.

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said. Elain studied the trees ahead. “Nesta did. I just stabbed him.”

What is not getting through to you people?

Lmfao, "to please Elriels" do you think we're holding them hostage? We're that powerful? That our words and support shakes them? Do you think BB—one of the biggest publisher—cares about shipwar and fandom? Can you hear how silly you sound?

If they are pleasing Elriels then they'd announce the book last 2021 especially when the shipwar was worse and most of us are leaving the fandom.

Also, Elain killing the KoH isn't an Elriel moment. It is Elain's. We were happy FOR ELAIN not for Elriel. That's the problem tho, you lots have such a big problem crediting Elain's biggest moment. Bet you even participated on the Elain Week last month and still here crying on Elriels' inbox.

Elain killing the KoH is canon

BB isn't stupid to post an incorrect information on their page. Because of great indenial and tantrum you're implying that BB is stupid and wouldn't stand a chance over a small portion of SJM's general readers.

I don't know how old are you but take a sit down and have some decency and shame, maybe also a reminder that your every whim will do nothing but show how immature y'all can be. Like telling BB they are wrong? Girl, the audacity really. Go take a break and touch some grass. Really, this is a serious advise, y'all need some time off from social media.

Idk why this is such a big deal for you lots tho, like chill, it's just a bracket for the 10th anniversary and the first thing you thought of is to spam BB and tell them they are wrong. Get a good life.

[wyrdwisewoman]

This person blocked me after I responded, so let me respond here.

Their comment (& no I am not blocking out their name):

My reaponse:

From your reply I can tell that you did not understand my post so it's difficult to respond to you because you went off on a tangent that I did not go that being said I will address a few points that you brought up.

You are talking about race being fluid. I never declared that. We are literally having two different conversations. People who claim that their race is fluid are people who try to claim that they can change their race in this current incarnation in this current reality in their current bodies and that is impossible. That is not what I am talking about.

Shifting is shifting your spirit from this plane of reality, this Dimension, to another. Your spirit is the only thing that moves. Not your DNA. Not your blood ancestors in this Dimension and reality. Your spirit. Seems like you are a bit confused as to what shifting is or perhaps you're talking about a different type of Shifting or something else entirely- again you started talking about something from the get-go that I wasn't talking about so it's a little hard to follow your comment.

Now on to the major thing that I had the biggest problem with about your response.

Your experience is not the rule. Your messages from your deities do not apply to everyone. They were meant for you and therefore only apply to you. Saying "well, my deities told me XYZ, so you're wrong" is the same thing as someone saying, "Well, the Bible says this, so you're wrong." Your practice, your religion, your spirituality is just that- yours. When it comes to divination or receiving messages from the spirit or from deities or whatever you want to call it, those messages are meant for the person receiving them they are given in a way that the person receiving them can understand.

This is a big point of contention and today's spiritual Community because a lot of people make a lot of money off claiming that they can give people messages from the other side from deities or from Spirits and they can't.

This is a shortcut to spirituality- getting somebody else to do the "heavy lifting" for you, when in reality everyone is capable of connecting to the spirit because the spirit is our true form. It just takes work to unlearn all of the things that Society has taught us that push us further away from that connection.

So, what you end up with is people who put themselves in positions of "Authority" by claiming that they have received messages from deity or from Spirits or from something on the other side and then they use those claims and messages that they've received and that they've interpreted througg their own capacity and biases to then try to push those ideals or things that they have learned on to others as some sort of law for everyone. Or even worse, they interpret messages and then they give them to somebody as "for them". In truth what you find is a lot of times whenever you get psychic readings from other people or tarot card readings or divination readings from other people, a lot of times those things are not going to feel like they fit for you and that's because they're not meant for you; they're meant for the person actually receiving the message. Or in some cases it is a message that's meant for the person that's asking for it however a divinator is a filter they interpret those messages through their own biases and their own mental capability of understanding the information that they're given therefore when they pass that message along it might not be the true message that's intended for the person it's receiving it it might be filtered through those capabilities and biases. This is why I personally for me I avoid getting any sort of divination messages from anyone else or at the very least I use the rule of:

If it feels right, it is right.

You have to use your own discretion. What feels right to you is right for you. That does not mean that it's right and Universal for everyone in every experience.

When your immediate response to somebody else is "well my deities or my Spirit guides told me XYZ and therefore you're wrong." You are attempting to place rules and constraints based on your experience and biases on somebody else's spiritual experiences and that puts you in the wrong immediately. Immediately whatever point that you were trying to make is negated, you have lost all credibility. It is also extremely misleading and confusing for people who are new to the spiritual path and journey. And it's also extremely toxic.

I hope that going forward you reflect on this and take it to heart before you unknowingly do damage to somebody else's spiritual journey and your own.

Now, that soapbox is over. Let me get to the next point.

Just because this is your first life doesn't mean that others haven't been around for much longer in many forms. What you don't get to do is tell somebody that their experience is not reality.

Past Lives are very much a reality. Many people have experienced them. There is extensive research and evidence over them, in the scientific community, psychology, and even government agencies from around the world. It also shows up in many theologies from around the world. This is a fact. Not an opinion. That being said, you can choose to not believe a fact but that doesn't make you right. I think we can all safely say that this is true after all it's something that we see everyday in the media, and why fact checking is so important for ALL information that we take in.

This brings me to my final point, which circles back to my original point in my original post that got lost through your tangent reply-

Knowing that reincarnation and past lives is a fact, with evidence supported in the scientific and spiritual communities, and knowing how old humanity is- not to mention those who have had lives on other planets- If you think everyone is only reborn as 1 race, you are very mistaken.

Therefore, whenever you are shifting realities, IE (just so we're on the same page) when you are moving your spirit and your Consciousness to another plane of existence another parallel universe where a different physical body and history of that physical body resides, it can be in any shape or form.

This is because the Multiverse and quantum theory states that all realities are existing at the same time. All realities. Not just all realities where you look and genetically are descended from the same ancestral line but all realities.

This is supported once again by the scientific community and also by the spiritual community.

It is a fact.

Now that being said, just because it is a universal fact doesn't mean that you personally have experienced it and that it applies to you. That is your own personal experience and only you know that.

But again what you don't get to do is tell other people that they're experiences are invalid because you don't like them or because you don't believe them or because your Spirit guides or your deities told you so.

That just makes you icky. A self-righteous. And a bit egotistical to think that you're have all the answers to the universe.

Ick.

People who say that nationality, race, gender, sexual orientation, or anything else cannot or should not be changed whenever somebody shifts is not ready to talk about past lives and how you have literally been everything and anything and anyone.

I remember being male. I remember being a gay male, a straight male with a wife and kids. I have been women from all parts of the globe.

And so have you.

The thing is, we are incapable of understanding the full scope of reality. We're just barely scratching the surface. The same can be said about our understanding of time. We know now that time is not linear - that all time: past, present, and future exists simultaneously. Therefore, all of those people who you have been in a past life, you currently are still them.

The only divisions among us are those that are created by social constructs. And police by us or members of society that choose to believe in them and uphold them, that's it. Does it make them true. In fact in most cases social constructs are proven to be completely false prime example of that is the idea of genders versus sexes. One is biological dictated by chromosomes, mutations, and genetic variations of hormones and many other things we are just understanding- and the other is a social construct.

We are all the same, you, me, and everyone else. We're all the same consciousness. All of your experiences past, present, and future are currently going on at the same time- for all time. Just as everyone else's is. Reality is this:

There are no barriers. No limitations. No rules.

Follow your heart. Do what feels right, because it is.

[ageingfangirl2]

Hazbin Hotel x Child Reader Series

PART 17 - THE GREAT DUCK HEIST PART 1

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

It had only been a few days, and already the duck phone had taken over the kid’s life. Alastor hated it. They were constantly staring at the screen, watching duck videos on loop, taking pictures of random things, and worst of all? They had started ignoring Alastor’s stories.

That was the final straw. And the worst part? Angel Dust was actively encouraging it.

‘Yeah, kid, that’s it! Get real deep into that screen life! You gotta take selfies with the perfect lighting—here, lemme show ya!’

‘Angel, you’re corrupting them,’ Charlie groaned, watching the two pose dramatically for the duck phone’s high-definition camera.

‘Nah, babe, I’m educating them,’ Angel winked.

Alastor gritted his teeth, ‘This has to stop. That foul—and I do mean that in every sense of the word—piece of technology is undoubtedly being used by Vox to spy on the hotel!’

Charlie sighed, ‘Al, I think you might be paranoid—’

Vaggie cut in, ‘No, he’s probably right. I wouldn’t put it past Vox to bug that thing.’

Charlie groaned again, ‘Okay, fine, but we can’t just take it away without the kid freaking out!’

Alastor’s grin widened, ‘Oh, my dear Charlotte, that’s where you’re wrong! We simply have to be creative about it.’

Charlie immediately regretted this conversation.

Phase One: The Distraction

Vaggie, begrudgingly agreeing to help, casually approached the kid, ‘Hey, uh… you wanna learn more self-defense moves?’

The kid looked up from their duck phone, eyes lighting up, ‘Oh! Yeah! Can I learn the one where I kick someone really hard?’

Vaggie smirked, ‘Oh, absolutely.’

And just like that, the kid put down the duck phone and ran off with Vaggie to practice some questionable combat moves. Target temporarily abandoned.

Phase Two: The Extraction

Alastor and Charlie immediately moved in. Alastor grabbed the duck phone off the table and squinted at it suspiciously.

‘Hmm… What do you think, Charlotte? Should I simply crush it under my heel? Ooooor perhaps throw it into an interdimensional void?’

Charlie snatched it away, ‘NO! We can’t just destroy it, Al! That would just make them upset!’

Alastor pouted, ‘A shame. I was looking forward to watching it die.’

Charlie rubbed her temples, ‘Look, let’s just hide it somewhere and tell them it got lost. After a few days, they’ll forget about it.’

Alastor wasn’t convinced, but before they could argue, Angel Dust appeared.

Phase Three: The Interception

‘AYYY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOIN’?’

Charlie and Alastor froze.

Angel gasped dramatically, pointing at the duck phone in Charlie’s hands, ‘OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD—YOU’RE STEALIN’ THE KID’S PHONE!’

Charlie panicked, ‘Shhh!! Angel, shut up!’

Alastor hissed, ‘You buffoon! Do you want to ruin everything?’

Angel snatched the phone out of Charlie’s hands and held it protectively, ‘Nuh-uh! I ain’t lettin’ you two ruin the kid’s fun!’

Charlie groaned, ‘Angel, you don’t get it—Vox could be spying on us.’

Angel snorted, ‘Pfft, who cares? If Vox wants to watch me look fabulous, that’s his own damn problem.’

Alastor’s eye twitched violently, but before the argument could escalate, a very small voice spoke up from behind them.

‘Wait… what’s going on?’

The group froze and slowly turned. The kid was standing there, looking at them suspiciously.

Phase Four: The Cover Up

Alastor immediately put on his biggest, most innocent smile, ‘Ahh! Nothing at all, dear! Just making sure your little device is safe!’

Charlie nodded aggressively, ‘Yep! We were just… uh… CLEANING IT! Making sure it’s all nice and polished.’

The kid narrowed their eyes, ‘…Are you guys trying to steal my duck phone?’

Angel pointed dramatically at Charlie and Alastor, ‘YES! YES, THEY ARE!’

Charlie smacked him.

Alastor grumbled, rubbing his temple, ‘Listen, darling, this horrible little machine is likely being used by Vox to spy on us! Surely you wouldn’t want that, would you?’

The kid paused, ‘…Oh.’

Alastor perked up, ‘Yes! You see! It’s for your own safety!’

The kid took a deep breath…And then let out the loudest, most obnoxious quack from their phone.

QUAAAAAAAAACK.

The sound echoed through the entire hotel. Charlie’s soul left her body. Alastor visibly cringed. Angel was wheezing with laughter.

The kid held their duck phone close, eyes narrowed in suspicion, ‘You guys are not taking my duck phone.’

Then they ran off with it.

Alastor groaned dramatically, falling back into a chair, ‘CURSE YOU, TECHNOLOGY!’

Charlie sighed, slumping against the wall.

Angel smirked, ‘Looks like the kid ain’t buyin’ your boomer agenda.’

Alastor glared at him, ‘Mark my words, Angel Dust—I will have my revenge.’

Angel just quacked at him with the phone and walked off.

Alastor visibly twitched. This was far from over.

[scribblecon]

the fort max fic was so cute!! 😭😭 I’d definitely love to see a part 2 (maybe where he and the reader get some time to interact with each other one-on-one? perhaps max finally gets a chance to pet them) if you’re up for it c:

How can I refuse? I love the big guy so much 😭

A Minor Fascination Part 2

SFW, fluff, GN reader

—

Fort Max suppresses a groan. He can see you staring at him and the perplexed look on your tiny face is, frankly, adorable. The urge to cross the room and squish your cheeks is real, but he resists. He looks away. He will not make a fool of himself again.

It feels like there’s some kind of role reversal going on. Up until a few days ago, Fortress Maximus was staring at you whenever you were in the same room as him. Now, ever since his stilted greeting and abrupt exit, you’re the one staring at him. The way he tries to subtly turn away from you whenever he catches your eye makes you think he’s too embarrassed to speak with you again. Not that you can blame him, but the other bots have been teasing you and it’s getting on your nerves. If he has a problem with you, best resolve it sooner rather than later. When Max makes his way to the bar’s exit, you’re ready and waiting.

“Fortress Maximus!” You call out to him as he walks past your table. He turns, frowning, until he realises it’s you and you swear his optics widen just a little bit. “Could you give me a ride? My hab’s a bit far to walk by myself.” You give him a grin that you hope comes across as sheepish, definitely not singling him out on purpose.

He stares down at you hesitantly, then looks to the ‘bots sharing your table. Surely one of them could- slag. Chromedome, Rewind and Tailgate. Three of the biggest lightweights on the ship and none of them look fit to drive right now. He sighs in resignation and holds a servo out for you, which you gladly clamber onto with thanks. Fort Max does his best not to react to the sensation of your tiny frame in his palm. How are you so small? So soft? Slowly, he lifts you until you’re cupped against his chest, making absolutely certain you’re secure, before he starts walking.

The two of you traverse the Lost Light in silence for several minutes, you enjoy the view peeking over Max’s hand from where he’s holding you, definitely higher up than any shoulder perch you’ve experienced with other ‘bots so far, and making the most of being surrounded by the heat radiating off his frame. Maximus, meanwhile, is trying to focus on finding your habitation suite, but is preoccupied with anxiety. Doesn’t want to drop you by accident. It is only when you reach an empty stretch of hallway that you speak up.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until we get to your quarters?” Max keeps looking ahead. He knows where this is going.

“No, because I think you’ll drop me off and then immediately leave.” You look up at him, trying to make eye contact. Even when held against his chest, his face seems miles away. God he is massive. “I want to know why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been staring at me practically non-stop for two weeks. Also, that introduction of yours the other day…”

Fortress Maximus stops walking, opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. Frag. The botched interaction was one thing, but he really thought he was being subtle before that.

“I promise I will explain. When we get to your room. I can’t-” His voice drops to a near whisper. “I can’t talk about it out here.”

“Okay…” Eyeing him sceptically, you sit down in his servo and lean against his chest. “Let me know when you get there.”

—

“This is your hab suite, correct?”

You look over Fort Max’s giant hand to see a number and a door. Giving the affirmative, the two of you enter your room and he gently deposits you on the desk. You waste no time in looking for answers.

“Time to ‘fess up. What’s going on with you?”

Watching him deliberate on how to answer, shifting his weight slightly, you can’t help finding his awkwardness around you slightly charming.

“Your hair.”

“Pardon?”

“I… wanted to touch your hair. But I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you.” Fort Max looks away from you to his servos. “You look so soft but you’re just so… tiny.”

That’s… kind of sweet of him, actually. Even if he did just admit he wants to pet you like a dog. You give him a sympathetic look.

“I appreciate the restraint, but you could have just asked.”

Max looks back to you. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Only if we redo our introductions. You ran off before I could tell you my name the other day.”

“Yeah,” He allows a small smile to cross his face. “Okay.” The smile falls when he hears you stifle a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just— that’s what you said last time, too.” You take a moment to compose yourself, then stick out a hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Y/N. Pleased to meet you.”

“My name is Fortress Maximus.” He reaches a digit out to meet your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Okay, now that’s out the way…” You crouch down next to Max’s outstretched digit. “Stay still.”

“What are you do- oh.” Fort Max vents as you lean your head against his finger. It’s even softer than he imagined. He closes his optics, focussing on the sensation. Can feel some of the anxiety that has been gnawing at his spark since First Aid jump started him fade.

You admittedly feel a bit silly, rubbing the side of your head against a giant robot finger like a cat marking its scent on something. But said robot doesn’t want to hurt you and there is a real risk of him doing exactly that if he isn’t careful. He’s certainly more self aware of that risk than other ‘bots you can think of. So this is the workaround for now.

“You know, if you want to hold me or feel my hair again.” You stop moving, and place your hands atop Max’s digit, looking up at him. “You can let me know. I’m cool with it.”

Fortress Maximus opens his optics and looks down at you. How are you so kind to a mech like him?

“I think… I would like to hold you again.”

You smile up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, okay.”

He sighs, the corners of his lips twitching as you collapse into giggles and he scoops you into his servos as gently as he can. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

—

previous

[itsgivingeattherich]

Fluffy Scandal Hawks (Keigo Takami)

Hey pookie I got mail 💌

Keigo was a pro hero. If the constant screams when he darted in the skies didn't show you, then his face plastered on nearly every sports brand would. He was the sight to see, always making it on top of the hottest bachelors list in Tokyo.

There was absolutely nothing this man could do, without it getting clipped and posted on the internet, backed with slow sexy music that intensified imaginary sexual tension.

The public knew all of his secrets, 'Hawks being too friendly with a girl he saved' or 'Hawks sneaking around with a man. Caught on Camera'. Those kinda headlines decorated magazines and online blogs. Breaking hearts throughout Japan. 'How could he do this to me?' Was usually what the comments cried, pleading with him to stop his fraternising, and instead indulge in a sickly sweet romance with them.

It was laughable really, how people fell to their knees, confessing their deepest pleasures online in hopes that he might see it. The blog you really kept up with was a woman called Sara, she was absolutely mental, always posting her plans of "secret" meetings with hawks, and certain services she'd provide. She once even went as far as trying to break into his home, obviously only leaving with a fine and an arrest instead of his toothbrush.

Occasionally, he'd leave a like or two just to ruffle a few feathers and give hope to the masses. However, no matter how intrusive his fans were, no matter how much information they thought they had, they would never know about his biggest scandal.

You.

Well, nothing about your relationship could be considered a scandal. You weren't a pro hero he would sneak about and hook up with in dark alley ways. Neither were you a villain, who would kill civilians by day, then suck the same hero's dick that captured you by night. Unfortunately, that was the problem, you were ordinary, your quirk wasn't interesting, your personality was bland, everything about you screamed average. That's what made you meeting him so special, he was so different than you.

You giggled reading those comments, knowing you were what he'd come home to, and love. It was a routine you guys had, on week days he'd fly in, give you a kiss, take a shower and you'd both be in each others arms until dawn broke. In the morning though, when you woke up there'd be an empty space beside you, his scent still lingering. When you got yourself dolled up to get to work, a post-it note would greet you daily, always different lovely messages scratched on with the shitty hand writing ever.

'You'll do great today.'

'Kick some ass.'

'I'll cook dinner tonight.'

Not all relationships were perfect, and yours was far from it, but as you stood here clutching a yellow post-it note with a message that spread butterflies in your stomach, you wondered if there was another word to use inplace of perfect to describe this.

If only that was it. If only you just left it there. If only you didn't glance at his phone while he was in the shower.

If only you didn't scroll down to open up an array of messages. Dates you recognised as times he just couldn't come home, too "busy" with hero work...

"when are you coming over age babes? I miss your cock."

'Soon baby. Soon'

-Signed Sara

ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠 ℙ𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕝 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕒𝕨𝕜𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕨😚, 𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙. (𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕕😈). 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕠𝕣 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨.

[phaedo]

watching nanowrimo defending ai blow up after years of abuse and mismanagement from nano hq is like watching every writer on the internet go "i can excuse rampant forum moderation abuse on two different websites but i draw the line at machine that helps you write"

[butchratchettruther]

The vibe I’m getting from the fandom rn