#but like. someone just used image descriptions as a way to like. make a joke????

[fagdykevash]

ik i need to pick and chose my battles but like. what the fuck

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

[describe-things]

This post is made with speech to text because my hand hurts from typing so much today. Please forgive any typos or speech to text swapping similar sounding words.

If you would like to start writing your own image descriptions, feel free to ask any questions.

The main things to keep in mind is that they should begin with some variation of image description start or ID, and end with some variation of image description and, and ID or something like that. This distinguish the image description from the caption or anything else.

Image descriptions should not be written in italics, bold, all caps, or any colors. If text in the image is in all caps, write it in regular case, and simply note before or after it that it's in all caps.

Image descriptions should describe all images in the post, without skipping any. This includes images that are nothing but text.

Plain text image descriptions in the body of the post are more accessible than alt text alone, because many people who need image descriptions cannot use alt text, and Tumblr is known for its glitches, so the accessibility of the alt text all by itself varies widely over time.

It is more accessible to have the image descriptions indented than not, because this helps to visually separate the image description from the caption. Having brackets or parentheses at the end is also helpful for this. This allows people to easily distinguish between the caption and the image description if they need to.

If you are an artist, writing image descriptions for your art will give you full control over the image description, and will allow you to correctly identify details that others might miss. This gives you the opportunity to show which parts of your art hold meaning to you and are important to notice.

If you are describing real people who are unknown to you, unless it is specified within the post or you are already aware, please do not assign any gendered terms to them, or any " male presenting or female presenting" terms like that. This is completely unnecessary and leads to misgendering. It is best to simply describe visible facts about the people. Hair color, length, clothes and style, pose, expression, the light or darkness of their skin, things like that. Do not assume that someone is white simply because they have light skin.

Do not use image descriptions to lie to the audience in any way and do not use image descriptions to make jokes where the audience reading the image description is the butt of the joke.

As an example, if there is a very clearly fake screenshot, do not say that it is simply a screenshot, or if a photo is very blatantly photoshopped, do not say that it is simply a photo. Say an edited photo, a badly edited photo, a screenshot with editing, something like that to indicate the changes have been made and then what you are going to be describing is not the natural version.

As an example, you would say a crab photoshopped to be driving a car. Rather than a photo of a crab driving a car.

Unless you are transcribing a text within the image, do not use meme speak within image descriptions. Do not refer to dogs as doggos for example, unless it is to specify that the dog in the image is, within the image, labeled as a doggo. Do not describe someone walking downstairs as breasted bubbly downstairs, even if it is an actor humorously walking down the stairs to imitate that sentence. Describe the facts of the movements, and then you can make the comparison for clarity.

If someone adds an image description to your post whether this be an original post or a reblog that you have added an image to, it doesn't matter how many notes to post already has, please copy and paste that image description into the original post or your original reblog. If it is a new post that has only a few notes from friends, after you update the original, you can just ask your friends to delete the reblogs of the inaccessible version and reblog the new one. Most people who are good people and care about disabled people will happily do so.

Keep in mind that image descriptions are accessibility tools. Treat them as such.

Anyone can write image descriptions. You do not need any special qualifications or training. As long as you are willing to take constructive criticism if you make a mistake, an image description written by someone who's new to it and honestly doing their best with good intentions is better than no image description at all.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some things, so please feel free to add on more tips and advice.

[slimybeth69]

"i'll be here."

rating: explicit- for drinking and joel's dirty thoughts. This is pure fluff NO SMUT and it's probably kinda corny but I DON'T CARE.

summary: Joel wants to make sure your New Years Eve isn't lonely.

tags: jackson!joel, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, no physical description (just an outfit) fluff, so much fluff, pining, age gap, him being handsome and perfect, mentions of food, drinking, being intoxicated so maybe dub-con (but not really)

w/c: ~3.6k

a/n: the holiday was hard as hell this year and it really didn't feel like christmas at all, so i wrote this for myself because i was sad. i hope any of you all that needed Joel to come and sing you songs and play gui-tar find some comfort in this.

thanks for @creepycorbeaux for reading this over. thanks to @thelastofgala for those beautiful gifs and thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Joel wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing walking to your house with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and his guitar in the other, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said last night on patrol. 

“Whaddya end up doin’ f’Christmas?” 

The face you make when you look over at him almost makes Joel smirk for a split second. The way your nose scrunches and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly. Like you’re confused and upset with him ,and all he did was ask you a simple question.

Then you respond, “Whachya mean?” 

Joel doesn’t know how to answer that because… what do you mean? Your eyes are still squinted— like there is some sort of distrust in your soul. Like Joel is playing a joke on you right now.

“Uh, well… Ellie and I went to Tommy and Maria’s...” Joel is uncomfortable suddenly; he forgets that not everyone is as lucky as he is to have family here in Jackson. He doesn’t know you nearly well enough, so now he feels like an ass. He shouldn’t be asking you anything like that.

Or anything at all not pertaining to patrol. 

You don’t say anything for a while, you just hold onto the strap of your rifle over your shoulder, and then adjust your grasp on the reins with your other hand. “I just stayed home,” you answer him quietly, almost like you don’t really want him to hear you. “Made myself a nice dinner, read a book and went to bed.” 

That ‘put your foot in your mouth’ feeling creeps into Joel’s stomach and he wants to ask if you’d like to give him a nice rocket to his left jaw. He doesn’t stay quiet for too long, he doesn’t want you sitting in this awkward smog he’s created. “That doesn’t sound t’bad, honestly. Whaddya make?” 

Joel watches you out of the corner of his eye as you once again adjust the reins in your hand, waiting for you to either respond to his question or tell him to shut the fuck up. 

He wishes you would tell him to screw off because he never tries to make small talk, and this is why! He always regrets it!

“Just a venison roast with veggies from the greenhouse.” You finally tell him with a little more life in your voice this time, like you were actually proud of what you cooked yourself. “What did you and Ellie do at Tommy and Maria’s?” 

“Had a few drinks, ate some food. Nothin’ crazy.”

Joel didn’t have the heart to tell you that Tommy and him spent most of the day drinking and reminiscing, laughing about being young, stupid kids. Or that Ellie and Maria baked all day, listening to Christmas music someone had found a while ago. He didn’t wanna subject you to all that, knowing now you were home alone.

Since that night on patrol, Joel can’t get the image of you sitting at home on a holiday all by yourself. 

Probably being sad. 

There isn’t any particular reason why he feels so compelled to come knock on your door, there are plenty of other lonely souls that spend every holiday with no one else around. 

There was just a pull. Something inside of him that said go go go. 

Go to her.

He doesn’t really even know what he’s going to say to you if you decide to open the door for him. Hell, he’s not sure you’re even going to let him in! You’ve only ever gone on two patrols together. Y’all never really talk outside of that, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t see you around.

Not like he’s looking for you, or anything. 

When he knocks, it’s like his heart might hammer right out of his chest. Why is he so nervous? He’s just here to offer you a couple drinks so you don’t have to ring in the new year all alone. 

Ellie was with Dina and the rest of her friends, Tommy and Maria wanted to call it an early night because of the baby, and so Joel had two options: the bar, or sitting at home alone. 

It’s not that Joel didn’t like being alone. He had been alone since Tess, and that was still something he didn’t like to think about too much.

Too much loss for not enough of — whatever they had been. Losing her had almost been the final nail in the coffin, and if it hadn’t been for Ellie -

Don’t think about it.

Now Joel finds himself on your front porch, holding the screen door open with his large frame, and knocking lightly with the ass end of the bottle of whiskey.

From inside he can hear you moving around. His breath hitches in his throat when you finally open up for him. Joel watches your eyes scan him very quickly, taking in the picture in front of you. Your eyes go wide for a second like you don’t understand why he’s here.

Joel Miller on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey and his guitar. 

“Whaddya doin’ here?” 

Joel holds the bottle up for you to inspect closer as you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to hide from him. 

Joel’s never seen you without your winter jacket, hat and gloves. Right now in your house, you have on a blue sweater, a pair of tight elastic tights that Joel wishes he could see you in more often, and the warmest looking socks he has ever seen.

His eyes scan the length of your body again involuntarily. His gaze lingers on your pants once again– so tight and they hug your curves (that Joel didn’t even know you had) in all the right ways.  

“Well, I reckon I came over here hopin’ you had cooked another roast, since it sounded so damn good when you told me ‘bout it on patrol–”

Joel continues his bullshit rambles about why he came over here as you start to smirk, and take a step back so the door can swing open a little wider and he can make his way in.

“The guitar?” You ask as Joel toes off his boots so he doesn’t track snow through your house. He hands you the bottle of whiskey, shifting the guitar between his hands as he takes off his jacket. 

“Figur’d if you wanted to share any of the food you made– I could share the whiskey… maybe play a lil gui-tar for ya.”

The last time he played the guitar for anyone besides Ellie– Sarah was still alive. 

Who is this man?

There was just something about the way you said ‘I just stayed home’. Joel was thinkin’ maybe you didn’t read a book and go to bed. 

Maybe you cried a little, missing whatever you remember from home. 

Joel knows all about that, all about the sleepless nights when you just can’t turn your brain off. You can’t stop thinking about the people that are no more, about how different things are now and how you’d give anything for them to go back to the way they used to be. 

Joel has Ellie and Tommy. Who do you have?

“You’re in luck because I did cook tonight,” you’re smiling at him and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you smile, too. 

So many firsts for Joel, he feels like a teenager as you lead him further into your house - which is clean and smells phenomenally good - and into the kitchen. 

Joel hadn’t expected you to actually offer him food, he didn’t know if you cooked dinners like that for yourself all the time, or only on special occasions. 

You take the guitar from him and pull out a chair at your kitchen table. For a moment he feels like his brain malfunctions and he’s not sure how to react. 

“You can sit,” You’re already in your living room. “I’m just gonna…” Then you trail off. 

When Joel peers around the corner to check on you, you’re very carefully leaning the guitar against the wall, holding your hands out to catch it in case it leans too far one way or the other.

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest and neck as he watches you, slightly bent at the waist. The tightness of your pants— 

Nope.

Once you’re satisfied that the guitar won’t fall, you turn around and smile at him, even though he’s just standing there watching you like an idiot– blushing!

Blushing?

Part of him thinks this was the worst idea he ever had. How could you be doing this to him and you’ve done absolutely nothing? 

He should go home. 

“Sit!” You urge him to take a seat at the table while you basically prance into the kitchen to start serving him a plate. Everything is still sitting on the stove in the pots you cooked in.

You explain that you already ate because you weren’t expecting company. 

Joel almost tells you not to worry about the food, but then what would he do? Play guitar for three hours? Getting drunk and talking all night seems like a terrible idea. 

What the fuck was he thinking? This was the dumbest thing he’s ever done, it really was. 

He shuts his mouth though when you set down a plate of steaming food in front of him. 

“Dig in! I have more than enough if you want a second plate.” 

The way you talk so casually, like you’ve known Joel your whole life while you walk back into the kitchen makes him jealous. 

How are you so nice? Sweet? 

You haven’t even been here for four months and this is the first time either of you have said more than ten words to each other that didn’t have to do with patrol. 

It’s the way your body moves when you walk without all your winter gear on. You sway… almost like you’re floating.

Knock it off, old man. She’s half your age. 

Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut for two seconds until he hears your feet padding back to the table. When he opens them, you’re pushing one of the glasses in his direction.

“You brought the booze, so you have to pour it.” 

The smile on your face makes Joel feel a mix of pride and guilt. 

What are you expecting of him? He can’t give you more than just tonight. He knows that, he hopes you know that too.

Joel opens the bottle and pours each of you a decent, sippable glass.He should have poured himself less. 

Probably should have poured you less.

The food tastes better than Joel’s had in years. He even finds himself asking for seconds, something he rarely does.

You’re making small talk as he eats, asking about his travels and how long he’s been in Jackson. If he likes it here, how old is his daughter.

Joel decides not to tell you that Ellie isn’t really his daughter, because biologically she isn’t, but it hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

As he eats, and you chat, Joel starts to relax a little. Your presence is calming, and he finds himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would. He pours both of you another drink, his regrets of pouring less last time completely forgotten.

The food is gone and you’ve cleared his plate. But the two of you are still sitting at the kitchen table. He’s not sure if it’s the fact that this is another first— seeing you up close like this. In the light of your kitchen Joel can really take in your features; your cheeks when you smile, and the way your eyes light up when you laugh at some dumb joke he tells.

You ask him about his life before the outbreak, and Joel hesitates before giving a very brief summary of his past. He doesn’t like talking about it all, and he avoids bringing Sarah up completely.

Not tonight. Probably not ever.

You listen attentively and ask Joel questions that show you’re actually interested in what he’s saying.

Joel continues to pour the two of your drinks each time your glasses are empty and you never tell him to stop. You suggest moving to the living room where it’s more comfortable, and Joel agrees without hesitation.

Go home. This is going to end badly.

There is a fire going in your fireplace, and Joel can’t sit down until he puts another log or two on, and he has to move some things around to get it going again.

“I can do it myself,” you say from directly behind him, sounding a little offended.

Joel doesn't even look at you when he responds, "I know you can. Just helpin'."

When he finally turns around, you quickly look away. Joel can’t help but smirk and feel that familiar in his lower belly.

Had you been staring at him?

Joel watches as you sink down into the brown leather couch, curling up with your feet underneath you. He settles beside you with just enough distance to be polite.

“What songs do ya’ know?” Your voice is soft and your words are slightly slurred. The alcohol has definitely started to affect you, but Joel doesn’t think you’re that drunk yet.

Joel looks at the clock on your wall and it reads 10:45 PM. He can do this. An hour and fifteen minutes left, then Joel can escape.

Not that he wants to. He has to or something bad is going to happen. Something he regrets. 

Something you might regret. 

But when you ask him about songs, he can’t help but smile. The alcohol is going down too easily, way too easy for both of you.

Joel clears his throat. "Whaddya wanna hear?"

You shrug, your cute blue sweater sliding off one shoulder. Joel has to fight himself to keep his eyes on your face as you mindlessly tug the sweater up. It’s like you didn’t even realize it happened. You kept your eyes on him the entire time.

"Somethin' that makes you happy."

The fact that you’re moving your feet to tuck your toes underneath Joel’s right thigh is sending electric shocks to his brain. He leans and grabs the guitar off the wall– careful to not move too much so he can keep the contact between the two of you. 

Shit. What is he getting himself into?

Joel holds the guitar, fingers tracing the old wooden curves. It's been a while since he's played at all. The strings feel ice cold under his calloused hands.

Joel strum a couple cords, “Know a few songs,” he says, clearing his throat. “Might be a lil rusty though,” he smirks at you and gives you a sideways glance. 

You smile from behind your whiskey glass and Joel feels something shift inside him. Something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

Something dangerous.

Your eyes are glittering in the firelight— different than they had looked in the artificial light of your kitchen. It casts a warm glow across your face, softening the edges that Joel has only ever seen sharp and alert on patrol.

He clears his throat once again and continues to move his fingers along the frets. The first few notes come out slightly off-key, but Joel quickly finds his rhythm. He starts with a Garth Brooks song.

Joel knows he’s not the best at the guitar and he doesn’t play it nearly as often now that Ellie is so busy with her own life. 

You don’t seem to mind, and sometimes Joel misses a chord or messes up completely because he can’t stop glancing over to watch you watching him.

He starts to sing, his voice low and gravelly. It's not a perfect voice - never was - but there's something raw and honest in the way the words tumble out.

… Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair The last one to know, the last one to show I was the last one you thought you'd see there

You shift slightly, your toes still tucked under his thigh, and Joel catches you watching his hands. Even as he continues to sing. You never take your eyes off of him. Not once.

… 'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away And I'll be OK Yeah, I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places

Joel's voice falters for a moment when he notices the concentration of your gaze. His fingers momentarily stagger on the guitar strings, creating a clashing note that lingers in the air for a moment before he continues.

You don't seem to notice, or care. Your eyes are locked on his hands, watching how they move across the guitar with a kind of reverence that makes Joel's breath catch. 

Joel finishes the song, letting the last chord ring out softly in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of you moves. You're still watching him, your eyes heavy-lidded from the whiskey, but there's something else there too.

Joel’s eyes fall on the clock on your wall and it’s only 11.

He’s completely fucked.

Joel becomes acutely aware of how close you are.

Your toes are still tucked under his leg, and the warmth of your body seeps through the denim of his jeans. Joel swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

"Another song?" you ask, your voice soft and slightly husky from the whiskey.

Joel clears his throat. "Sure," he manages, repositioning the guitar.

Joel starts strumming again, this time a slower, more mournful tune. His fingers find the familiar chords of an old country ballad, something he used to play for Sarah when she was real little. Before the weight of being a single dad started to apply pressure.

The memories threaten to overtake him, but he forces them down, focusing instead on the way the light flickers across your face. He can feel the heat of your body against his leg, the whiskey making everything feel soft and blurry around the edges. His voice is lower now, almost a whisper, like he's singing just for you.

Joel sings a couple more songs, a few at your request.

"That was really good," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. There's something in your gaze that makes Joel shiver - it’s a weakness, a longing that mirrors something deep inside himself.

When he looks at the clock again it’s 12:30.

“We completely missed new years,” Joel points to the clock and chuckles. He had completely forgotten that’s why he came over here originally. Once the music started, everything else kind of faded away. 

It was just the two of you while the rest of Jackson, and possibly the rest of the world stopped existing in that short time. 

“I was havin’ a good time,” you’re still smiling at him and now he can see how glassy they are from the whiskey. 

“Y’look like y’were havin’ a good time, darlin’.” Joel smiles and starts to stand up from the couch. It’s not until he’s standing directly in front of you realize what’s happening, Joel watches your eyes shift and change. 

Are you panicking?

“Are… were–” you cut yourself off and shake your head, waving a hand at Joel dismissively. “Nevermind. Thank you for coming over.” When you turn to look at him, your eyes are rimmed with a glossy sheen. The whites of your eyes had turned a hazy shade of red.

“S’wrong?” 

You shrug your shoulders, your sweater falling off your shoulder again. You don’t notice and twirl your whiskey glass in your hand slowly. “Nothin’. I had a good time… just sad you gotta go.” 

Joel knows he shouldn’t, but he gently replaces your sweater, his fingers lingering on the warm skin of your collarbone for a moment before he pulls away. “I’m all outta songs, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t wanna stay?”

Joel swallows hard and then cuts you off, “For what?” Joel whispers it and you snap your head up to look at him, almost as astonished as he is. Joel knows that the liquor and the way you had been looking at him all night is a recipe for disaster. 

Make me leave, please. Kick me out. Don’t ask me to stay again because I won’t be able to say no.

You finish the last of your whiskey before setting your glass down on the coffee table in front of your couch. 

“You know what.” 

“I do… but we’ve been drinkin’... ‘n I don’t want ya’ regretti–”

“What is there to regret?” you whisper. Your hand snakes into his and Joel doesn’t pull his away or nothing. “You gotta know more songs.”

Joel sits down beside you again, sighing loudly like this is a giant inconvenience to him, but a part of him knows that this isn’t going to end–

Not at all. 

Once he takes you upstairs, it’s over for the both of you. It’s like he can taste it in the air. 

“One more,” Joel nods his head at you. “Then I’m leavin’.” 

He and you both know that’s not true. 

His fingers find their holds on the neck of the guitar and he looks over at you before he strums the first note. 

You shy away from him, tucking your toes back under his thigh. Joel lifts his leg slightly so you can slip them deeper under his leg. 

There's no stronger wind than the one that blows Down a lonesome railroad line No prettier sight than looking back On a town you left behind There is nothin' that's as real As your face that's on my mind

Joel changes the lyrics just a little, and he doesn’t know if you notice, or even if you know this song. He's not ready to sing about love, not at all.

He confidently sings you the next part though.

Close your eyes I'll be here in the morning Close your eyes I'll be here for a while

hopefully y'all had a better time than I did.

love you all so so much

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Die Katze und die Maus.

Pt.2

König had a bad day, a bad mission, he was captured by your team, meanwhile your first encounter with a KorTac member is an unforgettable experience, his little games have you asking for more.

Warning ⚠️: spelling and grammar errors everywhere, translator for the German words, long read, there's no physical description about the reader so this could still work for a female or gn reader?, credits of this image go to the Pinterest user: Keira.

By the way, 🩷Thanks🩷 to the people who asked me a second part of this story, I hope you like it. I had much fun writing it.✨

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You think you're becoming paranoid, lately you feel eyes on you all the time, on the other hand you've been very lucky in your missions, you don't believe in superstitions but you started to see König's knife as your lucky charm, even your friends made jokes about it.

«... y/n practically sleeps with that goddamn knife!» «Y/N kisses that knife when no one is watching her»

Of course you pretend it's not funny but in fact you're still thinking, even dreaming about the owner of that knife.

Your captain was not pleased but also not upset with König's escape, at least now they have his name and a short physical description, not very specific, you only described his eyes and scar. You shut your mouth when they asked you how you knew about the scar and the color of his lips.

Your lieutenant, ghost, he doesn't seem happy either, he gets clearly annoyed every time Soap or Gaz and Price make a comment about your new friend.

Of course you tried to talk with him about it but his excuse is always the same «i should have stayed in your place and that guy would be dead now and we wouldn't have to listen how he made you weak so easily».

He always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when he talks about König like that, you feel like you failed your team. In the next missions after that he drags you with him and you do your best to prove you're in the right place.

This mission is very different, undercover mission, all the team is wearing a suit and tie, you, of course, are wearing a dress, not so provocative but at least it is distracting enough to capture the attention of your Target.

You and the captain are walking around looking for the man. Ghost, Soap and Gaz are also around, sitting in the bar, close to the bathroom, close to the principal door.

- If we separate perhaps we can find it faster.

- it's alright, we have time enough, dove.

You smile at him nervously, not because you're nervous, it's just that you don't feel comfortable wearing this kind of clothes, you're accustomed to your uniform and boots.

- You look good, kid.

- Thanks captain, oh... There he is, our target. Let's go.

Both walk to the target, price pretends he's getting drinks while you're waiting, the man approaches you smiling brightly. Both are exchanging words, price joins with the drinks and a hand appears between all of you. A tall man in a black suit, his hair is bright and wavy, then you notice something very familiar, blue eyes and a scar on the lips, silently asking your hand to dance.

You give a quick stare to your captain and he nods, he's too busy trying to make the target finish his drink that he didn't notice who is this guy, while you're walking to the dancefloor you try to look for your other teammates, alerting them but no one's at the sight. Once the music starts, you feel his big hand in your back, the butterflies in your stomach are like crazy inside you but you're trying to play it cool.

- Are you spying on me, König?

- Nein, at least not today Schätzchen (sweetie) my target is in this party too.

- Not today? So in fact you've been spying on me. Who's your target?

You're looking around to find someone who can be a possible target but everybody looks very normal.

- Many questions. I have one for you.

- Go on.

- Where's your boyfriend, Mäuschen (little mouse)?

You stare up at him, clearly surprised, he smirks mockingly.

- Don't try to fool me, schatz, the guy with a skull mask.

- He's not my boyfriend.

- Ahhh, that will make it simpler then.

You're still not understanding what he is trying to say.

- If he was your boyfriend, I was thinking about... You know, eliminate him from the equation, but now you're telling you're single, it's simple.

- Be more specific, König.

- Mäuschen (little mouse), when I said the game started, I was talking about flirting, this is my way to say I like you. I've been keeping an eye on you and seeing your jealous friend dragging you around with him so you don't stay alone, made me think you were with him.

- What if I don't want to play to flirt?

You're trying to dare him, He gets close to your ear, his lips almost touching your skin.

- I know you're lying meine Liebling, I can hear your heartbeat getting faster, your skin shivered when i touched it and your eyes had a nice bright as soon as you discovered it was me and you've been licking and biting your lips since we're here, is Meine Mäuschen (my little mouse) silently asking me to kiss her?

Now both are face to face, your lips and his almost touching, you feel your desire running through your body, invading you, he's smiling, he knows very well what you're feeling. Unfortunately the moment breaks when Ghost appears, clearing his throat, you give a step back, observing both men. König's smile doesn't disappear, he fixes his tie, blinks an eye to you and kisses your hand, then he leaves. You feel like your brain is floating in the air, the sensation of his lips on your hand, Ghost brings you back to reality when he puts his hand on your shoulder.

He asked you if you knew who he was because you and him talked for several minutes, you denied it, your argument was you were merely being friendly with the guy. The mission was successfully, your team obtained the necessary. All of you were leaving when you saw König again. You're walking behind your teammates when someone takes you by the arm, dragging you to a small service closet.

Without wasting time, König smashes his lips with yours, both were hungry for each other, melting. His arms around your waist and hips, your hands around his neck, you can't say how long the kiss was but you knew you would have to find a good lie to justify your absence. After a small pause he cleans your messed lipstick with his thumb. You feel like a teenager, hiding things from your parents but it's exciting, the adrenaline he makes you experiment with is addictive.

- You're losing the game, Meine Liebe. You're being caught easily.

- Perhaps, I like to be caught, perhaps the 'maus' is captivating the 'katze' so it can fall in the trap.

Both smile at each other, you fix your hair, his and his tie, you leave the place first, to your surprise, Gaz is waiting for you outside, he hasn't seen you so you take off your shoes and break the heel of one, that was your lie, you disappear because you went to the bathroom and on the way your heel broke.

You and your team are in the truck, ready to leave when an explosion and fire started, right in the location where you were. Your captain doesn't waste time waiting orders, he makes all of you go back to the place, everybody take the necessary to fight, there's people running, screaming and some other shooting at them, Soap and Gaz are responding to the attacks, defending the hostages, the captain is evacuating while you and Ghost are inside looking for more people.

Ghost catches one of the enemies, he instantly asks who they are looking for, hitting him while you're checking no one approaches you, this man doesn't say a word, ghost simply gives him a headshot.

Both run through the halls shooting at any enemy, sending some hostages out. You can see a soldier running to the emergency stairs with a woman.

«I have the Target, colonel! Call the helicopter! We're on the ceiling!» «All units! Extraction in 10!»

- Ghost! The ceiling!

You start shooting at this stranger who's dragging a woman by her arm, this woman doesn't look scared or worried, her expression is completely the opposite of afraid. You stop for a few seconds contemplating if the intervention of you and your team is actually a good decision, perhaps KorTac is doing a rescue mission, your internal debate ends when your lieutenant yells at you to continue.

You're finally in the ceiling, ghost is behind you both are receiving and shooting, the boys are at the ceiling from other building, supporting as snipers, you're running to the hostage while Ghost is fighting with some men, the helicopter lands in the middle of the disaster, you see König again, he's already wearing his black combat clothes, helmet and mask, he's inside the helicopter with some ropes, some men start to climb, you don't see someone approaching you behind, but only feel the pain on your thigh, the bullet is there burning your leg, it didn't hit any important or vital artery but somehow got stuck. «Bastard!» you yell, turning quickly and shooting on his head, you let your body fall on the ground «I'm hurt!». You look up at the helicopter, König is looking at you, he's worried, his eyes say everything, but it would be too risky to go down there to help you, he's also very distracted observing you when a bullet hits his shoulder.

Following the direction where the bullet came from, you see ghost with a sniper, pointing at him, without hesitation you stand up, your leg is burning in pain but you're more worried about König, he's covering his shoulder and helping another soldier to get inside the helicopter.

You have to do something quickly to distract ghost who apparently hasn't seen or heard you. You throw out a flash grenade close to him. It works, the light makes him fail the shot, the bullet passes just at the side of his head. The helicopter leaves and you quickly sit, repeating you're hurt, apparently nobody saw your little trick, you're biting a piece of cloth and the handgrip of your own knife while you're extracting the bullet from your leg with König's knife and your hand, Ghost runs to you still confounded for the grenade but instantly starts to help you with your wound.

Once at the base, you're with the medic attending your wound, Ghost is there keeping an eye on you, you're talking about how you receive that bullet when Soap appears with a phone on his ear, he says something to the person in the phone and then handles it to you.

- Y/N, your dad has been calling you like a thousand times.

Your dad? You and your father don't talk frequently, it's impossible but perhaps it is an emergency.

- Hey dad, what's up?

- How's your wound Meine Liebe?

That's not your father's voice. Your anxiety invades your body, soap and Ghost are looking at you, exchanging looks between them, you have to relax if you don't want them to ask what's going on.

- Oh...dad, listen It's not the right time, the medic is attending me.

He laughs.

- Meine injuries had been attended too, anyway. just tell daddy if you're okay.

- Well... (You don't know how much that word 'daddy' made you blush, you can bet he's enjoying it) it hurts. What about you?

- It's not bad, I've been worse. Danke (thanks) for saving me.

- No problem. well... As I said, I'm busy right now, can you call me later, dad?

- I'll do it if you send a little kiss to Daddy.

- Okay, then... Don't call me back.

- At least say 'goodbye daddy, love you'. Come on, say it, sei ein gutes Mädchen (be a good girl).

You roll your eyes but not because it's annoying, it's because you're feeling that sensation in your stomach, that warmth between your legs, you can't understand why he has all this power over you, you're not complaining, you like that.

- Fine. Goodbye, Love you daddy.

He laughs again and you hang up the phone, sighing loudly and with a huge silly smile on your face, Soap erases that smile as soon as he talks.

- Is that how you call to your dad? God, my girlfriend calls me Daddy... Now I won't get horny with that ever again.

- Ah... Ewww? Shut up, Soap.

He's talking about how strange it is for him to hear about your 'daddy' and you, while Ghost insists him to shut up, the medic is in silence but she wants to laugh, you're sure. Then your phone rings again, a text.

«Scheiße (fuck), I could get used to that nickname, call me like that and I'll fell under your trap, kleine Maus (little mouse)» K.

Once again you're smiling, he's funny, charming, he's so fine, so fuckin' attractive, he's intoxicating and it's hard to not fall for him.

[vaspider]

It seems like you might be having a bad day? That AITA post was a really lighthearted promo and faux links ala Rick Rolls are an established part of internet sillies. It wasn’t malicious and the subject they linked to is free.

You’re generally a more level headed person so I was surprised to see how aggressive you got. But based on your reaction the author is getting doxxed which does feel unfair given the nature of the post.

Okay, no. Absolutely not.

First of all: This is the last thing I'm saying about that post. Anybody trying to continue this conversation with me in any way after this response will be blocked.

We're not doing that nonsense up there. We're not doing the "Spider is responsible for someone else's behavior" thing. I've been very, very clear that I don't endorse harassment or doxxing, and I've also been very clear that I'm not responsible for what other people do. Saying, "I don't like deceptive links, and this has done the opposite of interesting me, it's upset me and made me not want to read this; heads-up, y'all, this isn't a legit AITA post," which is all I ever said, really, isn't in any way an incitement of doxxing or harassment, and it's absolutely shitty of you to try to lay that at my feet.

Are deceptive links (commonly called "RickRolls" even when they don't link to the Rick Astley video) a fun and hilarious part of internet culture? Not really, actually. Most links on the internet that don't lead to where they say they lead aren't fun and cheerful little "memes" (the post wasn't a meme, but we'll use the word the OP used) inviting people to read a free queer book: they're usually part of social engineering phishing campaigns.

What makes the original RickRoll sometimes acceptable is a) the fact that you immediately know you've been "got" because an Original RickRoll is unmistakable after the first time you experience it, b) the link serves as a punchline to a specific kind of internet joke, usually along the lines of "click this link for news that seems too good to be true," which reinforces the idea that you have to be careful about believing what you see online, and c) it's unique. It actually isn't funny, cute, or cool to put deceptive links up online, with the possible exception of a well-executed Original RickRoll. That's the entire point of why Original RickRolls work.

Deceptive linking is a behavior that is illegal in some jurisdictions & is also grounds for banning from a lot of sites, including, wait for it:

Deceptive or Fraudulent Links. Don't post deceptive or fraudulent links in your posts. This includes giving links misleading descriptions, putting the wrong “source” field in a post, setting misleading click-through links on images, or embedding links to interstitial or pop-up ads.

Tumblr.

Got that? It's actually against the fucking rules here. It's really, really clearly written in Tumblr's User Guidelines section of the Terms of Service. You know, the rules everybody is supposed to be following to be here?

So, no, I'm not "having a bad day," except that people keep being asshats to me for saying, "I don't think it's cool that you did this thing (that breaks the ToS on the site and uses a technique commonly used for spearphishing) to promote your book, actually," doubling down on it by trying to shame me by using the fact that it's a queer book as an emotional lever, and now I've got this ask both trying to make me responsible for other people's behavior and acting like me saying "hey, this isn't cool, and no, that response isn't cool either," and then blocking the person and moving on with my life is somehow not "levelheaded."

tl;dr:

Deceptive linking is against TOS, actually.

I'm not responsible for other people's bad behavior. I did not invite or incite that behavior. I just said "this thing you did isn't okay."

I have expressly disavowed doxxing and harassment for years, both because it's shit and because I've been a repeat victim of it.

How dare you, actually.

I blocked the OP after my second response. I'm not going to talk about this anymore. Anyone sending me any further asks about the subject whatsoever or attempting to continue this conversation with me in any way will simply be blocked.

Fuck's sake.

[purple-space-aliens]

i know i already made a post about this today, but i’m being serious when i’m saying that y’all should start providing alt/plain text and other accessibilities on your posts. this is coming from someone who personally has genuine issues reading colored texts, varied font types and sizes, typing quirks, and images with text. i understand that you may have a specific aesthetic, but that should not be prioritized over making our alterhuman community on tumblr accessible for everyone. it doesn’t have to be difficult and complex, just copy and paste everything and then set it to the original text settings. you can even put it under a cut so it doesn’t disrupt the aesthetic of your posts. and while we’re at the topic, image ids (or descriptions under “alt”!), gif warnings (especially for fast gifs), and eyestrain warnings are also some more simple things that could just be put in posts/tags to make our community more accessible for all alterhumans. and when i’m talking about alt/plain texts, i am including when you wish to make jokes. it’s upsetting when others make jokes and i’m left out because i struggle to read to the joke in the first place. i want to be able to be in on things in the community, but it’s really hard to do it because of the lack of alt text and plain text. again, understand thinking it’s pretty or thinking it looks nice but i’m also asking you to please consider making it accessible for those who have trouble reading things like this. i know it’s hard to change things about such a large community, but i’ve seen it happen before so i feel like we could try and do something like it again.

i’m especially putting this for double if you use a dni banner or do not use plain text (not censored unless it is in a way that can still be easily deciphered by either eyes or a screen reader). if i cannot read your banner, i do not know if i can interact or not, defeating the whole purpose of a dni.

lastly, if you are using colored text, me and other alterhumans that have struggles with reading that would likely appreciate if you put the tag “#colored text” on the posts using it so we can having a warning beforehand. this way, we don’t have to filter out your username or block you because both feel incredibly disrespectful to do (at least imo).

i as of right now cannot think of anything else to say, but i am open to speak about this if you do so civilly.

-purple (i’m not sure if this is actually me who wrote this, and various headmates may also show up to discuss things if anyone would like to discuss it)

[duckchu]

Duckyyyy, I seriously need a change from the KDA!reader stuff going around, could I mayhaps beg of you for anything romantic with whatever heartsteel boy you feel like writing for with a Pentakill reader?

(I seriously recommend listening to Pentakill if you like old metal, I can also help give a brief description of Pentakill if you need it)

-🎃

While Pentakill is (musically) my least favourite band from lol, I'm a Sona main and a Mordekaiser simp, I know them by heart, 🎃 (this sounds way more threating than it was meant to lmao) (and I do not know them by heart, I just love Sona and Mordekaiser and would very much enjoy being stuffing to a sandwich if they're the bread if you know what I mean

And you know what? I'm feeling like writing them all so enjoy my lovely pumpkin

Also sorry for kinda insterting Battle Academia Yone in there but I couldn't stop myself

Enjoy 🖤

(mmm wife gif)

Kayn

You're a hottie AND you're in THE Pentakill? He was instantly hooked on you when you two met

Though you weren't as keen on him, thinking of him as just another fanboy

After some time of him bugging you and trying to impress you as much as he can, you warmed up to him

Eventually landing yourself into a relationship with him

Everyone in both bands thought you two were just a short phase

But then the public learned about you

And my god, was it a storm

Especially since everyone suspected you were dating someone...more like you

But you two are still going strong

He loves your style, especially if your outfits include some chains (he's a kinky man what can I say)

Though he also enjoys your style outside of the stage, no matter how much it differs from your metal queen image

Honestly he just loves when you look happy

Probably wrote a few songs about you, which he will never show you, since he thinks you're too cool for love songs

Aphelios

Honestly? Wasn't interested at the beginning

You're from Pentakill? Ok, don't care

Honestly you were the one who fell first

He had no idea, untill he noticied you telling Sona you thought he was cute using sing language

After that he started noticing you in his surroundings more often

Especially if you wore tight clothes

I mean he's not a pervert, but you look really good

Finally Alune made him realise he's in love

Oh shit he is

So after some time to gather courage he goes in an confesses

Thought it wouldn't be a problem to do it in front of Kayle, since why would she know sing language

SHE'S IN THE BAND WITH SONA TOO FUCK

He may be stupid but you still love him

But rumours spread fast

So next day the press was on the asses of both of you

Honestly doesn't care. He loves you and that's what matters

Though the rest of Heartsteel might care

Oh well

Yone

You two met before Pentakill was even a thing

So he isn't intimated by you being in the band

He's actually very happy for you

Though he does miss the days when you two were just teenagers and could hang out more frequently

Especially since now you usually were with the band or touring

I mean he was happy with you

But he might not have gotten past his little high school crush on you

Ah, the old days, when he thought dying his hair pink would impress you

Now he knew he just had to tell you that he liked you in that special way

You two might have lost some time, but now you have plenty of it to make up for it~

Ezreal

Him? With you? Nooo, this had to be joke

A joke so good Karthus spilled his morning coffe out laughing

Oh wait, you actually were? Oh shit

No one ever thought the intimidating metal diva would be with someone like him

Everyone was sure he would be dating another popstar to break up after a week

But it's been half a year since the news broke out and you two are still going strong

He loves seeing you on stage

You're so...

He secretly wants you to step on him and call you mommy

But he can hold back

For now

Sett

Holy shit

The hottie from Pentakill

And him

It's like a dream come true

Although he is worried what his mom will think

She doesn't care

As long as you treat him well, she will welcome you with open arms

Sett loves how ferocious you are

He finds it so hot how intimidating you look on stage

Especially since you have such an effect, even against Mordekaiser and Yorick, who look...well scary

K'Sante

Won't tell you that, but you inspired him so much

He just loves when you mix up your stage style and home style

Like wearing just a normal blouse with that gorset belt? You look great!

He of course loves you for so much more

For example how you always take care of him

Turning into a big softie whenever he needs your help

Or the way your eyes light up when you see in the crowd at a concert

Though the music is not his taste, he will do anything for his partner

He won't admit it, but in the depths of his files there's a whole set of outfits he designed for Pentakill, inspired by you of course

[lazykatie]

What could have happened AFTER the Castlecoming Ball (Part 2)

You can find

What could’ve happened at Castlecoming Week here (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

and

What could have happened AFTER the Castlecoming Ball here (Part 1, Part 3)

Ella leaned against Bridget’s door, her heart racing as she tried to process everything that’s happened. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on her chest. Slowly her back slid down the door until she found herself sitting on the cold floor of the dormitory hallway. She was supposed to be back home by now, but now is not really the time for her to worry about her stepmother. She needed to make things right with Bridget. 

With a deep breath, Ella prepared herself. She couldn’t afford to wallow in guilt; she needed to act. She needed to get her hands dirty. She needed to jump headfirst into this mess, the chaos she had inadvertently triggered. She needed to confront Uliana. 

Ella made her way to Black Lagoon, the air thick with an eerie mist that swirled and enveloped her like a dark cloak. Each step felt heavier as she walked on the jagged rocks, the sounds of water lapping against the shore echoing ominously in the silence.

“ULIANA!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the stillness. “ULIANA! SHOW YOURSELF!”

As if in response, a strange light began to glow from the depths of murky waters. A giant angler fish emerged, its bioluminescent lure casting an otherworldly glow across the lagoon. The fish’s enormous form seemed to part the water, revealing a stone path that led directly to its mouth.

Ella hesitated for a moment, the sight both mesmerizing and terrifying. Memories of Bridget’s tear-streaked face flashed in her mind—the pain, the betrayal in her eyes. She couldn’t let that be the last image she had of her friend. No, she owed it to Bridget to make things right. She prepared herself, and her resolve hardened. She couldn’t turn back now.

The fish opened its massive mouth, and Uliana emerged from its depths, her silhouette framed by the shimmering light as her crew followed her.

“How dare you, a mere peasant, call for me,” Ulaina sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Ella squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “Give it to me. The spellbook. The cursed item. Just give me what you used on Bridget. Do it while I’m asking nicely.”

“Easy, lass. It’s not like you can do anything about it.” Hook interjected, his tone dismissive.

“Don’t get me started with you, Hook. I’ll deal with you later,” Ella shot back, her anger flaring. Her fist clenched at her sides, and she could feel her pulse quicken as the heat of her frustration surged through her.

Uliana cackled, a sound that sent shivers down Ella’s spine. “If I don’t give it to you, what are you gonna do about it?”

“On second thought, Morgie darling, fetch the cookbook,” Uliana commanded. Morgie obediently retrieved it, her tentacles writhing with excitement.

“Why don’t you return this to Principal Merlin’s office, since you’re quite eager to get your hands on it?” Uliana tossed the book towards Ella, who barely caught it, her heart racing.

Ella opened the book and flipped through the pages, desperation clawing at her insides. She scanned each spell, searching for the one that had cursed Bridget. Finally, she found it, but her heart sank as she read the description. She can’t understand it. The spell only changed a person's appearance—nothing about personality or anything internal. 

Ella’s mind raced. This didn’t make sense. Bridget had always been the sweetest, most forgiving person she knew, never holding grudges, even when others mocked her for being too nice. She remembered the times when Bridget would laugh off insults with a lighthearted joke or offer treats to someone who wronged her. Bridget always said, “There’s good in everyone” or “You’ll always get more with sugar than salt.” This newfound anger, this darkness—it was so unlike her.  

Did she really mess it up? But Bridget wasn’t a resentful person before. Was it really just her fault? No, there must be something else. There had to be something more at play, something beyond the simple spell described in the book.

As the VK began to head back into their hideout, Ella murmured, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Huh? The rest of what?” Morgie piped in, his tone a cutesy mocking one. 

“Where’s the rest of the spell?” She yelled out frantically, heaving loudly as her heart pumped fast.

“There’s nothing else. That’s all you need to bring back that desperate girl to her original form.” Uliana said, her voice laced with mockery.

“This can’t be! She’s already in her human form. You must’ve done something that messed with her head. She’s never mad at me like this!” Ella protested, desperation creeping into her voice.

Uliana turned to her crew, a sour expression crossing her face as she sensed betrayal in the air. She narrowed her eyes, scanning each member with suspicion. Could it be one of them? she thought. Loyalty is a fragile thing, easily swayed by fear or greed. She’s seen it before—those who claim to be allies, only to stab them in the back when it suits them. But she won’t let that happen again. The memory of her past betrayals flickered in her mind, fueling her resolve. They should know by now that crossing me has consequences. 

She then fixed her gaze back on Ella, a smirk playing on her lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, peasant. Are you sure it’s not you running off with your prince that messed with her head?”

The crew erupted into mocking laughter, their jeers echoing around the lagoon like a chorus of torment. Ella felt her cheeks flush with anger and humiliation, but she stood her ground. This was about Bridget, not her. 

“Enough!” Ella shouted, her voice steady despite the fear swirling inside her. “You think this is a game? You think you can just toy with people’s lives and get away with it?”

Uliana’s laughter faded, replaced by a cold glare. “Mind you, we’re not here to play games, but to rule.”

She turned back to enter the angler fish while the rest of her crew followed her. “You’ve wasted enough of our time.” 

She blew her shell necklace. In response, their giant angler fish hideout’s mouth started to close. “Good luck with the giant eels,” Uliana said to Ella as the rocks descended with the hideout.

Ella narrowly escaped the eels as she hopped on the descending rocks, tossing the book first before diving onto the shore like a mad woman. She landed hard, her chest heaving as she lay sprawled on the ground, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her limbs trembling from the exertion. Dirt clung to her sweat-soaked skin, and her muscles ached from the desperate scramble. For a moment, she just lay there, eyes wide, heart pounding in her ears, struggling to process the danger she had just survived.

~~~

While Ella struggled to escape the giant eels above, another struggled beneath the surface of the lagoon.

“WHO DARES TO BREAK BRIDGET’S CURSE?” Uliana yelled angrily at her closest crew.

Each one denied with “I don’t even like her,” or “I wouldn’t do that to you, my goddess,” or “I don’t care,” But one, out of the four, remained silent. Hook processed what he had done, unsure why he had acted. For him, it was really just a spur of the moment, nothing else. Or was it? 

As he stood there, a flashback of their dance at the Castlecoming Ball flooded his mind—the way Bridget had looked at him, her eyes filled with warmth and trust. He remembered the softness of her hand in his, the lightness of her laugh as they moved across the floor. It had been a rare moment where he felt something—something he couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, stirring a part of him he thought long buried.

Was it guilt? Was it something more? Even he himself didn’t know why he had acted, but the memory of Bridget’s smile haunted him, leaving him more conflicted than ever.

“James, would you care to explain.” Uliana smiled with wide eyes that could kill.

Morgie and the couple moved aside as Uliana approached him. “I thought we had already established that you don’t have anything to do with that pesky princess.”

“I don’t.” Hook answered shortly, gulping.

“Then tell me, why in Merlin’s world is she back to her normal self?” She asked, her tentacle brushing his cheeks.

“I don’t kno—” 

“LIES!” Uliana accused firmly.

“There’s only five of us who know how to reverse it.” She paused, scanning the group. “These three,” pointing at Maleficent, Morgie, and Hades, “don’t like her enough to do her a favor.”

“But you, my dear, have been showing a lot of interest in her. Even danced with her during the ball. Was it really all just an act, Hook?”

Hook couldn’t utter a single word, also unsure where his loyalty lay.

Uliana took his silence as a no, "I guess you’ve made your choice.”

She inhaled deeply before she yelled, “THROW HIM TO THE EELS!”

Uliana’s other lackeys started to surround Hook as she blew her shell necklace.

“WAIT! Do we really have to do this, Uli?” Morgie interfered. 

She scoffed before saying, “ Loyalty isn’t gray like people, Morgie. It's black and white. You’re either completely loyal or not loyal at all.” She continued in a bitter tone.

“BUT—”

“NO MORE BUTS! THROW HIM NOW!” 

Maleficent cast a spell on the lackeys, freezing them in place.

“Don’t you dare, Mal!”

“I’m not,” she defended herself. 

“I just thought that we could use him to torment princess weirdo more,” Maleficent suggested, her eyes glowing green, signaling her psychotic tendencies. The thrill of watching Bridget squirm under their manipulation was far more appealing than simply eliminating Hook; it was a game, and she relished the thought of orchestrating chaos from the shadows, savoring every moment of the princess’s despair.

Uliana narrowed her eyes, contemplating Maleficent’s suggestion. Maleficent wasn’t always like this; she never orchestrated a plan, especially something that could harm Hook. Maybe she had a change of heart. Maybe this time, Maleficent had chosen to be more active in ensuing chaos.

“You think you can manipulate him to your advantage? That could work, but it’s a risk.”

“Every plan is a risk,” Maleficent replied smoothly, her expression sly. “But if he’s truly conflicted, we can use that to our benefit. He’ll be our pawn in this game.”

“Fine, but do it properly,” Uliana said to Maleficent as she exited the hideout with Morgie following right behind her.

Hook felt grateful to Maleficent. She always had his back, always diverting the attention from him whenever he needed it. However, he would never guess she would suggest he become their pawn. Their pawn. Maybe it was just his theatrics rubbing off on her.

He approached her. “Thanks for that, Mal. I know that I can count on you,” he said, placing his left hand on her shoulder.

Maleficent looked at the hand as if disgusted by it. Pushing the hand away, she said, “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no fun in making you eel food. Controlling you would be much, much more thrilling.” Her eyes glowed green again.

“Mal—”

“I already warned you before, so don’t even.” she threatened her ‘friend’, before leaving the hideout with Hades.

Hook couldn’t believe this. A wave of dread washed over him. He had underestimated Uliana’s wrath. He underestimated the depths of Maleficent’s cunningness. Maybe for once, he also needed to take his own advice: Trust no one, because even salt can look like sugar.

~~~

A/N: After a few days, I finally finished it. Don't really know if it makes sense, but I hope it does! Happy reading everyone!!!

[fandomfics]

The Trouble with Love

Part 3

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x John Hancock x fem Reader

Description: After a mishap in the wasteland you are left to wonder if the ghouls you care for and have traveled with for years feel anything for you. The answers you find are not what you expected and leave you with more questions than answers.

Part 1 Part 2

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️

18+ only, MDNI

Unprotected anal, creampie, light dubcon? But like not really, queer, thruple, masterbation, Dom/sub dynamics, name calling, pet names, punishment, oral (m), praise/degradation, teasing, edging, violence, drugs

Not a long wait for the good stuff

Your head snaps up and your eyes meet his, "what the hell?" You blurt out.

"Yeah, when we started comin round Goodneighbor. Late night at the bar. Got carried away betting on who the better shot is. One thing led to another and we had a grand ol time."

You can't tell if the smile he cracks at that moment is because he's joking or he's amused by the expression on your face.

"You're messing with me, right?"

"God's honest truth sweetheart."

"Well that's....uh... Kinda fuckin hot." You say unable to keep yourself from imagining every lurid detail, your core throbbing at the thought. "I guess we should probably go work this whole dynamic out with him.....figure this out before we all get too deep."

"Heh, sure thing sugar." Cooper gets up with a groan and you follow. After you've redressed you head over to the statehouse to find Hancock in his office.

"Close the door on your way out Fahrenheit." Hancock turns to you both with a deep inhale.

"You two smell like you were up to something." He chuckles before making his way to to the couch. He sinks into it and gestures for you to sit too.

"We should talk about us...all of us" you say looking into his obsidian eyes.

"Look, whatever you decide I'll respect."

"I want to be with you both. I...I want the three of us to be together. I don't want to choose between you. I know neither of you are the sharing type, but I think this could work for us."

A pregnant pause comes over the room before Hancock turns his gaze to Cooper. "So does that mean you and I can also resume our elicit activities?"

"Oh God yes. " You blurt out shamelessly. Cooper nods to him with a wink and a small chuckle.

"Count me in Sunshine."

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Days later you lay on your back with your head in Cooper's lap and your legs draped over Hancock's while chems course through you. You've spent a lazy afternoon getting high in your room, needing the relief. Not even an hour after walking into Hancock's office someone burst in frantically looking for your trio, their loved one needing to be rescued from some nearby super mutants. Of course you couldn't say no, but you couldn't help but feel disappointed that you couldn't bask in the newness of this relationship.

Now that you're back you're determined to take a bit of time off, "One week. No jobs." You demanded. Neither ghoul protested, knowing it was going to futile to do so even if they had wanted to.

"So... Who wants to tell me the story of your first encounter." You suddenly say breaking the companionable silence that had settled in.

"Well, I had won a bet-" Hancock starts

"Like hell ya did, you cheated you dirty bastard!" Cooper raises his voice mockingly challenging Hancock

He shrugs nonchalantly "Landed me that pretty little ass of yours didn't it."

"I s'pose it did." Cooper chuckles "as much as I'd love ta tell ya, I think ya'd like it more if ya saw it. Be back in two ticks." Your eyes light up at the delicious thought, Cooper leaves for just a few minutes before returning with a holotape.

"Maybe sometimes I have the good doctor record my time in the loungers..." He gets the tape in the TV and it hums to life with black and white images of them. Cooper takes his seat as your pillow and you focus your full attention on the ghouls on the screen.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Somewhere around 2am in a dimly lit alley in Goodneighbor Cooper silently stalks Hancock. He pushes him against a wall, hand covering his mouth.

"Ya no good sonofabitch," Cooper hisses "Ya cheated me, ya owe me 100 caps!" He removes his hand from Hancock's mouth to allow him to speak.

"No idea what you're talking about." He replies coyly

"I know the bet was rigged, now give me my caps before I split ya open."

A mischievous smile plays across Hancock's face, "Is that a promise? I do have a thing for handsome angry cowboys."

"What the fuck are ya talking about?

One of Hancock's hands finds it's way to Cooper's bulge and he's momentarily startled before replying.

"Ya think this is a game? Give. Me. My. Caps."

"My bad," Hancock raises his hands in surrender "come up to my office, I'll get em for you!"

Cooper releases Hancock and follows him closely inside the statehouse. Once in the office the door closes and Hancock bends down to open a drawer at his desk to retrieve the caps.

"Stay right there." Cooper gowls and positions himself behind him to ensure that he's not reaching for a weapon. "Put the caps on the desk slowly. "

Hancock obeys and starts to straighten until he feels a hand on his back, pushing him down face first into the desk and Cooper's groin against his ass.

"What do ya s'pose yer punishment should be."

Hancock smirks "you did promise to split me open..."

"Well now, yer gonna stand right there, not movin a muscle unless I say ya can."

"Yes sir." Hancock is obedient

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Your face is hot and you can feel yourself starting to get wet. You shove your hand into your pants and start to swirl your fingers around your clit. Both ghouls notice immediately and let their hands wander your body.

"Ya like that doll?" Cooper says letting an ungloved hand grab your breast over your t-shirt while Hancock runs his fingers lightly over your thighs.

You hum in response.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Cooper lifts Hancocks frock coat until the bottom is resting on his back and roughly unbuttons his pants allowing them to pool around his ankles.

"Stay." Cooper wanders the room checking drawers, nooks, crannies, and cabinets until he finds what he's looking for. A bottle of cooking oil. "Yer lucky I'm a gentleman. This kindness is more than ya deserve after what you pulled"

"Thank you sir."

He places himself behind Hancock again as he removes his gloves. After diping a finger into the oil he spreads his ass and begins to massage the other ghouls tight hole. Hancock moans loudly as Cooper let's a finger slide in and begins pumping it inside him. He slowly adds fingers, priming it for his own needs before bringing them back out.

"Get down on yer knees." Hancock does as he's told, now looking up at Cooper as he frees his erection from the constraints of his pants. Hancock immediately moves to take it greedily into his mouth, eager to please.

"Just couldn't wait ta get a taste could ya, ya lil whore" Hancock hums in agreement, taking all of Cooper's cock into his mouth.

Cooper places both hands on the back of Hancocks head and bucks into him slowly building speed with each thrust, watching his eyes water as the tip hits the back of his throat. Eventually he moves to stroke his own but is stopped, "tsk tsk, what did I say?" Cooper says disapprovingly. Immediately he corrects himself and moves his hands behind his back to avoid the temptation.

"That's it, good boy." He says with a moan, he stops with his cock fully embedded, "Are ya ready for yer punishment?" Hancock nods as much as he can with his mouth full of Cooper. With his member withdrawn he pulls Hancock up by his coat and bends him over the desk, pushing the frock coat out of his way once more.

He massages Hancock's asshole with the tip of his dick, slowly working it in, a long drawn out moan from each resounds.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

The ghouls have undressed you as you still lay across them. Hancock lazily teases your clit with his fingers while Cooper watches on, pinching your nipples. You're eyes are still fixed on the screen.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Cooper grabs Hancocks hips and ruts into him hard and quick. The sounds of moans and skin slapping skin fills the room. Hancock claws at the desk in pleasure, every thrust is hitting home by the look on his face. He's flush with anticipation and need, clearly desperate to chase the high of climax.

"Sir," Hancock pants "can I cum, I'm so close..."

Cooper reaches around and holds the base of Hancocks cock and balls to prevent him from finishing, and whispers "No, ya can't."

He continues to fuck him hard until hes good and ready to spill inside of him. Cooper shudders as his rhythm is thrown off and he gives one last deep thrust, holding himself there for a moment. When he's finished he steps away, finally releasing Hancock.

"Alright, you were a good lil whore, go ahead." As soon as Cooper's hand leaves his member Hancock is unable to hold himself back and spills all over the floor and desk.

"If ya need anymore punishin', let me know." He says as he rights his clothing before grabbing the caps and leaving the room.

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The screen fades to black and you find yourself still being teased, "She's a dripping mess Coop." Hancock smiles

"Guess we're gonna have to take care of that now aren't we..."

[cantwritethetword]

Music to my Ears

(+ Tickletober2023 Day 15: Cackle)

Fic Descript: Eddie hears Steve's proper laugh for the first time and becomes OBSESSED with hearing it again. Luckily, Eddie has a way to make that happen.

~A/N  - This is my first ever Steddie fic, and I haven't actually got up to Eddie in stranger things😅 but the amount of fics I've read (mostly nhasablogg cause their fics are fucking GOLDEN) makes me think i've got a decent understanding of the guy. lemme know if I completely fuck up his character tho lmao.

Hope this is alright, and hope the start of 2024 has been kind to you all <3

EDIT: This was also meant to be tickletober2023 but I'm adding it in now

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link 

Fighting demonic entities from another dimension is certainly one way to bring people together.

Steve and Eddie certainly didn't have had the most typical start to their friendship, so the pair were more than happy to slide back into a more regular young adult friendship experience once everything had calmed down.

But, the less crazy shit the two experienced, the more Eddie noticed Steve's little quirks that his brain couldn't help but fixate on. Nothing that necessarily bothered him, just weird things that most people probably didn't realise about Steve.

One of those weird things was his laugh. Or, rather, his lack of proper laughter.

Any time someone cracked a stupid joke, or something funny happened in the movie they were watching, Steve would bow his head and let out a few near-silent snickers, before lifting his gaze again with a slightly-too-perfect grin.

The first time it happened, Eddie put it down to nerves. Steve wasn't quite used to hanging out with Eddie's bandmates yet, so of course he would be more reserved than usual.

But it happened again, and again, and again. And the less people that were around, the more confused Eddie became. It was almost like Steve was consciously stopping himself from laughing aloud.

From that point forward, Eddie made it his mission to make Steve laugh. He'd poke fun at Dustin, goof around with his guitar, and add even more dramatic effects to his DnD games. But nothing seemed to crack Harrington.

That was until they were alone.

The pair had been lounging on Eddie's bed, talking back and forth about whatever TV show they had just finished. Eddie had made some stupid joke under his breath, not thinking anything of it. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and had no intent other than maybe getting Steve to roll his eyes.

But with the relaxed atmosphere of Eddie's bedroom, Steve's guard was so far down he didn't have time to pull it back up, and it was almost like the laughter started before either of them realised.

It was high pitched, only a level or two below squeaky, and certainly didn't fit Eddie's old image of 'Douchebag Steve'. The giggles were bright, clear but still bunched together. It came out in a stream for only a few seconds before both men locked eyes with surprise on their faces.

Eddie was entranced. It wasn't a particularly special sounding laugh, but it was coming from Steve. It was Steve's actual real laugh.

The man in question went red, and started stuttering out a "Where were we?" in an attempt to switch the conversation back.

Though Eddie allowed Steve the free pass, and carried the conversation back to Twin Peaks. But his brain kept ticking. Would Steve let that happen again? How could Eddie get him comfortable enough to laugh like that? How could Eddie even make him laugh enough to spill?

Steve was, by now, fully under the impression he had gotten away with it, but Eddie - the meddling kid - was far from ready to let it go.

As the conversation fell to a comfortable lull, Eddie spoke.

"You know, you should laugh like that more often."

Steve completely bluescreened. "Uh- I- What do you mean?"

Eddie sat upright. "Your normal laugh is so... quiet. Just then it felt like you really let go. I liked it."

"No I didn't." Steve's eyes fell to the bedsheets, out of Eddie's gaze. "My normal laugh is my only laugh, I don't have a different laugh."

Eddie chuckled, moving closer and almost looming over Steve. "You really don't want to start this fight with me, I know what I heard."

Still maintaining direct eye contact with the bed, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no fight to be had, I didn't laugh any differently. You can't prove it."

Oh that did it. Those three words struck a chord with the resident musician, and everything clicked into place in his mind.

"I can't prove it, huh?" Eddie smirked. "I think that's where you're wrong, Harrington."

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Eddie launched his fingers onto Steve's ribs and began vibrating his fingertips against the bones.

Steve let out a strangled gasp and tensed up, half-choked grunts squeezing through his sealed lips as his hands fought to pry Eddie's off him.

"Come on Harrington, just lemme hear you laugh." Eddie teased with a wink.

"ED-EDDIE- PL-PLEASE-!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, snickers beginning to break through his resolve as he gripped Eddie's wrists rigidly.

Almost there Eddie thought to himself. "Just let it happen Stevie."

And happen it did.

It all became just a little too much for Steve's nervous system to handle, and those adorable squeaky giggles Eddie was looking for flooded the room. Steve's hands lost their strength, and his arms crossed weakly in front of his stomach to protect himself. At least, that was the intention. In reality he had just trapped Eddie's ticklish fingers against his sides.

But by this point, Eddie had forgotten all about his little attack. His fingers stopped abruptly only seconds after Steve had cracked. Frozen, Eddie was unable to pull his eyes (and his attention) from Steve's bright giggly smile, even as Steve's laughter faded.

"Fuhuhuhuck..." Steve whined, his hands covering his eyes and breaking the silence that had formed since his little giggle fit had ceased.

Eddie chuckled, ruffling Steve's hair. "I'd say that proved my point, wouldn't you?"

"You tell no one about this." Steve said sternly, lifting himself onto his elbows. "Especially not Robin... or the kids."

Eddie grinned. "Oh I'm happy to keep this between us, our little secret hmm?"

After a quick nod in response, Steve let his gaze drift around the room for a moment. "So... uh... are you gonna let me up or..."

"Pfft, nope." Eddie laughed, and shot his fingertips straight under Steve's arms.

And this time, Steve didn't even try to stop himself.

[anistarrose]

Hello, TOH fandom, I am here once again to talk about accessibility!

[Image description: a screenshot of Lilith Clawthorne excitedly holding up a sign, which has been edited to read: "Image Descriptions for The Owl House (and why they matter)" in all caps. End description.]

Image descriptions, like the one I just used above, are exactly what it says on the tin: descriptions of the content of an image included to make the image maximally accessible.

Blind and low-vision people who use screen readers, people who rely on increased font size in-app or in-browser to read text, and neurodivergent people who have trouble interpreting elements of an image (for example, expression) all benefit from image descriptions.

And all images on the internet should be accessible regardless of topic, of course, but I've recently been trying to spread awareness in the context of The Owl House specifically because it's a show with multiple disabled and/or neurodivergent characters! In fact, Principal Bump is canonically low-vision with a service animal to help him in that regard — and I'd argue that making content about disabled characters accessible is extra, extra important!

[Image description: a screenshot of Principal Bump with his palisman Frewin removed from his head, revealing the scars over Bump's eyes. Frewin is in staff form, smiling, and Eda looks on from the side. End description.]

I know it's within this fandom's ability to make our posts about the finale as accessible as possible — and I know that because I've already seen a decent increase in described posts over the course of Season 3! I've seen more artist-described posts especially, which means a lot to me, and even more to a lot of other people, too <3

So, on that note, how to write an image description? It may seem intimidating, especially if describing someone else's post or fanart, but honestly, there's no definitive "rubric" to follow, just a list of general guidelines:

Indicate where the description starts and ends, with "end description" or "end ID".

Place the description immediately under the image, not under a read-more (this allows people who rely on IDs to experience the post the same way anyone else would, whereas read-mores are inconvenient, especially if OP changes their URL)

Minimize caps lock, italics, bold, and strikethrough, which can be hard to read and/or troublesome for screen readers. Generally, it's just best to transcribe in lowercase without particular effects, then indicate in the transcription if something is emphasized.

Likewise, don't put descriptions in Tumblr's special small text. It's difficult to read and inaccessible to many.

Don't make jokes or add commentary in IDs. If an image is meant to be humorous, obviously it's fine to phrase things in a way that tries to capture that, but it's not the place to add your own jokes, nor is it the place to declare subjective qualities like "this art is beautiful".

Descriptions can vary in length, but if one is getting long (if you're describing a comic, for example), then be sure to break it up with paragraph breaks.

Specifically, while I've heard that too many breaks (ie, every sentence) are annoying for some screen readers, long walls of text are conversely difficult for people with visual processing problems to parse. So, it's good to strike a balance.

With regards to length and amount of detail, it varies by personal preference! Most images don't need a whole small essay, but there's also value in describing certain small and symbolic details, subjective as it is.

Speaking of which, if you're the original artist, then you are automatically the expert on what you wanted the image to convey — the nuances of expression and body language, which details are important and which details are not — and for that reason, I love seeing artist-described works!

Below the cut: more on describing Owl House images specifically, on IDs versus alt text, and other possible questions!

When I transcribe TOH related posts, there's a few other guidelines I use, though these rules aren't as immediately important as the ones above. I generally start by indicating the type of image we're dealing with (a screenshot? fanart? a photo of a cosplay?), then mention what characters are depicted.

Unless I'm describing something long, like a comic, and relying on summarization, I usually mention which character designs we're dealing with (is Lilith in her dramatic black dress from Season 1? or is she in her low-battery shirt?). If it's fanart and the artist has come up with original outfits to put the characters in, I'll summarize those too.

(This is the other reason I love seeing artist-described works: because I, personally, am just kinda bad at describing fashion lol.)

Now, I'd like to go over some other questions that I've either encountered before, or anticipate:

What about alt text? Doesn't that accomplish the same purpose as image descriptions?

In a lot of senses, yes, so alt text is certainly much, much better than no description! However, remember that not every person relying on descriptions is necessarily someone who uses a screen reader every day, or uses a screen reader period. Some people do in fact read the descriptions themselves.

[Image description, identical to alt text: a screenshot of Luz Noceda from Season 2, smiling and blushing. End description.]

As you can see above, alt text takes an extra click (or tap) to access. In general, it's also prone to displaying walls of text, and — as far as I know — sometimes just doesn't show up if the Tumblr app isn't updated enough. (Not to mention that, in my opinion, making image descriptions visible to people who don't use them is an important part of spreading accessibility awareness in the first place!)

On the other hand, I've heard some people who benefit from descriptions say they actually prefer alt text, so I'm not going to come out and take a hard "absolutely no alt text ever under any circumstances" stance by any means. But, long story short, this is the reason that in my own posts, I almost always defer to in-post descriptions — the only exception might be if I'm writing a meta post, and functionally describing the images in the text anyway.

I've seen that sometimes you use [ ] brackets and sometimes you don't. Is there a reason?

Basically personal preference. I use brackets in posts like this when I have a lot of non-description writing, and want to make it extra clear where the description ends and the non-description begins. If I'm just captioning some fanart in a reblog and not adding any commentary, on the other hand, I leave off brackets because they're pretty redundant.

I'm nervous about describing images, but I still want to help make the fandom more accessible. Is there anything I can do?

Well, my first piece of advice would be to start small! Hell, start with just making sure you include a description whenever you post an image with just text, like a screenshot of a reply or someone's prev tags. You can build up little-by-little from there!

(My personal accessibility journey went from describing only tweet screenshots whose text I could just copy, to describing simple memes like cat pics, to deciding it was important to at least describe fanart of disabled characters like Eda, to finally describing almost every post I reblog. Trying to make that jump without any of the intermediate steps would've been overwhelming, but at this point, it all feels natural to me.)

But secondly, I would encourage showing some love to artists who describe their pieces! Queue up some described fanart, especially artist-described stuff, and help normalize it!

Get into the habit of checking the notes for descriptions (go to reblogs and filter by comments only) before you share! If someone describes your art, copy it into the original post, so the version of the thread reblogged directly from you will be accessible too! (And if you want to make some little tweaks, no one will be offended.)

You can also look into making your blog theme accessible, such as making sure the font size is large enough (and ideally sans serif, for readability). And if you feel more confident with describing audio, then writing transcripts of audio is always incredible as well, to help out those who are deaf, hard of hearing, or have auditory processing disorders!

I've heard that AI is able to describe images for screen readers pretty well these days. Are descriptions still important/going to remain important as the technology advances?

Well, let me say first that I'm very glad this technology exists, for sure! But I'm of the opinion that human described (and especially artist described) captions are, at least generally speaking, still going to be the gold standard for the foreseeable future — AI doesn't have the context we do for our art and our fandoms; it's much less likely than a fan of the show to pick up on what's an important or symbolic detail.

Are there actually people who need image descriptions in cartoon fandoms? I mean, the source material has such a visual component!

First off, blind and low vision people do in fact watch things like TV, movies, and plays — ever notice the "audio description" option to add narration to a given show in a streaming service? That's there to provide basically the real-time equivalent of image descriptions.

And, second, I'll leave you with this — don't you think a lot more disabled people would participate in fandom if fandom were more accessible and accommodating to disabled people in the first place?

[campgender]

from “Soft Butch” by Nora E. Derrington, published in Fat & Queer: An Anthology (2022)

image description below the cut.

I: Soft

There’s an onomatopoeia to the word. It begins with a sibilant, sinuous, sensual ess, then moves on to a gentle ah that caresses the palate. Then the quick succession of consonants hitting the lips and teeth like a playful kitten batting a toy mouse. The word is a delicacy, smooth and subtle.

As a descriptor, it can be tactile: pliable, cushioned, comfortable. Cotton sheets worn silky smooth. Downy puppy fur. Velvet rose petals drawn across bare skin. But of course, the negative associations slip in quickly: pliable becomes yielding, yielding becomes weak. A soft touch. Soft-hearted. A big softie. An antonym not just for hard but for strong.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be strong, to be tough. I didn’t want to be soft. How could I be anything but soft, though, when PE was my worst subject and I was so sensitive that the slightest injustice—Nikki’s mom yelling at me for wearing shoes on Nikki’s waterbed, even though the tell-tale footprint clearly came from Nikki’s shoe—or most mundane tragedy—restless teens dismembering a cheap claw-machine teddy bear in my presence—never failed to make me cry?

II. Butch

More onomatopoeia here, too: a voiced plosive, a deep vowel, three consonants in a row. Similar in feel to “macho”—but subtly different in meaning. Stereotypically masculine. Nothing about me has ever been masculine, so how could I ever be butch?

Dickies pants became the rage when I was in high school. As an alternative-rock aficionado who obsessed over the sound and aesthetics of the movie Singles—it came out when I was 12 and changed my life—I knew I needed them. When I was 16 and had both a job and transportation, I made my way to the local Tillys to snag a pair. The black cotton twill was stiff under my fingers as I stepped into the pants and pulled them up.

The Dickies pulled against my hips, uncomfortably snug, and gaped so wide at my waist I could fit a fist between my skin and the cloth. I left the store disappointed. Why did I even bother? “Good, child-bearing hips,” people would tell me, even as an adolescent. I resigned myself to a presentation that never quite matched the ideal in my head.

VII. Soft butch

Despite my fitting comfortably under the queer umbrella, I’d never really given all that much thought to the specifics of my gender identity and expression. I met a trans man when I was 24 who used the same nickname I do, which made it easier to see our similarities, but I knew immediately that his path wasn’t mine. Later that year I met someone who epitomizes high femme, and, again, I could immediately see both how perfectly she embodied that expression, and how poorly it would suit me.

The person I thought of at the time as my boyfriend, then my husband, used to joke that I was the man in the relationship— despite my tender heart, my frequent tears, my undeniable softness—but I was more or less content in just knowing what I wasn’t. It seems possible I could have stayed in that liminal place forever, but then when we were in our mid-thirties, my wife came out as trans.

This is not a story of my adapting to my wife being trans. I’d always known we were both queer, and discovering I was married to a woman came more as a pleasant surprise than anything else.

What did happen, though, was that her coming out gave me permission to do more soul-searching, to try to pinpoint my gender identity and ideal gender expression. I first encountered the term “soft butch” in one of those joke “futch scale” charts—the ones that sort musical instruments or tropical fruits on a scale from high femme to stone butch—but it stuck with me. It didn’t seem to be something I was allowed to call myself, though: image searches on Google or Pinterest just led to rows of photos of beautiful slender white people with artful short haircuts and distressed jeans. Lots of Kristen Stewart and Elliot Page and occasionally Justin Bieber. I am definitely too old and too fat to try to emulate those folks! Eventually I lamented on Twitter that I was drawn to the soft butch aesthetic but didn’t know if I could pull it off, given that I’m not thin. I quickly received a slightly baffled but firm response from a genderqueer acquaintance that of course I could. In some ways I’m still a kid, seeking others’ permission to accept myself.

I realize as I write this that I’m wearing what might be my quintessential soft butch outfit—it fits me almost without my trying. Distressed jeans—a pair that I stole from my wife long before she transitioned. They fit my hips and thighs beautifully, which means I have to cinch a belt tight to make them stay up around my waist, but I know how to manage that now. A close-fitting t-shirt celebrating a punk band I’ve seen in concert a good dozen times. Hair pulled back into a messy bun. Fuzzy gray slippers with arch support, because I’m a middle-aged fat person, so of course I have plantar fasciitis. A gentle breath before a firm statement: the perfect mixture of soft and butch.

[justanotherbirdbrain-blog]

Writing a Geologist/Someone who studies rocks: From a Geologist

Maybe a bit of a personality analysis on myself and everyone I have studied/worked with thus far, but I figured it would be helpful to provide the more common types of geologists, what they might find interesting specifically, and how they are conducting their research. I also wanted to show different sides of geology, because most depictions are of this rugged field geologist who always wants to go outside, when that is only like... 1/3 at most of the geology community.

Anyway! Let's get into it! *Also let me preface that this will be about geologists that have stayed in academia and not a geologist working a 9-5.

*I put bullet points at the bottom for people who don't want to read all of this*

There are probably three MAJOR types of geologists, but of course we are human and our interests lie somewhere on a spectrum. I just wanted to give the 'generic' versions to make it easier for you to write a character.

The first kind of geologist is the field geologist!

I am once again really just yoinking someone's face again, sorry stranger. I feel like this is a great image of someone doing fieldwork. So, what they are using in this image is a 'Brunton Compass'. So what is different and important about this compass compared to others is that it can be used to measure the angle the rocks are sloping, used to measure elevation and a lot of things honestly, but what the man in this image is doing is measuring the angle of these rocks for geologic mapping purposes. A lot of these geologists ask questions like: What did this landscape used to be? How old is this? What lived here during that time? What was the climate/temperature at that time? How has this changed since it was *insert what it used to be* and what changed it?

Some things I have noticed a lot over the years when dealing with field geologists is they can hike... endlessly. They never seem winded going uphill and those boulders that seem dangerous? They are in them. Heights do not seem to scare them at all, in fact nothing scares them. Camping for extended periods of time is one of their favorite things, and ending the day with a beer is kinda their thing. They are some of the friendliest people I have ever met also. Super, golden retriever energy. (of course every once and awhile you will find a mean one though)

Next on this list is the classic lab rat geochemist/petrologist. (I am a geochemist/petrologist in practice so I can say this, though this is less a description of me and more so some of my lab mates, yes I am outing them).

Thank you for your service random strangers! These are a type of person that really care more about the rocks after they are dissolved and run through a machine to give results. Things they love: strong acids (How else will you dissolve a rock), machines that will explode if you turn them on wrong, excel spreadsheets (we actually hate them though). All joking aside, Typically what these people really like about geology is being able to understand the 'life' the rock had. What did this rock used to be? What does this represent? How has this rock changed and evolved through time? With these elemental changes, what does that imply of the process this rock experienced?

You might be thinking to yourself now "how are these different from the questions listed for a field geologist?" and to that I think I would say scale. I think in general a geochemist looks at things that are smaller but can have bigger implications and a field geologist looks at the big picture. Its important to note that most research is always best when these two are working together. And when you think of it that way you can create some fun interactions with these two characters.

Personality wise, I feel like its all over the place, I have met several nice geochemists and bunch of not so nice geochemists. A geochemist will more than likely have a rock collection, but likely it will be of rocks they do not study. They will pull long nights at the lab and I feel like they will always be reading about something they 'just don't quite grasp' while critiquing or complementing the paper. Most geochemists still like to get out of the lab every once and get some fresh air, (they chose to study nature for a reason), but they don't do it enough.

The last kind of geologist is a modeler/geophysicist, these guys! These guys... I don't know a lot of them, I know a couple. So my understanding might be skewed incorrectly. Let me know!

Anyway! Geophysicists can be interested in earthquakes sure, it is important to know what is causing these major disasters, but most of the time (not every geophysicist uses earthquakes, this is just an example) they are interested in what they can learn using earthquakes! which is really so crazy! So, what a geophysicist will do is study how the waves more through the earth, because waves travel at different speeds through different solids and liquids (some waves don't even travel through liquids). Soooo, what are they curious about? The mantle and most importantly, the CORE. Yup, cool stuff. Anyway why did I include modeling in this also? Because using these observations typically you would make a working model to better understand how the system works. Models can also be made for fluid movement in the earth, volcanics, and a ton of other things, but the work is similar to that of a geophysicist. This is very big picture stuff, trying to figure out how the earth works in general. Also the key here is, from my understanding, it is a lot of math and a lot of coding. Which actually means a lot of people from those backgrounds find geology later in life.

Geochemists and geophysicists often work together and could potentially have a very good or very bad relationship.

Personality wise, these guys are always on a computer honestly, sometimes they will be stuck waiting for their model to finish running for days at a time. Just like a geochemist, you will find them outside occasionally, maybe to put in a new system, but more than any other geologist I feel like modelers are exceptionally good at not making their job their hobby. They may do martial arts, art, baking/cooking, owning plants, etc., on the side much more than the other geologists. These people are super smart, but these folks are probably the ones who know the least about like 'generic' geology, as in mineral ID and stuff, but they seem very nice and are typically pretty introverted.

There are many other kinds of geologists, like the geologist who kinda wanted to do marine biology but there were no jobs in marine biology so they study the ocean floor OR they studied paleontology of oceanic critters, so they could backdoor get into marine biology somehow and many others, or geologists who study the surface as it is today, but now lets talk about how all this can be helpful with writing.

I am making a bullet list of things that will apply to your character A=All F=field geologist P=petrologist and geochemist and M=Modeler and Geophysicist

A: It is important to know that one person cannot fill all of these roles as a character, and it is okay for your character to say "that's not my thing, but I have a buddy".

A: Feel free to make your science character have a very specific interest, not only will it probably make it easier for you in terms of research, but it is also more realistic.

F,P: Your character is likely to point out things that your other characters might not notice while walking, especially if they are a geochemist and field geologist. It will just be small comments here and there, like "Oh! Is this basalt?" before they might amuse themselves examining the rocks (It is a good way to get rid of the character)

F,P: There pack will be full of rocks, you will try to pick up their bag, and it will be exceedingly heavy

P,M: You are likely to find them crashing in their lab/office because they worked too late

F: They will drop everything for an excuse to go outside for 'vacation' but they will inevitably do geology the entire trip.

P,M: Probably behind on reading, and probably have a migraine from staring at too many screens.

P: Unsure if their hand is itchy because of dry skin or if they accidentally got acid on their hands (Some acids [HF] don't immediately burn your skin).

M: Always harassed by the scared general public because of a small earthquake that happened where is 'shouldn't have'.

Anyway! If you have anything geology related that you would like me to write about please feel free to ask! I am running out of ideas for my writing guides and am probably going to switch to different content soon!

[fieryanmitsu]

I’m sorry I can’t be normal about this event 😭😭😭. Just going to cry and word vomit some more over Same Age Group ajwbrkfkskakwkngnfkakaknks!!! LOOK AT THEEEEEM! 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭

I have so many feelings about these three and their friendship. Just look at how relaxed and buddy buddy they are with each other in this image! 😭 I know they’re all tipsy, but it’s still a fact that they’re great friends and their badge for this event is literally along the lines of “today, at the usual place”. It just makes me so warm and fuzzy that they regularly go out to eat and drink together. Like every time I see them talk about it in voicelines, etc. my heart just clenches and now we get a whole card, song and event about them?!?! I die.

And also the fact that the event teaser description is “The "now" that was unimaginable back then is here.” absolutely destroys me (in the best possible way—I’m being bombarded with all the good feels 😭😭😭). For Tasuku and Tsumugi, they’ve finally reconciled after their fallout and now are acting together when they thought it would never happen again. And, more significantly, the fact that Itaru is part of their group now… when, before Mankai, he never would have thought he’d have friends like this. 😭

And it hits even harder when we look at their gacha cards!!

LIKE WTF?! I wasn’t ready for this?!?! What do you mean Itaru is in the background and implies that these three were so CLOSE to being in each other’s lives during their high school years?!?! I daydream constantly about the “what ifs” of Itaru meeting them earlier in life (like I think about it so much I wrote a whole damn AU series about it 😭) and here it is dangling in our faces 😭😭😭. I just love that the theme of their unbloomed cards is all of them in high school, but then when you get to their bloomed cards…

It’s so obvious that they all have such a presence in each other’s lives! 😭 If we look at that event description teaser especially from Itaru’s POV, he never would have imagined he’d be regularly rubbing elbows with two buddies at an izakaya let alone being so comfortable with people that he would TIE HIS SILLY LITTLE HAIRTIE ON TASUKU’S HAIR and DRINK OUT OF A DUMBBELL BEER GLASS (which he is probably doing out of jokes to Tasuku or maybe just straight up got it as a gift from him).

I’m just so happy that Liber obviously found this friendship so important and significant that they gave us this content and I’m here for it 😭😭😭.

Also the song is SO GOOD?!?! It’s so chill but catchy!! I will cry if they ever perform it at a future Blooming Live concert!! I don’t understand the lyrics but the title of the song being “accord” also just hits me in the feels! 😭 It’s such a positive word to describe their relationship!

I really hope someone will translate the event story, event cards and the song lyrics one day!! If anyone sees the translations somewhere, please hit me up!! Or if any translators wants the raws for translation I can totally supply them!

As a side now, I swear SSR Tsumugi gacha cards are always so hard for me to obtain 🙃. It only took 1,595 gems (11 whole 10-pulls) for me to get one copy of him 🫠🫠🫠. I’ll stop talking now and go back to desperately grinding the rest of my unread content for more gems to try and bloom him 😭😭😭.

[nowoyas]

Koi no Yokan 6: hide behind whatever you can (Nishinoya Yuu x Reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

Summary: As exam week drags on, you spend the time out of practice and largely being bothered by your latest pastime.

Warnings: general series warnings

Word count: ~3000

Exam week drags on. You wonder a million times over the course of the week whether you made the right decision in joining, whether it's a good idea to even keep talking to Noya. He's nice, whatever his intentions are don't seem malicious, but the problem with having friends who insist on knowing you is that at some point he's going to want to actually know you. And now he has your number, which he's using liberally.

Each morning the week of exams, you get a text: good morning! Please marry me!. Even though he doesn't track you down before school, though it'd be easy, he goes out of his way to say that much to you and leaves you alone unless you reach out to him first.

And you, lonely in the afternoons like you always are, always reach out.

[name] to Noya at 16:15

[name]: I don't think I'm allowed to bully you for the popsicle thing anymore

Noya: oh PLEASE tell

[name]: [image attached. Image description: a bowl of cooked white rice with what appears to be a handful of crushed potato chips piled on top.]

[name]: this is what the 4pm dinner of CHAMPIONS looks like. I should go to culinary school

Noya: oh yeah there's no way I'm letting you bully me for the popsicles ever again

Noya: why are you eating dinner at 4pm???

[name]: bored

Noya: come over then. I own at least one video game

[name]: no I have this luscious spread of food

[name]: I worked so hard to put rice in the rice cooker and then ruin it with spicy potato chips

[name]: how do you know I even care about video games???

Noya: you called volleyball *pvp don't let the ball touch the floor*

Noya: *pvp*

Noya: that's gamer words, [name]-san

[name]: …I can’t believe this

Noya: don't you wanna see Soba and her toe socks? :(

Noya: she's pacing around the house

Noya: she misses you already

[name]: …fine alright I'll come over when I'm done eating my Sad Rice Surprise GOD

[name]: bribing me with a cat.

[name]: unbelievable.

You only come over twice that week, but the rest of the time is interspersed with stupid jokes, cursed dinners you just threw together, and idle chatter just to keep your brain off of how quiet your house is. Once while you're making dinner, he calls, which forces you to make a real dinner instead of doing fucked up shit to a bowl of rice.

The entire time, he asks questions. They're half-prying, you think, little things like what are your hobbies and do you like to cook?

"I don't, really," you admit, stirring a pot absently. "I like all the individual actions, and I like making a meal come together, but I don't like putting in all this effort if I'm the only one eating it. Food only tastes good if someone else gets to eat it, you know?"

"But you get to eat it. And what about your dad?"

Silence stretches between you as you look for a reply. "He usually gets convenience store bentos instead of eating my food. I guess I'm probably not that good at cooking, haha!" That's great. Saying haha out loud is super convincing.

"That can't be right. You sent me a picture of your dinner earlier this week that looked like some real gourmet shit."

"What, the plain white rice topped with hot chips? Or the fried rice that I overseasoned?"

"Yeah!" He pauses. "If you bring me some at school, then someone else gets to eat it, right?"

"…are you just trying to get me to cook for you?"

"Guilty." You can hear him smile over the phone.

Still, it's… not a bad idea. "Fine. Lunch tomorrow after exams?"

"Deal! I'll come pick you up."

You smile, fall back into easy chatter as you add some spices to the pot. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

~

As the final final exam closes and you are all dismissed for a short lunch, Yachi scrambles to grab a folder from her bag and approach you. She drops the folder on your desk, closed, her eyes alight with excitement as she speaks.

"I picked these up from the print shop last night!" she says. "Are you free to put them up with me after school? Or tomorrow, maybe?"

"Oh, shoot, the posters? Let me see!"

She grins, opens the folder to show you what she settled on, and shit. They're super fucking professional-looking. They barely look like a high schooler was involved at any stage of the process. The lights of the volleyball gym shine a halo around Hinata's form. He's at the peak of his jump, preparing to spike. The words, The Crows return to the national skies once again and Return of the "Little Giant" frame him, a neat little box at the bottom including information about the request for donations and how to contact Takeda-sensei about donating to cap it off.

"What the hell, Yachi-san?" you breathe. "These are amazing. You made these?"

They're… really amazing.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. What have you done for the club? It's not like you're gonna be able to take credit for helping put them up. You wouldn't, anyway—all that's gonna entail is going around a couple shops and handing them out to willing shopkeepers. Hardly anything like this.

"You know how I said my mom runs a design company?" She rubs the back of her neck. "She's taught me a little here and there. Honestly, my first draft was no good at all, so she helped me think about it a little more, but…"

"But you made them," you finish. "You're amazing."

She goes fully red at that. "Eh? Um, n-no, that's not…"

"Woah," Noya breathes from behind you.

You yelp, jerk away from him. "Dude, you can't just—"

He laughs softly, eyes trained on the poster Yachi's shown you. "These are amazing!"

Yachi shifts nervously, avoiding both your eyes. "Um, thank you both."

"These are for the volleyball club?"

"All Yachi-san's doing. I'm gonna help her put them up… you said after school today, right?"

She nods, wringing her hands together. "Only if you're not busy."

"Not at all. Let's do it."

"Oh! Great!" She glances at Noya. "Um, Nishinoya-san, you came to steal [surname]-chan away, I'm guessing?"

He nods, beaming. "Someone promised me."

You laugh. "Right, right. Yachi-san, we'll talk later?"

She nods, and Noya barely lets you grab your bag before he's dragging you out of the classroom. He speaks brightly as he pulls you along—apparently towards the roof. The rainy season isn't quite over yet, but it's close enough and sunny out, so you'll let him have this. "Those posters Yachi-san made really do look professional. We're gonna look so cool with those!"

"Yeah." It comes out perhaps more bitterly than you'd meant for it to—you're not bitter, really. Really.

He pauses. Eyes you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. It's the last day of exams and I'm just a little exhausted, that's all."

The look on his face says he doesn't believe you, but he can't press it if you don't let him. You force a smile, pick up your pace so you're dragging him along. "Come on. You wanna try my cooking, right?"

~

His first bite of your food earns you another marriage proposal, thoughtless and breezy. You can't help but notice, as you sit and share lunches, that Noya isn't how he usually is—not quite as bright, not quite as high-energy.

Maybe you should ask him what's wrong. Then again, you don't really deserve to ask about it when you won't tell him anything real about yourself.

You push the last bite of food around your bento before sliding it to him. "Here. You get the last of it."

"Really? Thanks!" He snaps it up and talks with his mouth full once he has. "You really are a good cook, you know."

"Thanks."

"You're sounding all down again. What's up with you?"

"What's up with you? You're the one who's acting all like… normal-key."

"Normal-key."

"Yeah. You're normally high-key. Right now you're acting like a normal person. It's weird."

He sighs. "You actually noticed?"

"Of course I did. What's up?"

"That last exam kicked my ass. I don't think I'm going to Tokyo."

"What? Of course you are."

"I don't believe you," he grumbles. "I think it's cruel and unusual punishment to make us do all the exams back to back. Of course my brain was gonna shut down by the end."

"Why do you think you're gonna fail?"

"I'm not cut out for this! I was able to sort of focus with someone there to keep me on track, but the rest of the time I just get distracted and—and even during the stupid test it's like my brain just refuses to focus on that stuff!" He tosses his hands out in frustration.

You reach forward, pat his arm reassuringly. "You've been working hard. Did you finish the exam?"

"Barely. I didn't get to finish checking over my answers like you told me to, but the half I was able to check seemed alright when I could actually get my brain on them."

"Half is passing. More than passing, actually. You and Tanaka-senpai have both been working really hard, you know? And I was there for enough of it that I can say for certain—you're a smart guy. You're gonna be fine."

"[name]-san…"

You pull back, only for him to catch your wrist.

"Will you still marry me even if I fail my exams?"

"You're not going to fail. But yes, if you ask me nine hundred and seventy-five more times, I'll think about it."

"Yes! Okay, so, that aside—what's up with you, really? Don't think I didn't notice you trying to deflect earlier."

"See?" you grin as the warning bell for the end of lunch sounds. "Smart."

You do not let him wriggle an answer out of you. Today, you escape with your life.

~

Yachi seems to blossom as your outing together stretches on. Some shops, you enter together, always the same script: Hi! We're managers for the Karasuno volleyball club and the club is currently looking for donations to fund us as we work towards Nationals. Would it be okay if we left this poster with you to hang up?

Invariably, the answers are positive, especially after seeing the posters. On occasion, the two of you will split up, one of you taking the establishments next to or across the street from one another, but every time you enter together, you can tell how much more confident she is already.

This is good for her.

The constant compliments on her professional-level work bolster her. The good response to the poster-hanging requests has her shoulders relaxing more and more. You think that, probably, once she gets used to manager stuff, it'll be second nature to her. She'll grow into this role beautifully, and by her third year she'll probably be just as ethereal as Shimizu is to you now.

You keep your charming little smile on your face and speak politely as you distribute posters. By the time it's getting late enough to think about dinner, you're basically done. You briefly consider asking if she wants to grab dinner at one of the places nearby, since you're already in town, but instead you walk her to the bus with that same strained smile.

"Thank you so much for your help! I don't think I could have gotten all those handed out without you."

You laugh, shake your head. "Nah, you would've been fine. You're a natural at this stuff."

"What? B-but I was completely falling apart at the start there. If I didn't have you to work off of, I would never have been able to get the words out right and probably would have totally gotten shut down."

"Uh, not once they actually looked at the posters. Did you hear any of those shopkeepers talking about them? I'm telling you, they're amazing. You probably didn't even need to say anything and they would've put them up anyway."

She rubs the back of her neck, cheeks red. Of course she has to be cute, too. She's done all this cool stuff, and you haven't even gotten a fucking permission slip signed.

"I-it's sort of amazing hearing you praise me so highly," she admits. "I mean, you never seem to try really hard at anything, but you just get it."

You blink. "Uh, no. I'm—trying a lot harder than I'd like to admit. It's probably the reason I don't have the energy to get excited about anything. I use it all trying to do stuff well and hiding the fact that I'm trying."

"What? But, you're so cool, though! I mean, you've got Nishinoya-senpai head over heels for you! And you've probably got it together better than anyone else I know! I mean, during practices you're always saving me from getting hit and stuff and I can barely react at all until I would've already been hit… I think you're probably way better at this than me. And you're already starting to get everything with volleyball, right? You follow along way better than I do during practice."

You shrug. "That's just because Noya-senpai took the time to explain it to me. We could always sit down and compare notes over lunch or something so we both understand it better, now that we're not tutoring?"

She smiles, nods. The bus arrives, and you wave her off, turning to make the trek back to your house in silence.

You'll probably quit once she's confident enough to stand on her own. At least they'll have a good manager to rely on.

~

You survive the weekend the way you always do, but suddenly, it's intolerable. You pace restlessly around the house for the first few hours alone, and then put on shoes and go running, half-expecting Noya to materialize out of nowhere to run with you. But he doesn't.

You've given yourself until Monday to get a signed permission slip for the Tokyo games.

There's a chance that your father comes home this weekend, so you spend most of the weekend pacing and hoping he will, permission slip in hand. It takes hours, too many, until you're once again waking up on the couch to find him standing in the doorway, hurt in his eyes.

"Can you sign my permission slip?" you ask in lieu of a real greeting. "It's for some away games for the volleyball club. We're going to Tokyo."

"Tokyo? Wait, volleyball club?"

You raise up the paper. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure it's blanket permission for later games and stuff, too. But, you know, you said it was a good idea the other day, so it'd be nice if I could actually participate." The lie doesn't even taste bad in your mouth.

"Oh, right. When did I say that?"

"When you gave me the debit card for groceries? What, were you just completely ignoring me?"

"I'm sorry," he says. He sounds like he means it. "Here, I'll sign it. Tell me about your volleyball club. Are you playing, or…" He takes the paper from you, scribbles on the appropriate lines.

"Managing for the boys' team."

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow. "Those boys nice?"

The surge of temper startles even you. "Yeah, 'too-san, they're really nice."

"I see," he says, and that's it. No more prying, no weird protectiveness you've always hated the idea of but seem to want to hear now, no questions. Just I see and a signed permission slip. Just easy lies.

That night, during the short period in which you're out of your mind, you reach for your phone.

[name] to Noya at 01:37

[name]: if this is stupid please ignore it

[name]: but when you see this can I have a picture of sobas toe beans?

[name]: its important

~

Noya to [name] at 06:12

Noya: [image attached. Image description: the underside of Soba the cat's front paw. One toe bean is black, while the rest are pink.]

Noya: [image attached. Image description: the same cat paw, except a single fingertip is pressing into it from off-camera. The paw pad squishes around the fingertip.]

Noya: wanna talk about it?

[name]: would it be completely impossible for you to believe I just wanted to see her beans at one in the morning?

[name]: they're good beans, senpai

Noya: you're right, they ARE good beans

~

He meets you as he usually does. On the way to practice that morning, he doesn't press about the night's bean request, simply chats you up like everything's the same as it has been. You fire back as best as you can manage, but your mood just won't seem to lift.

Morning passes like normal, and classes drag on. It feels a little pointless to be in classes right after finals like this when the term ends in a couple of weeks, but a lot of things feel a little pointless. You get used to it. Lunch, you consider talking to Yachi, but she's busy talking to her friends, so you pick over your food alone, staring out the window.

And then there's afternoon practice.

Though one or two guys complain about the heat, Daichi insists, and so everyone's wearing their jackets for your and Yachi's official induction. They display the backs proudly as Shimizu dispenses a club jacket of your own to each of you, shout a welcome that would have scared you shitless a few short weeks ago.

You look at the back of your new jacket, the white Karasuno High School Volleyball Club embroidered there, stark against the black. Bow. Give them the polite "I look forward to working with you!" and move on.

That night, walking home, Noya says: "Oh, right. I meant to ask this earlier, but I didn't want to ruin the moment."

"Dare I ask?"

"You were smiling really nice when you got your club jacket. Will you marry me?"

You pull the jacket in question tight around your shoulders and look away without answer.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory