#but my brain has been garbage lately

[acmelab]

stuff i doodled when i was wondering if they ever have to deal with their fur getting fluffier for the winter

[redbootsindoriath]

I had a friend come to visit last week, and one evening as we sat around drawing together we decided to both draw that scene where Pippin finds Merry after the battle.  I’ve drawn the scene before but not in a while and I’ve changed the design for both the characters.  And even though I am still getting over that art block from this year I had fun.  (Also that Merry-with-braids post has been doing well lately so I decided maybe I should finish off today’s art dump with this one since he has braids here as well.)

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[kenobihater]

the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

[hecksupremechips]

Girl help I keep thinking about freaking persona 4

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[eoieopda]

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

[takes1]

For a request, would you be interested in a bully Dabi x male reader (maybe in a college AU or something. You can decide if you want it to be in the LOV instead)? Reader is constantly picked on and demeaned by him, but one day maybe in a private area reader is cornered, some suggestive content goes on/maybe noncon depending what you want to do, and the reader speaks up when the situation almost goes too far (and normally he is quiet. He’s that nerdy kid afraid to disappoint his parents/and a virgin. So he is scared of what was going on in that scenario.) After, you can decide what goes on from there!

Also to add, my bad about asking make characters. I did read the rules but had no idea what afab of amab means, should of looked it up before asking lol 😂

you're okay! no worries :) i really liked writing this, it's very different from my other stuff. i'm so sorry this has taken so long! will write a part 2 soon and probably end it there!

warnings. barely sfw, slight noncon themes, creepy vibes

details. male!reader / college au / frat au / inexperienced!reader / loser!reader / corruptionkink!dabi / loser!reader / degradation / praise / power play / slight noncon / yandere!dabi / 1.2k words

🤍 scenario series. more dabi and others here.

more links. my ao3 / dabi headcanons / requests open

"No, mom--,"

You almost tripped over your untied shoelace for the third time in the past two minutes but continued to ignore it. Stopping to fix it was scarier than getting a face full of dirty cement.

"No, it's-, okay, uppercase L, did you try the uppercase L yet?"

A rush of adrenaline plumped your veins for a fleeting moment and you gripped your cracked phone like a lifeline. The sound of shoes other than your beat-up Vans scraped across the sidewalk. You turned and there was nothing but the drip of residual rain from gutters, and some trash brushing by a garbage can.

Of course, a Mcdonald's wrapper would be responsible for your fatal heart attack. Or your mother, who didn't understand how to capitalize a letter on her keyboard to enter her bank password.

There was another half mile to your dorm building. When she called you halfway through your journey back from your last late class, you were relieved to have something else on your mind other than the threat of seeing a Brother around.

Pledge Week was Hell. Actual Hell. This must've been your divine punishment for being such a giant fucking loser your entire life-- a cruel joke from God designed to say, 'Look at this dumbass! He's paying hundreds of dollars to get hazed for a week, then ostracized for the smallest hope of feeling like he's a part of something!'

"It's the left side, mom. It says shift on it," You sighed.

This was the first week you hadn't commuted home for the weekend. With no social skills to bank on, there was nothing to do on the weekends except drive two hours home. At least you could be comfortable there. Not necessarily wanted, until they had a technology issue that required a Cybersecurity major -or just any person with brain cells- to fix, but you had your own quiet room.

It didn't change the fact that the Brothers of Alpha Sigma Phi betted on you to join them as a joke. You didn't have any connections or lineage like the other Pledges, but it was funny to pick the scrawny kid and see how long he'd last.

You didn't know how you lasted this long. It was a sort of tolerance that you built up, because Alpha Sig gave you something to do, somewhere to be.

A semester as a Pledge; running errands, attending parties but not allowed to drink, getting shit on at every turn because that was just the culture here and you thought, maybe after you graduate to become a Brother in a couple of days, you would have some real friends.

Another thudding sound of footsteps much heavier than yours. This time, they didn't stop, and neither did you.

The orange glow of streetlamps every 15 feet became markers for your sanity. Only nine more to go before you were at your building.

Your stomach was in your throat. The hand in your pocket clutched your knife.

"You got it?" Your voice was uneven but your mother didn't notice. You wished she would stay on the phone longer, but there was nothing else to talk about.

Even the other seven Pledges didn't associate with you. If they did, they got screwed with more. This week had become a sick kind of lonely, fast.

It was like clockwork. As soon as your phone left your ear, a voice much closer than you anticipated shocked your muscles still.

"Hey, Pledge," It was by far the worst Brother imaginable; the one who seemed to take personal pleasure in your torment above anyone else, "The fuck do ya think you're talkin' to?"

You kept your hand in your pocket. Pulling a knife on him would erase all progress, possibly even make this whole semester's worth of work useless, but you weren't about to surrender your only line of defense when you weren't sure if it would get violent.

Dabi was deceptively glittery under the streetlamp. His piercings gave you something else to look at to avoid eye contact.

"My mom--," You could barely get your words out.

"You're not supposed to speak to anyone this week," He lowered his voice and approached slow because he knew you wouldn't move.

Narrowed eyes watched another student on the other side of the deserted street.

Two years ago, Alpha Sig had been under an investigation for hazing (rightfully so, you could imagine), so the older Brothers were careful about what they said and did in public. In private, everything was still on the table.

So far, the worst thing you were forced to do was the bottling line. This was an activity where they made you and the other Pledges stand in a line to drink an entire bottle of various combined liquors. Each of you had to drink a fair amount, or the last man had to drink whatever was left. You were the last man.

This was already after a knowledge test about the fraternity. If a Pledge got a question wrong about the history of Alpha Sig, he was forced to drink.

Eventually, they made you drink whenever somebody else got a question wrong because you were answering everything correctly.

You had never thrown up so violently at the end of one night before. You weren't sure how you made it back to your dorm, but you woke up at 3 in the afternoon the next morning and didn't bother going to the rest of your classes.

"That includes calling your mommy," Dabi mocked, close enough to be in striking distance.

Every Pledge knew to stay far away from this crazy bastard. He was joked to be so masochistic that he was the one responsible for the investigation in the first place.

But he sought you out so much you had almost seen him every day this week. Enough to count every piercing on his face, wonder what each of his tattoos meant and why he had so many.

He took a glance down to your hand.

"Whaddya got a hard-on or something?"

You shot your hand out of your pocket, knife-less, defenseless, and embarrassed, sparking a smirk across his face.

Your dick was not hard right now, but it wasn't opposed to getting off at the thought of Dabi's big hands, among other things.

It was worth wondering if they could all tell. You weren't flamboyant, but you supposed that not being straight wasn't their only reason to shun you.

You wondered if they knew about Dabi's equality tattoo, a small but mighty symbol under his arm that you managed to get a glimpse of at one party after staring at him too long. He made you his personal servant many times for that problem throughout the semester.

It gave you the chance to pick up on things that weren't so traditional about him.

In truth, it only made your staring worse because you were certain he was more similar to you than anyone would care to think.

He closed the distance between you and sized you up while you put your hands behind your back. You couldn't believe you had forgotten to until now; that was what your class was supposed to do when a Brother called on them.

Dabi's breath was warm and minty on the side of your face when he muttered, "You're gonna show me your dorm, Pledge."

A big, strong hand shoved you hard. Back into the direction you had been walking. There was not much you could do now, other than shakily guide him back to the one place you felt safe.

taglist:

none. reply to be added for part 2!

[stevebabey]

hiii ruby !!! congrats on ur milestone i think ur so cool and funny and ofc so so deserving :D for ❤️‍🔥 can i request forehead against forehead from prompt list 5 bc i am a sucker for it <33 thank u ily !

ahhh!!! anna you are so lovely <3 thank u sm for picking this one it opened pandoras BOX in my brain and i think this is by far my absolute favourite i've written this whole damn celebration & its bcos its, of course, friends to lovers <3 - 1.7k+

The wish is far-fetched.

You knew that from the beginning and yet, like wishes were stackable, like wishing for something over and over would improve its odds of happening, you couldn’t help yourself. Every eyelash, every time the hands of the clock line up at 11.11, you wish desperately.

Eyes scrunched closed, you wish for Steve.

You have him, of course, just not quite as you want him.

It feels selfish, the hungry feeling that rises in your chest when you look at him too long, eyes drinking in every detail you adore. Long lashes, hazel eyes, lips so pink it wasn’t fair. You want him all to yourself. These are not the usual thoughts of a best friend.

Sometimes, the yearning seems to carve out every part of you til you feel hollow inside; because you’d offer it all out to him, every piece of yourself between your cupped hands, his if he only wanted it.

You want him to want it. To want you. Badly.

So, you wish. At this point, it feels more like a habit than anything — the clock hits eleven minutes past 11 and you send a little prayer out to the universe to give you this one thing. You don’t notice how Steve notices.

He can’t quite connect the dots in the beginning, can’t see the pattern that strings together all the things he’s noticed. How from time to time, you’ll close your eyes and squint just a bit— but then, quick as it happens, it’s gone. You’ll open your eyes, look over back at him, and continue on as if nothing has occurred.

Steve doesn’t pry, even though he really wants to — the first time you notice him watching you, he raises his brows, a silent what was that? with a hope you’ll clue him in. He wants in on all your secrets. But in an instant, he can see the embarrassment creep across your features, so he drops it, waving his hand, and resumes talking, eyes back on the road ahead of him.

After a month of subtlety catching the habit of yours that he's come to cherish, the sweet scrunch of your eyes and gentle clench of your fists at your side, Steve notices the clock.

You check the clock, most of the time, before your eyes flutter closed. It happens late in the morning and close to midnight. But then again also at random intervals, at times he’s not expecting. The frustrating pattern evades him even though he’s noticing. Noticing is, infuriatingly, not enough.

It takes another month for Steve to realise you’re wishing.

He’s enamored with the habit now — especially, now he knows you’re sending little hopes, blowing on eyelashes with the fervor of a little kid. The craving to know your secrets, to be trusted with your wishes, has grown ten-fold since he first noticed. Steve notices just about everything about you now.

It’s hard not to. What started as trying to comprehend your peculiar pattern, has become... something entirely different. Steve feels helpless to do anything but admire you now. His feelings for you have become startlingly fond, borderline sappy.

The sound of your laughter and how it threads gold into his days marvels him. The colour of your eyes in the morning light. How you curl up in his passenger seat like it’s the comfiest place you’ve ever known, like you could sit there all day with him. If he asked. 

He’s pretty sure his heart strayed from best friend territory the moment he figured out the wishes. Maybe, he’s fooling himself and it’s always been this way.

It’s on his mind, even as the two of you sit at the back of the Hawk theatre, some garbage Sci-Fi film flickering on the screen. Normally, the back of the cinema was unofficially reserved for couples that wanted to make-out — Steve had pulled that move on a dozen dates. Picked a cheesy romance and the cozy darkness of the back of the theatre.

This is not the same, he knows. It’s not a cheesy romance film, you’re not quite at the back, and most importantly, this is not a date.

Steve really wishes it was.

“Hey,” Your whisper shakes him from his thoughts. Steve’s gaze moves from boring into the back of the chair in front of him to your concerned face. “Y’okay?” 

You’ve turned towards him, shoulders hunched over like you might disturb other people in the cinema if you’re too big. It’s silly, there’s barely anyone else in here but you and Steve. A couple people a few rows forward.

Steve nods, throat dry. You don’t look convinced, eyes narrowing for a moment as if you’ll say something when your expression shifts. You focus on something below his eye.

“What?” Steve whispers, too aware of your fixed stare. His nerves creep up, feeling a bit flushed beneath your attention. Your hand comes up, reaching out to graze across his cheek and Steve forces himself to stay still. To not melt into the touch.

“S’just an eyelash.” You whisper, still focused. Thumb moving gently as you can, you sweep the eyelash beneath his eye off his cheek. It moves an inch but remains stubbornly on his skin. You huff silently, turn his way a little more, and lean in closer to try pinch it. It takes a moment as you try your best not to pinch Steve at the same time.

When you finally snag it between your fingertips, victory comes in the form of your pleased smile. It takes another moment to realise just how close you’ve gotten to Steve. Leaned over, his breath fans over your face and you can see the film reflected in his eyes, action sequences playing far, far away.

Faintly, you think that if you had your wish already, you could lean in a few inches further and steal a kiss. You think of the eyelash in your fingertips.

The thought knocks sense back into you, blinking hard, but just as you go to pull back Steve’s eyes flash down to your lips. He licks his own, then swallows, looks back up at you. A wretched thread of hopes keeps you from pulling back just yet — desperately praying you’re not reading into nothing.

Steve doesn’t pull back. His heart has hiked so far up his throat he’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all.

“What are you wishing for?” He croaks, too quiet. You hear it anyways.

Surprise shows on your face, lips parting and eyes widening just a moment. Steve wants you to give back the eyelash just so he can make his very own wish right now.

“How did you... know?” The last word is meek, only audible because Steve is so close. He wants to be closer. He moves an inch, recalling every single time he’s gotten the signals right in the past to keep him from losing his nerve. Tries not to think about what he might lose should he be wrong this time.

“You,” He huffs a little laugh, searching your eyes, trying to see if it’s the same hope he feels inside that he’s seeing in your eyes. “You close your eyes and wish on every 11.11. And— and eyelashes and dandelions too. You do this little squint, like you’re thinking real hard about what you want.”

Unable to help himself, Steve steals another glance at your lips as your tongue darts out to lick them nervously. His chest rises and falls a bit fast, nerves urging his pulse to run faster, faster. God, he’s nervous. Steve can’t remember ever being so nervous at the mere chance of just a kiss.

“So, what're you wishing for?” He asks again, in a whisper just for you two.

The film illuminates the side of your face, shadows dancing across the lines of your cheek. You’re beautiful, Steve thinks, achingly so. The silence twists his heart painfully. He doesn’t know you’re merely gathering your hopes to spit out the honest answer.

“You.”

You whisper the word quickly, knowing if you have a moment to think about it you’ll tuck it and all your selfish desires back away into your heart. But you ache for this moment — hunger devouring your insides with how much you want to kiss the boy before you. Enough that you’ll risk it.

It’s worth the risk.

The single word sets Steve off and he closes the distance between you in an instant, lips against yours. It’s gentle as he can manage while his heart works overtime pumping molten-hot affection into every part of his body. He feels giddy. He nearly forgets to memorise the curve of your lips, the warmth of this against his own, it feels so deliriously good to be kissing you. He thinks he’s been missing this his whole life.

You look a little dazed when Steve pulls back, lips with a sheen that catches the flashes of the cinema screen. You don’t speak, just blink and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, mind miles away. Your lack of a smile worries Steve; he feels like he could burst with how he wants to beam if this is what you want too.

He gathers his courage and presses forward again, til his forehead against yours. Tells you what he knows to be true, what you’ve been dying to hear. “You have me.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his and you give Steve a flood of relief, lips pulling into a smile. A small laugh of disbelief titters out of you, your smile transforming into a grin that betrays your utter happiness. This close, you let the want take over you and lean in to steal another kiss off his lips. He gives it to you sweetly and oh-so-willingly.

You stay this close, nose nuzzling against his, both your heads bowed to meet each other in the middle.

“I’ve been wishing on you for months,” You admit bashfully, your whisper wobbling in your embarrassment. You’re worried the enormity of your want for him will scare him off. Steve’s grin somehow gets wider, eyes somehow fonder. His voice comes out a bit scratchy, all sticky with affection.

“I think you’ve had me the whole time.”

It’s the honest truth. You’re not even mad about lost time because when he kisses you again like that, there’s no doubt that now? He’s all yours.

[loveyjeongie]

Momo Unnie!

word count: 1,972

who: nd!little!momo, cg!nayeon (+middle!dahyun for a sec if u squint very hard, jihyo who is also having a bad day, sana)

“Momo unnie can you help me take out the trash?” “Unnie could you help me with this assignment?” “Momo-ya can you go to the store and grab some milk? We’re all out” “Momo unnie!! can you come here?” “Momo!” “Unnie-“

All day long Momo has been tugged around, back and forth while listening to her name being called from all angles of her apartment. At this point her head was beginning to throb with the worst headache she’s had in months. She wondered how many more times she could hear anything at all before her body exploded.

It bothered her specifically because when she woke up this morning, she was in a good mood. Made her bed, showered, ate some frozen waffles that weren’t for her but she couldn’t resist anyways, and despite her jumping a little more than usual at things, she felt okay. Then her presence started to become a popular request.

“Momo unnie, can you take out the trash for me? I’m running late to drop off Chaeyoung and Tzuyu at their workshop.”

“Sure Ji, leave it to me.” She smiled and thought that it was a simple enough favor she wouldn’t actually mind much, and the garbage was stinky anyways.

Momo took the bag out and tied it into a knot, throwing it over her shoulder. As soon as she reaches the front door, she hears her name again.

“Momo unnie! are you gonna be out long?”

“Nah, i’m just taking the trash out for Jihyo. What do you need, hyun?”

“Oh thank god— I was worried you were going to be gone forever, can you help me with this assignment for my music class?”

Momo hesitated a bit. That would definitely take longer than the trash favor.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can. Let me take this out and i’ll come by your room, okay?”

Dahyun yelled back a “thanks”, already back up the stairs and halfway through her own doorway.

————————————

“Okay, I think you’re doing really well with this part. If you practice it a little more i’ll help you record it so you can send it to your teacher, if you want?”

“Really?! that would help so much unnie, thank you.”

“Of course, if you need any more help just let—“

“MOMO-YA!!” Momo covered her ears as both girls turned around to see Nayeon standing in the doorway.

“Why are you yelling?!” even though Nayeon was normally a loud person, her brain felt like it just rattled inside of her skull.

“Sorry! Can you go to the store please, we’re out of milk.”

Momo sighed. Yet 20 minutes later she appeared back in the kitchen with a gallon of milk and a chocolate bar in her hand.

She moved to the living room, where she sat down on the couch and began to munch on her candy and the cup of milk she poured herself to go with it. She didn’t really feel like she was there. The tv was off, because she was already starting to feel like things were getting too loud, and she just wanted silence. Her brain was beginning to feel incredibly off. Each time she chewed, it made her feel better.

“Is that candy?” Momo jumped and covered her ears again as Sana suddenly popped up behind her on the couch.

“It’s… a chocolate bar. Just got it from the store.”

“Oh!! Can I have a piece? Please please please please unnie~”

She felt her eyes watering, and yet she couldn’t say no. Not when Sana was looking at her with her signature pouty face that always got her everything she wanted. Even tho it was all that was grounding her at the moment.

“Uhm I guess you can…” She looked down at the wrapper and took the chocolate out. “Here, have the rest”

“Thank you unnie!!!” Momo felt herself flinch for the third time that morning.

————————————

Finally, Momo had gone back to her room. Lying in her bed had quite literally never felt better. She contemplated putting her headphones on, but it seemed quiet enough as everyone had gone back to their rooms and were keeping themselves busy so she trusted it to stay that way for a while. Her mind started to wonder, until she was just beginning to doze off and could faintly hear the front door open and close along with someones muffled speaking. There was some more banging around downstairs until it relented and Momo began to fall back into her slumber. That is, until…

The door to her bedroom flung open.

“Unnie.” She didn’t want to move at all, so she pretended she didn’t hear Jihyo from the doorway.

“Momo unnie. Get up.” Her brain started to panic a little bit due to her acting proving to be unsuccessful. But she knew something was up because Jihyo sounded aggravated. Why was she mad?

“UNNIE! GET UP!” her voice was loud, and Momo’s body was shaking— both from her own anxiety and from the sudden closeness of Jihyo who had moved the blanket and was poking her shoulder hard enough to get her to move.

“W-what is it, Ji?” she smacked her hand away and sat up on the side of the bed to face her.

“Are you the one who got milk?”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“Well, you left it out on the counter. You also left your dirty cup on the couch. Don’t you know how to clean up after yourself?! Please go put them away, I have to cook Dahyun dinner.” With that, Jihyo turned on her heel and went downstairs.

Her head felt bad. Momos head felt really bad. She didn’t understand why the milk was on the counter or remember how the cup got on the couch. Was she processing things right? She could almost hear the blood rushing to her head, and the tears flooding her eyes begging to overflow. Momo was incredibly overwhelmed but she shouldn’t cry— it’s simple. Jihyo just wants her to clean something, thats all.

Momo stood up and left for the kitchen. Her steps were a little bit wobbly and she really did feel very bad. She almost couldn’t tell where she was.

Reaching where Jihyo had gone, she walked to the counter and put the milk that was there in the fridge. It felt heavier in her hand than normal. She also got the cup from the couch and brought it to the sink.

While the water from the faucet filled the cup, she watched until it spilled over and began running over her hand. She felt really weird, she could see the water but for some reason didn’t really register feeling it. It felt like she had stood there forever, until a hand reached over and turned the faucet off.

“Unnie! You can’t let the water run like that! God, that reminds me that the water bill is due today, did you pay it? that’s one of your bills you know.”

Momo just continued to stare at her hand holding the cup in the sink. It was cold, and she didn’t really understand what Jihyo was saying to her. She couldn’t process anything at all. All she could think about was how badly she wished it was quiet, how tired she was of hearing her name, and how small she felt.

It happened so fast she didn’t even know what was happening. A cabinet door closed a little too harshly and she dropped to her knees on the floor sobbing, shoving her fingers as far into her ears as she could— even tho it hurt.

“Unnie? Unnie— what happened?!” Jihyo mirrored her on the floor in front of Momo trying to figure out why she was crying. Momo couldn’t say a word but the closer Jihyo got to her the more she thrashed around trying to get away.

Hearing the commotion, Nayeon had left her room. “Hey guys why are you making so much noi—“ She paused as she observed the scene in the kitchen.

Jihyo turned to her, asking for help.

“Oh, unnie— I don’t know what happened! I was talking to her and trying to get stuff out of the cabinet for dinner and then all of a sudden she started freaking out! I didn’t mean to but she won’t even let me touch her.”

Looking back over at Momo, Nayeon knew immediately what was wrong, and told Jihyo that they’ll order food later and to go to her room for a little while. Carefully, she sat down next to Momo on the floor.

“Hi my sweet girl,” Nayeon tried really hard to leave her voice barely above a whisper so that she didn’t startle her. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too good right now.” Momo shook her head side to side frantically.

“That’s okay, can you tell unnie how old you are? it’s okay if you’re not sure.” Again, Momo shook her head.

“Alright darling, is it okay if i touch you?” At that, the younger girl threw herself into Nayeons arms still sobbing. She held onto her and rubbed her hand in circles gently around her back, putting a little bit of pressure to help her feel better. Nayeon looked down and saw that Momo still had her fingers in her ears, and that they were beginning to turn pretty red.

Leaning down and kissing the top of her head, she took it as a hint to what was actually wrong.

“Is it too loud baby?” This time Momo nodded her head the other direction. Nayeon picked her up and decided to bring her back to her room to avoid anyone coming out and making even more noise.

Sitting Momo on her bed, she crouched down in front of her and gently gripped her elbows. “Can you take your fingers out of your ears for me darling? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Momo whined and seemed to push them in even further. Nayeon panicked a little until she remembered about the headphones Momo left in her room for times like this. She didn’t know where she had left them so she began searching through the drawers in her desk and closet until she found them inside the backpack hanging off the back of her chair. Relieved, she brought them back over to Momo and tapped her just enough to get her to open her eyes.

“If you take your fingers out, we can put these on and you can feel a lot better my love.” Momo looked down and hesitated. It was her favorite pair of headphones that she had decorated with Nayeon a few months ago, and they had made sure they got the quietest ones possible. Which is exactly what she wanted right now.

Momo slowly removed her fingers from her ears, grimacing at the soreness and how loud it was again until Nayeon placed the headphones over her ears as soon as she could. Both girls sighed with relief as Momo felt better and Nayeon was glad that Momo felt better.

“Now, do you want to take a nap with me my sweet girl? I’ll even let you hold my bunny” She pulled her sleeves over her hands and wiped the tears that were still stuck on Momo’s cheeks and smiled at the nod she gave.

She tucked Momo into her bed— with her bunny— and quickly sent a text out to their group chat not to knock on any doors or come into their room until later.

Getting under the covers next to her, Momo slid over with the stuffed bunny in her arms and rested her head against Nayeons chest. “If you wake up and need anything just let me know, okay? i’ll be right here.”

Momo definitely still did not feel very good, but at least it finally felt quiet.

[strwbnnie]

i am so upset. we’ve been moots for like a month now and i haven’t come to throw some filth in your ask box yet 😩 buT it’s not too late!

alsO hI miya it’s nice to officially greet you 👉🏾👈🏾 i’m glad you enjoyed reading warm bodies! how are ya?

clears throat this is so long and i’m sorry but i like to ramble when i have ideas

So, I was lowkey just scrolling through your blog (i need to read more of your tasty ass work fr fr) and I noticed you reblogged a short fic about villian Kiribaku… A concept that has been untouched by my brain and was probably for good reason because now all I can think about is Red Riot the hardening villain who uses unbreakable to strike fear into civilians, heroes, and villains who dare to threaten his authority. Red Riot the villain is fucking huge and bulky and still has a smile of sunshine but a heart darkened by a selfish society. He honestly gives me Pain vibes, and idk if you’ve ever watched The Boys but I think he’d fit in perfectly with them, he definitely wants to kill heroes who don’t deserve to be called heroes.

Red Riot is very meticulous about the crimes he commits but there is one thing for sure— he loves a good fight. Doesn’t matter where the fight is or when it is, if there’s a fight brewin’ he’ll be there to find it. Also, random fact, he likes rocks soooo… he robs a lot of jewelry stores when he wants to add to his collection or he goes “shopping” at museums.

For example, big boy Riot has left the headquarters in search of a way to get his knuckles bloody, cruising around, looking for a hero to pick a fight with. Listen, even he’s got standards. He’s murdered a couple of people but never innocent ones, only heroes that don’t deserve their titles. And for that, he’s wanted by the Japanese government… Why’s he still walkin’ around like he’s some regular civilian though? I don’t even know. But… oh! Look at that, a hero.

The name of this hero doesn’t matter, he’ll scrapbook it later. A grin spreads across the villains face, a set of razor sharp teeth reveal themselves as he begins to approach the unsuspecting hero, following them to a more secluded part of the city to minimize witnesses as well as collateral damage.

This particular hero has quite a destructive quirk, so it’s truly no surprise that as soon as Red Riot attacks him, the hero begins to lay in blows that aren’t held back in the least. Indiscriminate waves of the disastrous quirk, that Red Riot easily dodges or blocks, cause nearly irreversible damage to nearby buildings, which no-doubt is putting civilians in even more danger than Red Riot’s presence alone. This is exactly /why/ he does the things that he does. With just one stupid fucking test, anyone could become a hero, even psychopaths like this.

As the hero is attempting to knock Red Riot down, the redhead villian doesn’t halter in anyway, getting closer and closer to the hero that looks like their about to shit their pants right in the alley. He’s nearly a foot away from the hero when he hears a blood-curdling scream that appears to be coming from above. He takes a moment to glance up and sees a woman plummeting to her death from the destroyed building that was just beside the alley. Then he looked back at the hero to see if he would do anything.

No. He was far too busy trying to keep his own ass safe. And for some reason, that pissed him off beyond comparison. He’d been holding back since the fight began, giving the hero a chance to defend himself, but it appeared time was running out. Hardening his fist, he aimed a blow directly to the hero’s face, satisfied with the sickening sound of flesh and bone breaking from the heavy punch, and watched the hero fly back into a pile of garbage bags, deserved.

With the screaming come closer and closer to where he was, Red Riot used the debris of the crumbling building to propel himself upwards and easily captured the woman who’d been falling, only then taking note of the bundle of life that she had protectively curled over. As they approached the ground, he hardened his legs and landed with ease, causing quite an indent in the earth.

While she’d been falling, hero eyes remained shut the entire time, but when she stopped falling, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings and the big strong arms that were wrapped around her rather protectively, she slowly opened one eye to take a peek at her savior.

In all his glory stood the infamous new Hero Killer, staring down at her with an arched brow on his handsome yet rugged face. The childhood scar on his eyelid had somewhat faded but fresh scars had been added to his face, a few nicks on his chin, cheek, and forehead, but they didn’t take away from his handsome appearance. He’d been wearing a red sleeveless hoodie, that showed off his muscular arms and a sleeve of ink that started from his right wrist, up the entirety of his arm, and disappeared under the hoodie no-doubt covering his right pec with a decorative tattoo, along with some plain black cargo shorts. His hair was spiked in the front and the rest flowed down his back in a mullet of sorts. She hadn’t realized she bad been silently staring at him in awe until he cleared his throat, asking if she was alright. Weirdly enough, she felt comfortable enough to answer him honestly, along with thanking him for saving her life. Unexpectedly, a cocky grin spread across his face and an idea came to mind.

“I’ve got other ways you can thank me, lil’ diamond.”

Next thing she knows, Red Riot aka Hero Killer 2.0 is mumbling some name that starts with a ‘K’ and a portal of purple smoke suddenly forms beside them out of thin air. Poor girl is basically kidnapped right then and there, but who woulda thunk Red Riot wanted a reward for taking down another hero and that reward just happened to be the lil’ milf who’d just dropped from the sky (or destroyed apartment building more specifically).

Don’t worry though, he may be a villain but he’s sweet and kind when he wants to be. And that includes taking care of you and your kid. Just like any normal abductee you question this motives and why’s he suddenly taken you from your home. He easily corrects you, saying that your home no longer existed and it was the manly thing to do to offer his surface to provide for you until you were able to get back on your feet.

(insert that one Soulja Boy audio where he says ‘HUH?!’ hella loud)

Why in the flying fuck would this man offer to take care of you? He had to have some kind of objective. But… to your surprise, he didn’t. In fact, you were free to leave whenever you wanted, and he made that clear.

Much to your surprise, Red Riot didn’t live in the LoV headquarters, he lived by himself in his own lil’ cabin in the woods that could easily fit a family or two. It was strange. You were thankful that he saved you and your baby’s life, but he was still a villain. A really, really handsome one at that. After his oh-so-caring suggestion, he mentioned if you wanted him to he would drive you back to the city and drop you off wherever you wanted to go. You dunno how it happened exactly but he’d been holding your baby while he was speaking to you, rocking the sleeping infant in his arms like he was their biological father. How was this man so fucking charismatic and sweet to you? He HAD to have some kind of ulterior motive.

Spoiler alert: yes, yes he did, but not the one you would expect from him.

Y’see… he’s always wanted a family. And here you were, dropped right into arms for the taking, and you didn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon, so he was going to use this opportunity.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into a month. And just as he promised, he took you out the house whenever you wanted and asked you each and every time if you wanted to be left in the city after your daily adventures (shopping and shit y’know, yes this man goes grocery shopping). But you always went back to his cabin with him, each and every time. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? No… couldn’t be, he openly told you to leave if you wanted to, then did that mean you were falling for the rugged mass-murdering villian? Looks that way.

As expected, the developing relationship between the three of you was not normal in the least, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d even introduced you to some of his buddies from LoV, only the ones he trusted tbh, and after that— you now had some willing and ready babysitters on call whenever you two needed.

Who wouldn’t abuse this opportunity? After some time convincing you, Red Riot, who had disclosed to you his real name was Eijirou Kirishima, managed to get you to go on a real date with him with just the two of you. And soooooo, ya did.

Who knew a villain could be so romantic? Certainly not you. He’d wined and dined you like his life depended on it and you were now putty in his hands. Perfect. The real games could begin.

He’s called a driver to take you both home and before you know it, Eijirou’s carrying you over the threshold like the two of you had just said ‘I Do.’

cracks knuckles

Now, this is where the real fun begins.

Red Riot, the hero-killing, tall, muscular, BDE, long-haired, thick-thighed, scarred, tattooed, smiling, thieving, hardening villain… has a breeding kink. And not just that, he’s got a big fucking dick that’s usually impressively hidden behind his usual wardrobe of loose fitting pants. But, you’ve seen him adjust himself more than a few times when he thinks you’re not paying attention, but you’re sure he just does it subconsciously without even realizing.

So there’s no real surprise when he’s dropped you onto your shared bed after a date and you can see the imprint of it through the black slacks he chose to wear. You coulda swore you saw the fuckin’ thing throbbin’ through the fabric but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

He’s now staring you down, noticing how your eyes have stayed glued to his crotch, with a timid look with some worry hidden behind your eyes. He grins and decides to have a little show for you. You’re struck back into reality when he suddenly grabs it, giving it a lil’ squeeze and a tug, causing your thighs to rub together in anticipation.

“No need to be nervous. It ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. Promise.”

He purred, stroking his cock a few for times for you through his pants before moving his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“Think you could strip for me, mamas? I like that dress on ya… Think I’d rip it to shreds if I tried to take it off.”

Sweet fuck, when’d you become so obedient???

Before you know it, you’re both naked and on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the comforter or the sheets. Seems you two were impatient.

Eijirou was splayed out on his back, cock on fully display as it rested against his stomach that wasn’t exactly chiseled with abs, it was a lil’ squishy but the muscles in his arms and chest were hard to ignore. And would ya look at that, you were right, he did have a nagasode and hikae style tattoo with a dragon, flowers, and other symbols. His monstrous cock was almost teasing you with its ridiculous width and length, how was that going to fit in you? With its thick tanned shaft, and its fat brink pink circumcised tip that was dribbling precum despite being only half erect. The happy trail that led to a trimmed bush of onyx hair made you think about the hyped mane of hair on his head.

He’d decided to leave the gel out of his hair this evening so the bright crimson locks flowed in waves under his head… what kinda conditioner did this man use? Them locks shiny as a muhh’fucka- No, no, no, don’t get distracted.

Where were you?

He’d had you sitting on his chest, beckoning you to straddle his face with your thighs, and when you hesitated he took matters into his own hands and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you right onto his face.

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier that he’d got a forked tongue…? Y’know, the kinda tongue a snake has… He kinda got into a bit of body modification after dropping out of U.A.

And the way he uses his forked tongue on you is heavenly. So heavenly, that you nearly hunch over and run away from his skilled tongue, whining and whimpering his name, pathetically asking him to calm down and give you some time to adjust. The iron grip on your hips forces you stay right where he wants you, thick digits easily sinking themselves into your plush hips like memory foam. He’s absolutely ravishing you with the rapid fire motions of his tongue, writing out every Hiragana symbol in the charts, observing how you react to every trace of ever symbol. And when he draws out that one symbol, his tongue acting as a brush drenched in ink and your pussy acting as the paper, he notices the way you shudder and let out a guttural moan, clenching at his hair hard enough to make his scalp burn just a fraction— he smirks, abusing this new power.

ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.

Ironically, the symbol that makes you shudder and silently scream sounds a bit like laughter, and laughter you shall receive. It is the best medicine after all.

Abusing this particular symbol, it is no surprise that the hardening villian soon rips an orgasm right out of your body, the searing heat that builds up inside you releasing into his mouth as you squeeze his head between your thick thighs.

Easily, Eijirou laps up your sweet nectar while groaning about how sweet and delectable you are, and gives you a moment to collect yourself, hearing the sweet pants and huffs that escape you as he rubs comforting circles onto your hips. That won’t last long, however.

“Think ya can cum on my tongue a few more times, lovely? Gotta make sure you’re slippery enough to bounce on my cock a lil’ later after all, hm? Be a good girl f’me, ya know ya can.”

my bad, my bad… went a lil’ crazy on this one 🧍 do with this as you please, aLsO i had an urge to draW hIm but i haven’t colored the lineart yet 😩 ill show ya when im doNe

You’ve been reduced to nothing but a whining, whimpering mess on the redhead’s tongue. He’s flipped and twisted your aching body so many times to get you in the perfect position, but nothing beats that good ole spread eagle.

Your hero turned villainous lover has both of those big hands holding you wide open for him, fingertips sunk into your plush flesh.

One knee is flush against the bed, the other is up against your chest, leaving nothing hidden from his fiery gaze. Your pretty pussy is his to abuse, at the mercy of that dexterous tongue and those razor sharp teeth.

Your moans and sounds are so cute to him, so pretty he wants nothing more than to keep fucking you on that long tongue.

You peer down at the beast between your thighs and the sight has you immediately tossing your head back, a breathy sigh passing through your lips.

Eijirou looks so precious—crimson eyes hooded and low, the thin sheen of your slick spread around his mouth while he licked and sucked you to another release.

‘Cu-cumming.’ Is how you’ll warn him before your pussy is creaming around that tongue again. You’re so sensitive, clit so swollen and red even the waft of his breath hurts.

But Eiji loves seeing you squirm, so much that he’s lathering your poor clit in spit, sucking the nub into his mouth just to hear you squeal as you claw at the sheets.

“Ei, p-please baby.” You’re begging, pleading for just an ounce of mercy from your lover’s tongue.

He raises his head to look up at you, or what’s left of you, granting a brief intermission as he flips you onto your belly.

He’s palming the fat of your ass, spreading you until he’s face to face with your delicious cunt and puckered asshole, his moistened lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

He loves this. He loves you and your perfect fucking pussy so much that tonight he plans on making you a mommy again. As soon as you cum for him one more time he plans to split you open and breed you.

“Just one more pretty girl, I promise.”

It’s nice to meet youuu, I love your work 🥺❤️Villian Kiri makes my pussy brain melt 🥹 I hate that it’s so short but I’m writing like 4 other one shots and my brain is a can of baked beans right now 😭

Hey bae, care to join us? @darkmajesty-xo

[spenglersweetheart]

Soooo…I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking up your time or nothing…but…hear me out..

Reader works with ghostbusters and one day while the other three are on call it’s just reader and Venkman. They are working on the mood slime doing different tests and such. Venkman comes in to do his usual annoying and flirting technique when the reader shows him a ring on their finger and grin

“Sorry toots I’m taken by Dr Egon Spengler”

Then they just continue with work while venkmans just confused like “hEs EnGaGeD”

no bc i actually don't mind you're actually helping with writing muse because lately it was dead so you're doing my brain a justice !! :)

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

( note, i could not decide who to put for the gif so enjoy all three of them <3 )

Sorry, Venkman, I'm Taken

technically an x reader but love interest isn't in the story? lol idk what to make of this.

WARNINGS : none! just peter being annoying lol

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO WORK WITH THE MOOD SLIME. While the other three were on a call, you were stuck with Peter Venkman. Sometimes it was bearable. Other times? Well, let's just say he was a bit of a flirt. An annoying flirt. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you couldn't. It just depended on how you felt and how patient you were at the time.

This day. You were not so patient.

You were conducting different tests for the slime. He was supposed to be helping. But all he did was pretty much hover over you with his poor flirtatious tactics. You weren't trying to give in to that behavior, as you deemed it immature.

"You're pretty quiet today, toots. You're not your usual self," you hear him say.

Toots. It never fails to make your nose scrunch up in disgust. That nickname made you feel like absolute garbage. But you dealt with it, mainly because you had to work with him.

"That's because I'm concentrating. It's kind of hard when you're blabbering in my ear," you tell him as you look at the cassette tape that's on the pool table.

You're looking at the Farewell to Kings cassette tape that's sitting next to the Jackie Wilson one that Egon has used prior for the experiment. It makes you wonder how it would react to Prog rock instead of the rhythm and blues.

"I wonder what it'll do for this tape," you mutter to yourself, before grabbing it.

You walk over to the radio, Peter following you like the lost puppy that he acted like. You didn't like being so close. It was a thing for you. The only one who could get that close to you was Egon. And right now, you were missing that company.

"Guess we're feisty today, huh?" Peter asks.

"Only because you won't leave me alone," you mumble, "You're supposed to be helping me. You could be doing something useful."

"I am doing something useful."

You close the cassette radio. Turning the tune to Cinderella Man. You turn back around to face him. Your eyes narrow before you walk away. He still follows you around.

"And what exactly are you doing?" You question, crossing your arms, "Because the only thing you have been doing is following me around like a lost puppy."

"I'm observing the mood slime, thank you very much," Peter answered, "I'm observing its reaction to you!"

You rule your eyes. "Oh yeah? And how is it reacting?"

"Very, very positive, toots," he tells you.

He tries to get closer, but you put your hand up so that he doesn't. You happen to raise the hand that had a ring on your finger. You had enough of his flirty antics and advances, and it was about time he knew that you were taken by one of your own colleagues.

"Sorry, toots," you say, almost mockingly, "I'm taken, Venkman. By Dr. Egon Spengler."

His eyes widen in shock while a smirk of amusement crawls onto your lips. His reaction was priceless to you. You just wondered what he had to say about it.

"Wait," Peter says, "He's engaged? Before me? How did Spengs get engaged before me?"

You finally put your hand down. "I dunno. Maybe because he doesn't creepily flirt. He's just himself," you say. You give a smile before walking away. Leaving Peter to think about his life decisions.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, before walking in the opposite direction.

[magnummagnussen]

dating lance stroll would include...

a/n: i got a request for lance fluff a while ago and it's been on my mind lately, please enjoy my brain rot <3

pairing: lance stroll x fem! reader

warnings: fluff!

first of all, he definitely has the best sweater collection so stealing some of those is priority number one it's freezing in canada pls send some

because they smell like him and not just his cologne

constantly making dumb little facial expressions and voices just to make you laugh (like the clip in his ig video where he says "they're moving, it's a start")

he just wants to be near you

like you'll be reading or doing something on your computer and he will sit/lay next to you doing something else

maybe some little glances and smiles? a head on a shoulder perhaps?

the type to always make sure you have everything you need but also treat you in everyday ways (flowers, ordering food/going out, little trips away to relax)

we know that man is rich but he doesn't want to show it off

he is absolutely the sleepiest boy and if you try to get up before him he'll just hold you tighter

when you do get time off, escaping to a cottage or something (alone or with some friends) and fully disconnecting from the world

hikes, biking (maybe not anymore), campfires

for some reason, i have the thought about just dancing in the living room while listening to music

dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

if you're going to events, he is not only with you all night but he is touching you all night to keep himself (and you) grounded

that man is anxious so he needs a little extra support at social events <3

he's not super into pda but hand-holding, little pecks, and an occasional longing gaze is perfect

because in private? that man is handsy

wrapping his hands around your waist while you're getting ready, touching your legs when you're both on the couch, having casual makeout sessions on the kitchen island, etc.

little ice skating dates!!

i cannot skate for shit but i'm living for this idea

the absolutely garbage hot chocolate at free skates, slowly gliding across the ice while everyone else just laps you, picking you up if when you fall

in conclusion: i need a lance stroll

[cerastes]

How do you rate the gacha booty shooter?

NIKKE sure is a game! It's the funnest mixed bag I've played lately. As a side game, it's been pretty good, because it's good at what it does good, and not terrible at its weak points, leaving you with a pretty "Ok :)" feeling overall.

So what's up with Nikke? Yeah, let's have a talk about that so I can explain a bit by what I mean with "fun mixed bag".

Nikke's setting is the same old tired, you've seen it a million times: Once day, humanity was almost decimated by a mysterious enemy that came out of nowhere... We call it... The Enemy! They were simply too strong, so humanity had to deploy its strongest weapons: Anime Girls. And you are the lucky Authority Figure that commands the Anime Girls to defeat The Enemy! But... The Enemy and Anime Girls have more in common than it seems...!?

Replace "The Enemy" with "Rapture", "Anime Girl" with "Nikke", Authority Figure with... Technically "Commander" but more on this in a bit, and you've got Nikke. In other words, the game's setting and premise are just a few word swaps away from being Punishing Gray Raven, Snowbreak, and a bunch of other properties. But here's the thing: Whereas Punishing Gray Raven tells you its story with all the charm and pizzazz of a Wikipedia article, and Snowbreak... Uh, stands there staring at a wall Blair Witch style because nothing ever fucking happens in Snowbreak, Nikke actually has good moment to moment flow. Allow me to elaborate.

Read More break here because I wrote a lot more than I intended:

Nikke has probably the dumbest premise to open with: The Nikkes are basically superpowered cyborg girls (war machines with human brains) that look like supermodels on purpose because they were created, in the game's own words, "with the ideal form in mind". That's all a wordy way of saying they are super hot girls with very powerful guns and superhuman physical capabilities. The dumb part is that Nikkes are treated like absolute shit in-universe by humans. You're telling me humanity is making cyborgs -- not even full on robots or AI, these are straight up people getting turned into weapons -- that are hot as fuck and have tits bigger than my head and asses that could crush cars under their sheer heft and then decided to hate them and treat them like shit, and also these cyborgs are the ones actually keeping humanity alive? Well yeah we need a reason for the Main Character (you!) to be Special and bond with them, so your thing is that You Don't Treat Nikkes Like Shit. In fact, you care for them.

Now, this is all absolutely fucking stupid, but then, the game sort of... Realizes how stupid it is? And some may say "this was always the plan" but to me personally it feels like they kinda realized how god damn stupid this all was as a premise, and they started veering the car mid-trip because for a while this all feels REALLY sincere, not in a foreshadowing way, but then you have some developments such as "no yeah, Commanders are a dime a dozen, are brainwashed into seeing Nikkes as walking garbage and that they'll be heroes, risk their lives for pennies and are extremely expendable", and there's also what I consider a really good and consistent thing the game has done: Nikkes were always a desperate last minute rushed product as a concept, so the safety measures in place so that they don't rebel against humans were never perfect.

This is what I mean by the moment to moment being good: The plot is absolutely whatever, the setting is something you've seen a million times, but the actual scene by scene, beat by beat, is fun. On the micro level, the game knows how to be entertaining and interesting, and when they expand these micro nuggets of gold to a macro level of writing, it's when they end up with their best bits of narrative and world building. I want to use two examples about the whole safety measures thing: Crow and Rose.

Crow is a Nikke that hates humans and is part of a squad of known dangerous elements that Missilis, the most irresponsible of the Big Three companies, is responsible for. This squad is Exotic, and Exotic works with you (your squad is named Counters) on this one mid-game chapter. The thing is, they never really intended to work with you, and Crow wanted you dead because Crow wants to spark a Human Vs Nikke conflict in the Ark (humanity's last big home), because you might quell the hostility between both sides. But, Nikkes can't intentionally kill humans (accidents happen and a Nikke may be ordered to subdue a human, but they are hardwired to not be able to shoot at them or kill them). So, how does Crow go about it when she betrays you? She has her squadmate Jackal plant a steel plate on the ground, and then shoots the plate in a way that the bullet ricochets and hits you. NIMPH, what's used to, among many other things, make sure Nikkes can't turn on humans, was so, so easily circumvented, and this is consistent with what we've been told about the Ark and Nikke in universe development in general: It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's not good. Rose, the other example, is a Nikke from a flashback story around a hundred of years before the start of the game. Rose was a prototype Nikke that was geared for melee combat instead of ranged combat, as all Nikkes are, and she was one of ten such units. Basically, Rose realized that their human Commander was intentionally trying to get them killed until one remained, which would be deemed the success of the line in Darwinian fashion. Rose got so immensely, justifiably angry at this that she plotted to kill the Commander. How can she do this, though, with the NIMPH that prevents her from doing so? Well, Rose was an actual swordmaster, and what she did was wear a blindfold, convince herself that what she was slicing was not a human, but a Rapture, and then she easily killed the shit out of him, unimpeded by her system. The NIMPH, end of the day, is sloppily made, highly dependent on the mental state of the Nikke, and easily circumvented. This is a very important plot point throughout the story, and the way they show this in multiple ways is really good.

Another thing I like is how the game goes about the player's title. It's technically "Commander" but the truth is, most every single Nikke calls you a different way relative to your relationship with them or their impression of you. Rapi and Anis some of the few that call you Commander, because they are in fact your subordinates, but Rapi says "Shikikan" while Anis says "Shikikan-sama" in a sarcastic way initially and after a while in an affectionately playful way, Neon calls you "Master" (Shishou) because she likes the way you use firepower, Liter calls you "Greenhorn" because you are, well, that in her eyes, Moran calls you "Partner" (Ototou, "little brother" in Japanese) because she's the head of a crime syndicate and she considers you as a cool person under her protection, the sports inclined ones call you "Coach", the school themed ones "Teacher", Viper, the flirty one, "Honey" or "Darling" depending on the scene, and so on, the old timey Scarlet calls you "My Lord", the religious Rapunzel uses "Believer", and the coarse, rough around the edges Snow White just uses "You" (Omae). It's a great touch that I like when it's done.

So, basically, you have a charming combination of a setting that's been overdone infinite times with plot beats that vary between legitimately good (the NIMPH and its logistics) and legitimately bad (Whatever the fuck Chapter 18 was, to name one case), and moment to moment that's really charming and entertaining.

The gameplay is honestly extremely unbalanced, and the sheer disparity in strength between units of the same rarity makes you wonder if they have anyone in the team that actually cares about balance, but honestly, putting the issues of balance aside? It's fun to point at stuff and shoot a million bullets and rockets, and they even get pretty creative with the fights sometimes in terms of enemy types and how they use them against you, so gameplay balance is awful, gameplay itself is suprisingly good for how simple it is.

I know people are going to be like "Dreamer, You Didn't Even Rate The Asses" so okay here:

First of all, the ergonomically perfect ass of the VIXEN that lured me into the game in a moment of weakness, Scarlet:

And next up, the Clothed But Massive Ass of Snow White

In fact, I appreciate the variety, because if it was just bare cheeks and panty shots, it'd be kinda whatever to me, but bodysuit ass and clothed but noticeably huge ass? Fresh, to be honest.

Also notable is that progress in entirely gated by passive production of resources and daily stuff because there's no stamina system. Bold!

But yeah feel free to ask more specific questions, but this is pretty much how I've felt about it.

[forthereaderinserts]

here it is

the writing

sorry if this is garbage lol I have smiling friends brain rot

tw for bad mental health

~|~|~

Your first meeting with the 'Smiling Friends' didn't go exactly as planned. When you had contacted them, you had been in one of the worst mental health spots of your life. This silly-sounding company was your last hope.

When they finally showed up at your doorstep, they were greeted by the stench of depression and old takeout, as well as your ragged form dressed in dirty clothes and sporting ratty hair.

Holding back a cringe at the smell that wafted out the wide open door, Pim put on a brilliant smile and introduced himself and his companion, Charlie. He was slower to suppress his reaction, causing you to blush in embarrassment.

"Hello! My name is Pim and this is my good friend Charlie. We heard you weren't feeling to good, so we're here to put a smile on that lovely face of yours!"

There was a pause in the conversation as he waited for your response, but the sheer force of his unbridled positivity had sent you into a spiral. Charlie, noticing your subtle yet labored breathing and the slight shake you had taken on, was quick to set a new pace.

"Uhm- Hey, why don't we come inside. Talking in the doorway is a little weird, huh?"

That snapped you out of your mental funk, ushering them in with small 'sorry's'. You nudge aside some trash in a feeble attempt to clear a path to your couch. The whole time, the two critters were accessing the situation and coming up with a plan to help you get into a better place.

Once everyone was able to sit down, Pim picked up where he left off, making sure to keep his enthusiasm low.

"So, it looks like you've been a bit depressed lately. I think I know exactly how to help!"

Charlie carried the flow, "We're gonna start by picking up some of the junk. A lot of studies say that your environment plays a big part in your mental health."

Nervousness clawed at your soul, trying to get a solid grip to sink it's teeth down and send you into a full panic. The thought of cleaning was so anxiety inducing and exhausting. It's not like you hadn't tried, but it usually ended with you crying and nothing getting done. You didn't notice but tears had started pricking at your eyes, trailing down your cheeks like hot lava.

When it was clear that you weren't responding anymore, Pim turned to Charlie and tried to figure out how they could turn this disaster of a job around. They decided that Pim would start by gathering up trash and spoiled food into the bin while Charlie sat with you and got you to calm down.

Nodding firmly at each other, they got to work. Charlie moved his chair closer to you and slowly grabbed your hands, stopping you from picking at your cuticles. Your head shot up and you locked eyes with the yellow man. Looking back down at your touching hands, your eyes flickered between that and his face. This might have been the first time you've felt physical contact, let alone comfort, in months.

As soon as he could tell you weren't on the verge, Charlie started to talk softly to you. About nothing important, just some posts he'd seen on the internet, what he'd eaten today, and his opinions on whatever he could think of. His main goal was to distract you while Pim cleaned enough so that it wasn't too overwhelming. He has even piped up a couple times to joke with his friend.

By the end of the day, the living room and adjacent hallway were livable and you were in a much better mood. Technically, you had smiled far earlier into the session, but Charlie and Pim were having such a good time just chatting and tidying that they kept working. This was one of their easiest jobs so far. No guns, no heartbreak, no death. Just talking and cleaning.

When it came time for the two of them to leave, you were disappointed. This was the happiest you'd been in such a long time. They knew that too, so before they walked out the door, they turned to you and offered their numbers. When you looked confused, they explained that they felt you weren't quite ready for normal life again, no offense. They wanted to get you set up with a therapist they had contacts with and maybe even start some medication.

At their words, you teared up again, but this time there was a giant smile stretching your mouth. Surprising the critters, you pulled them into a tight hug and whispered a gentle 'thank you'. This was the best day of your life, you think.

~|~|~

sorry the ending is so rushed I just wanted to get something out lol

[dimonds456]

Howdy!

I'm Dimonds456, and welcome to my garbage pile. I'm a bat who stays up way too late and cannot decide whether or not to be productive. I draw, write, animate, play/write music, and I'm also insane so watch out for that.

I'm neurodivergent, disabled, queer, white, a singlet, fictionkin, and a proud cat papa. I am a cartoon character who is way too bouncy for their own good lol.

They / he / xe!

This is my main blog, but my ADHD ass also has a bunch more.

@dimonds456-art - my art blog! Almost all art gets rbed there!

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai - my HLVRAI sideblog! Because yeah why not. This is one of me current hyperfixations lol it's bad

@rubberhose-roy is my sideblog used to gush about 1920's-40's aesthetics, music, culture, ect., as well as an animation blog! All my animations specifically will be reblogged there, as well as any animation rambles or gushes I do.

I have more but those are the main three.

My fandom-specific blogs are:

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai (again)

@hlvrai-stuck-together - HLVRAI AU I run!

@halfnautica - Half Life / Subnautica AU!

@a-second-chance-su-au - Old SU AU that has been discontinued, but the blog is still there!

@batim-rewritten - a Bendy and the Ink Machine rewrite I'm working on

@cuphead-contract-au - A Cuphead AU where Mugman makes a deal (discontinued)

And, I have my own OC story, Follychromatic! I reblog all that stuff here, but its main blog is here!

@follychromatic

To see pictures of my cats, check the #Checkers and Chess tag! :D

Okay great. Now, DNI, trigger warnings, disabilities, special interests, and more below the cut. Make sure you read at least once, k? Thanks.

Welcome to my cave!

DNI

Do not FUCKING interact if you are:

- Someone who ships pedophilic, incestuous, or abusive ships while portraying them as positive and a good thing

- A bigot

- An LGBTphobe / transmed / ect

- Trump supporter

- Nazi / fascist / conservative

- Weird about furries or furry art

- Weird about fandom headcanons (specifically trans woman headcanons)

Trigger Warnings

I will tag as much as I can, and if you want me to tag something specific, let me know! But as a general blog cover, things that appear on this blog often are:

- Current events

- Talk of / discussion of sexuality (sometimes boardering on NSFW but not usually)

- Blood

- Guns

- Flashing

- Talk of proshippers (I try to be respectful but also I don't stand for them and I don't support them. I block and move on, and try to explain why proship is bad, but eh. I've only been listened to like once lol)

- Swearing / swear words

- All caps

- Bugs

- Suggestive content / NSFW (RARE DONT WORRY)

I will add more if anyone wants me to, or we can come up with a custom tag, like what I do for one of my friends! (#dimond don't look)

DISABILITIES

Hiiii I'm disabled! Both mentally and physically. I talk about being disabled a lot and try to generate positive talk about it. I also vent about it. I've had quite a few of these, and I also try to reblog as much about others I don't have as I can to increase awareness and understanding. So yeah! These are just the ones I have, but they are not the only ones that appear on my blog!

Hyperthyroidism

Graves Disease

Graves Eye Disease

Astigmatism

Athsma

Audio processing disorder

ADHD

Autism

Trauma / PTSD

Brain fog / disassociation / memory loss

Anxiety

Depression

Cane user

Weak / trembling limbs / trouble walking / trouble holding onto things sometimes

More to be added lol.

This is also a meds/treatment positive blog, a self-diagnosis positive blog, and my general attitude is just "if you think something is wrong you're probably right, you know yourself the best, even if you don't know what exactly is wrong." This attitude has saved my life and other people I know. You don't need a diagnosis or medication to be disabled.

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE.

If you are Jewish, black, brown, Muslim, indigenous, any religion, any race, any sexuality, any weird gender, anything at all- I love and support you. I'm still learning, and I try to learn as much as I can, but I'm not perfect. If I say something offensive or something adjacent, it was NOT on purpose. PLEASE, PLEASE tell me what I said wrong. I will make an effort to improve in the future.

I directly support:

- All races

- All religions*

- All sexualities (except pedos, y'all aren't LGBT, I'm sorry. You're actively hurting children. I've seen it again and again. Stop.)

- All genders and pronouns

- All "weird" identities outside of that as well (I'm fictionkin myself)

- Protests and protesters

- Neurodivergent people of all types (and yes, this means NPD, schizo, and all those other types that are often seen as bad or evil. I love you, I see you, and I support you.)

- DID & OSDD systems

I DO NOT support:

- Antisemitism

- Genocide

- Cults (*stuff like Jehova's Witnesses. I support the members, as they are victims, but I actively dislike the people on top who perpetuate the cycle. Not just JWs, but those are the big ones who come to mind. Hearts out to all the victims, I hope everyone gets to a better place soon)

- Racism in any way, shape, or form

- Religious discrimination of any way, shape, or form

- Israel specifically

- Trump, conservatives, Nazis, ect.

- Endo systems

If I have reblogged or said anything that aligns with the bottom list, that was a mistake. PLEASE let me know and I will fix it as fast as I can. You reading this right now, I love you. I hope my blog can help you feel welcomed and like you have somewhere to go if you need it. /gen

MY FANDOMS / INTERESTS

I HAVE ADHD AND AUTISM AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM /silly

The current special interests are HLVRAI and Half Life, current hyperfixations are Half Life and Poppy Playtime.

SPECIAL INTERESTS:

- Minecraft

- HTTYD

- FNaF

- Undertale / Deltarune

- BATIM / BATDR (unfortunately)

- Subnautica

- Biology

- Steven Universe

- Cuphead

- 2D Animation

- Writing

- HLVRAI

- Half Life

HYPERFIXATIONS (interests but not the special ones):

- Little Nightmares

- Hello, Neighbor (unfortunately)

- Petscop

- Portal

- Freemanverse (HELP ME)

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- The Owl House

- Gravity Falls

- Monster High (very first from what I can remember! I remember nothing though! But it's there!)

- Poppy Playtime

- Half Life

- Wild Kratts (I didn't even know there WAS a fandom until very recently, hi guys)

theres more but my brain is an egg :/

When it comes to ✨me,✨ I have a couple of original works as well! Specifically, Follychromatic! I won't get too into it here (bc shy) but it's 2D animation, rubberhose animation, magic, character-driven, action/adventure, mystery- yeah!

Outside of fandom, though, my special interests are biology, 2D animation, and writing. I am an animator and I suffer for fun.

YOU MADE IT! Have some Checkers and Chess pictures for your time! :)