#but the other half actually makes some sense

[cancerian]

The only “dense motherfucker” is one that believes it is women that must do so (make men feel comfortable) for men. You live in a society highly governed by your fellow males, if anyone is making you feel “bad” or “sad” it is because of the rules and laws created by your fellow males. Why should women who have been oppressed and subjugated for years, and are still subjugated by a different name care for your hurt that is caused by other men.

The biggest threat to women is men, the biggest threat to men is other men. At these your big ages, you would think that half a braincell would have formed by now. There is nothing that men will do now that they have not already done in the past. This is why women’s history and their experiences with the men they loved is very important for young girls to know. That way they don’t fall into the trap of “if you show them love, they will change and be kind.” Stop trying to put women in dangerous situations under the guise of loving all humans.

You have to be small minded to think women treat all men the same, your kind needs their ego stroked. Which is why women/girls are required to say “but not all men” when discussing things that disproportionately affect them. No one owes you love, but as humans we owe each other some sense of respect. So, you must respect women’s decisions to interact with you how they feel safest doing. The same way women have learned to respect that not all men are going to respect them. Only a dense pig would think that women do not understand the concept of viewing others as humans. In fact, time and time again it is women that are viewed as less than human by the same group you’re forcing them to care for.

As women (regardless of age), and especially as black women (moving away from the POC bs) you should prioritize your safety, you are not mother Theresa (even she was proven to be a fraud) and should focus on your own wellbeing. Don’t let an idiot calling you “dense” put you in situations many never come out of alive. As someone who has a male in her life that would do anything to see her happy and accomplished (and vice versa), I don’t go around with rose colored glasses trying to change anyone’s opinions because they chose to adopt an ideology that demonizes the living experiences of others. If being called “brother” is the only way you feel welcomed, then you need to rethink your entire life. Once you’re above 25, I implore that you try using at the very least 1/3 of your brain. I know using even half would probably cause a headache, so for now let’s aim to use 1/3.

Also you bring up the fact that men disproportionately hold more seats of power, so maybe direct your sadness to the people actively causing it. Which is the men in power not caring about the broke men (any man not in power). “It won’t pan out great for anyone who is not a male” because this is what males have done throughout history (I know you used man, but I used male for a specific reason and no I’m not a terf, but I don’t care about being called that). What a pathetic thing to say, especially if you’re not the man in power. This is an issue that egotistical idiots have (not calling you an idiot, but it is what it is), claiming men created this and that, when your ancestors are not the men that created it. Stop claiming power you personally don’t have. Stop claiming other men’s hard work as your own, especially when they put in the work to actually be productive members of society.

To the original twitter post, my dude you sound very stupid and seem like the kind that spends more time watching videos than actually reading on your countries history. The win was predictable, not because “men are becoming more right wing” but because this has been a common theme in America. These people are influenced by certain kind of media because deep down they already hold these beliefs, which is why they accept them. Men don’t genuinely want to see equality, hence why when they notice any group they view less than getting more rights they retaliate. The election result only tells us the reality of America as it pertains to race and sex (even more so when we look at the outcome of certain women’s voting history). So, the replies need to stop trying to make women take the blame for actions caused by other men. We should all aim to grow up.

To all the women/girls out there, avoid men that always want to be coddled and victimized. Most importantly find ways to protect yourselves, utilize the 2nd amendment given to you not by all men, but by the men that actually wrote it in. Protect yourselves by all means, and don’t be made to feel guilty for opting for safety over danger and stress.

Edit: have come to the conclusion after reading a substantial number of replies, Tumblr has a significant number of idiots who think they are smart. As a collective, we should all go touch grass.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #2: NOT QUITE THERE

(also on spotify!)

b-b-back once again

Round two of the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was track one, Dyad - today is track two, Not Quite There, featuring the incomparable telebasher!

This one's a bit of a dark horse relative to the rest of the album, but it may very well be my personal favorite song on the entire thing so dammit let's Yap

---

For the uninitiated, this song pulls heavily from a song off my previous album called Gummyworm, both in vibe and by very directly quoting its synth motif.

Both of these songs deal with two sides of the same emotional coin. I actually don't want to go into too much detail about it - I feel like the lyrics spell things out clearly enough - but I will say this:

When it's all you know, it's easy to believe that a love that isolates you, a love that doesn't respect you, a love that hurts is better than no love at all.

You deserve better. There are always people who genuinely want what's best for you, who want you to feel truly loved. It certainly isn't always easy - it's genuinely good if your interpersonal relationships have a little friction sometimes - but love should make your life brighter.

You deserve a love that's fair.

---

The original version of this song was actually intended to be on Bittersweet alongside Gummyworm. The original concept for that album had a whole heady concept involving duality, songs reflecting each other, the two halves basically being reprisals of each other... Ultimately, I'm glad I scrapped that idea, because it was waaaaaay too much for me to manage after a couple years of barely making music. Maybe I'll revisit it someday though?

The drums on this song are sampled from an Instagram post by Louis Cole, where he's doing this crazy one-handed hi-hat blast by holding a drumstick sideways. I'm a drummer and that shit genuinely scares me a little like i dont know how he does half the things he does its fucked BUT. I bring this up because he's one of my biggest inspirations as a musician! I'm really big on jazz in general, in case my love for spicy chords wasn't enough of an indication, but his specific brand of freaky hyperactive bullshit just does it for me.

Seriously, go watch his band KNOWER play their song Overtime. Absolutely insane performances across the board. also Clown Core

This whole song is really just my attempt at matching some of that hectic jazzy energy with my own style of music, so I figured it only made sense to make it another collab with another musician making delightfully frantic jazz bullshit - the legend herself, telebasher! I really am such a massive fan of her work, and I struggle to think of anyone who plays guitar quite like she does. We previously worked together on another Bittersweet track, Asemic Speech, and her guitar work is a major reason why that song is still one of my favorite I've ever released!! She's just built different like listen to this oh my god!!!!

Lastly, since this song was one of the first written for this entire project... it is admittedly a case of me shoehorning the album's leitmotif in after the fact. It's a little forced when it shows up in the backing vocals! But, the choir of vocal synths during the guitar solo served an additional purpose - my own voice doesn't show up on the album again for another four entire songs, and this would've otherwise been the only song on the entire album that didn't feature any vocal synths. Thus did I attempt to bridge the gap, as it were. Hopefully it makes the final product feel more natural!!

Either way, that's all for today's post.... i think.... which means that tomorrow.... we're gonna rot.... for clout

[theallianceofcelestials]

Sooo, yesterday's MASM episode, huh?

Why is Moonblock, Moonstone, whatever you wanna call him, the way he is? He doesn't make any sense! I'm not going to talk about anything they do in gaming videos, because that's just the VA's bullying eachother, like frinds do.

Pulling Sun along on their adventures as a way to try and bond, helping him (however reluctant that help may be) whenever Sunny goes to him for something, fixing him up during the night, while Sun is sleeping, knowing and making him his favourite cookies (once), wingmanned him a handful of times (the one where he told Sun, Roxy and Foxy to go get ice cream, which turned into the Roxy and Sun date episode, was very sweet of him) ect.

But then turning around, calling him mean names, yelling at him, hitting him, laughing and encouraging when others are jackasses to him (like when Bonnie hung him from the ceiling, and he was up there for days. crying.), joining in on when a child as a form of playing, wanted to stab him - and yeah, sure, he may be made of metal and plastic, so he would've been mostly fine if the kid stabbed him, but just like with the rabbit shooting him with fake bullets, that still hurts, - stabbing him just in general with a sword, blowing him up, letting others shove grass and weeds down his throat and jumping on him from higher and higher with more and more force (which actually could've seriously injured him. they're heavy machines, who were not made to whitstand other heavy machines jumping on them), hitting him and letting him be hit by others with a shopping cart, that half-assed apology in 'Sun Begins His VILLAIN ARC With Eclipse??!!' episode, which kind of sounded condescending if you ask me, basically going "Welp, I tried" when Sun still refused to go back "home", and all the other other sins the little space rock has, but we'd be here all night and I have to watch my bloodpressure.

He clearly wants to be friends with Sun, or at least wants to spend time with him, as I already mentioned. He wants to be close-ish with him. And he claims he likes him, just like how he likes everyone else in the Plex.

But that just feels like he said it, one so Sun wouldn't leave, and two so he doesn't have to directly tell him he likes him.

He sometimes acts almost exactly like the stereotypycal *giggling and kicking feet in the air* "My crush/bestest friend forever and meee <3", but in the most assholeish Karen way of "If A bOy PuLlS yOuR hAiR aNd Is BuLlYiNg YoU! ThAt MeAnS hE iS cRuShInG oN yOu!"

Like, "Oooh I'll write me and Sun's name together as the password🥰! But throw in someone else's name aswell, so if he ever finds out I can just say it's me and my two friends!!"

Make it make sense!

This post was meant to be about how the way everyone acted in yesterday's episode 'Sun Continues His VILLAIN ARC And Plans REVENGE...' felt heavily like it was backtracking. But I kind of got sidetracked with talking about the little space rock.

How "Yeah, I only was an ass to you and abused, so you would reach your literal breaking point, snap and go join Eclipse, so I could try and catch him. Proud of ya, or whatever I'm supposed to say, here's a plush... Still going to shoot you. Because why not." and "Ohh ya know, stabbing people is just Foxy's way of showing he loves you! Classic Foxy teehee!" just felt like some poor attempt at damage control. Same with suddenly everyone wanting to hang out with Sun, the one time he wanted to be left alone.

I'm not counting Freddy, his IQ is room temperature on good days, and I mean it in the nicest of ways. As nice as can be.

But why do suddenly everyone else want to hang out with Sun, like he's suddenly the most interesting of people. Though they're still hitting him with gokarts, insisting they need to look at something at the back of his head (a bump which may or may not have even been there), and when he rejected the idea of them looking at his head, clearly uncomfortable, they surrounded him, held him down, and forcibly checked his head and then fixed(?) it.

And then when he wanted to be alone again to cry, they still wouldn't leave him be. The rabbit actually wanted to watch.

In short, because I truly lost where I was going with this post and just started ranting, yesterday's episode felt like everyone attempting to backtrack a little, but falling back into the comfortable habits, the little space rock confuses me (what do you want?! do you want to be friends? do you want to hold hands with him in the most romantic of ways? do you just view him as a sentient punching bag?! do you just want to keep him around and fix him up, so he can do all the daycare stuff so you don't have to?!), I hate the rabbit so much, same with the gator and the fox, disappointed in the others, and Sunblock. Deserves. Justice.

[sciderman]

do you ever think about what itll be like when peter does die? like, of old age, or something. what thatll do to wade?

i think i've spoken about this a few times - but my thoughts on this essentially boil down to: wade is not immortal! at least not how i see it and - honestly, how the comics see it either.

wade has aged in the comics plenty of times - and always, unfortunately, grows that godawful beard (despite being hairless literally everywhere else - i suspect artists really just don't know how to make wade look old, what with all his scarred skin being difficult to show wrinkles so - shorthand: give him a beard, even if it doesn't make sense.)

it's up to debate within the comics if he ages at the normal rate of a human - or if he is, actually, really immortal - comics really like to give you a single answer, but what we do know is, generally, wade can't be killed. but that doesn't mean he can't age and die that way.

the way i kind of see it is that wade - if he hangs up the katanas for good and becomes a full-time homebody - his body will relax and his healing factor and metabolism with naturally slow - because he's not dealing with threats. so he'll put on weight, and he'll start aging - the way any normal man who isn't getting decapitated every other week might do

i even figure that - if that's the case - and he lives a normal, domestic life with peter - then - wade might even age faster than peter. peter - i figure - having his spider-metabolism and his - completely, without a doubt - adamance to not retire - we might see that it takes much longer for the ravages of time to eat away at peter - if he doesn't die in some stupid sort of a way, saving kittens from trees or something along the way.

so i figure that wade being an old sod while peter still looks half his age might be very likely

but - whilst i say that - there'd only need to be a need for wade to come back fighting. so - say, if eleanor needs him - he'd come back fighting for her - and if he gets in enough scrapes, he'll heal back, young as ever. so - i think wade's healing factor is entirely tied to this sense of urgency. if he needs to fight, he'll fight - and if he doesn't need to fight - then he'll relax, and age normally.

that being said - peter will die. eventually. i think he'll live a very. very long life if he doesn't do anything stupid. and then he'll die. and if wade's around for it, then wade will be very sad. but he won't be alone. and my kind of line of thinking for wade is that - he kind of embodies rebirth. he can start over, again and again. so he'll have a long, happy life with peter - and either they'll age away together - or - wade would carry on, with peter's memory in his heart or something gay like that

[procyonloser]

(serial killer au pt 2. Warning for serial killer things and dubcon)

Adam rolled over on the floor he'd found himself on, still drugged and tired from the last few days. He wasn't actually certain how long he'd been... wherever he was. He was just in pain, tired, and unable to think clearly anymore; in part, likely do to the IV coming out of his arm. The room itself was large, tiled floors with a few drains in the floor - to Adam, it reminded him of locker room showers, and he wondered if it was in some sort of broken down school. No one had come to help him that first night after he screamed and screamed, until his throat was bloody.

After the first night, Lucifer had decided on keeping him around, at least temporarily. But, Adam was a flight risk, according to him, and his size meant he could likely fight off Lucifer if he were to somehow get free.

So Lucifer had cut his Achilles tendons, after doping him up on something. He'd had a set of medical supplies, scrubs, and his ability to put in the IV made Adam wonder if he was in the medical field. Or, at least, he wondered it briefly, before screaming in agony as Lucifer sliced through flesh.

He tried to push up on an arm, still cuffed to a bolt coming out of the wall, except the connection found itself around his throat, a collar on him to keep him from fleeing. Not like he could go far in this state anyway, he could only crawl on his knees, ankles wrapped in bandages but only enough to keep them clean, not to keep him upright.

Adam was met with a shock of blood across the room, and a distorted mess of human remains that made his stomach begin to turn. The only thing that kept him from vomiting was the fact he could barely tell what was what, it looked fake enough that his eyes lied to his other senses that could smell the metallic tang of blood and cleaners.

A hand ran through his hair, and Adam jolted, some part of him hoping against hope he'd see someone there to save him, but it was only Lucifer. He was perfectly clean, somehow.

"You don't really know anything about me, do you?" Lucifer asked, fingers catching under Adam's chin, caressing his lip with his thumb. Adam almost bit it, wanting to take something from Lucifer, like Lucifer had taken from him. "You don't seem like the type that watches the news...or reads."

Adam's eyes moved back to the mess of red and white and flesh. His body began to shake, against his will.

"I've actually been killing for a long time now, across the country, but I've wanted to... test my craft, I wanted to tell a story, to put on a performance. I used to be well regarded, you know. But, I had a... fall from grace, people called it." Lucifer explained, using pressure to open Adam's mouth up, and he did so willingly. Fingers pushing into his mouth, rubbing against his tongue. "So, I wanted to tell that story. I wanted to punish them, to make them hurt too."

Lucifer paused, looking down at him with a half smile. "You're supposed to be sucking, Adam."

Adam panicked, trying to push up more so he would be able to suck on his fingers easier. He ran his tongue over and around them, bobbing his head, trying to copy any of the girls that had given him head, but it felt sloppy even to him, and it was weird to do on fingers.

"Good boy," Lucifer hummed, before continuing. "I take them apart, my models. I move them around, until I can make something new. My first creation was a fallen angel, and I hung her in a park, it was the holidays and there was a beautiful old wooden cross there. She looked amazing there, but no one understood I'd given her more purpose than she'd had. They didn't understand that she was art."

Adam realized he had heard mentions of this, some grim murders that had people paranoid, but he'd always been a big guy. He'd get into bar fights, he'd passed out drunk in the street before and nothing had ever happened to him. He was supposed to be safe.

"But, that's how I got the name Lucifer. The fallen angel. I am fond of it, truth be told."

Adam said nothing, trying not to cry as he licked the pads of his fingers, until they were pulled from his mouth, and saliva felt wet dripping down his chin. Lucifer just smiled at him, before reaching down to unzip his pants, pulling himself free in front of Adam. He was stupidly huge, and half hard.

"You don't have to, of course. I'm not a monster." Lucifer said in such a sweet voice that Adam nearly forgot the bloodied remains of a victim not but ten feet away,.

"I want to," Adam said, voice hoarse.

He wanted to live.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

omg hi if ur inbox is open can u give us a short blurb/your thoughts on or some kind of headcanon list for yan tim drake (romantic) bc ur interpretation of him is so yum🤤 i like how you rlly focus on more darker aspects of his character which i dont see a lot of ppl doing unfortunately bc the way he’s a complete FREAK LMFAO🫣🫣

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒…

!!! GN reader, mentally ill Tim, psychotic Tim, just Tim, he’s a problem, manic/depressive episodes, violent tendencies, suicidal tendencies, stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behaviors, gross ways to show affection, slight insinuation of pervy Tim, blood, mutilation, harm to reader mentioned, self-harm, severed body parts, drugging, gaslighting.

YAAAAYYYYYYYYY, TIM DRAKE TIME!!!! This is so long overdue. I’ve been meaning to write for him, but… it just hasn’t happened yet. I hope the ideas will start flowing after I get some of this off my chest. I’ve been harboring so many miscellaneous Tim thoughts for a while.

(Y’all. The CW on this just kept getting longer and longer. My bad.)

First thing’s first, Tim is a fucking mess. There’s no way to know for sure which version of him you’re gonna get each day. Maybe he’s going through a manic episode, coming up with batshit crazy schemes and going on about things that don’t make sense. Maybe he’ll then swing into a depressive fit, where he can’t even bring himself to get up from the floor. Maybe he wakes up completely fine after an hour long nap, regretting whatever initial brash decisions he made. Maybe he quickly turns violent at the sound of knocking at his door. Maybe he wants to claw his own arteries out after trying to maintain a normal social interaction.

The possibilities are endless! Which makes him extremely dangerous.

If you’ve caught the eye of Tim Drake… yikes. Good luck. There’s a chance you don’t even know who he is before he inevitably kidnaps you (completely on a whim, no less). Maybe you’re a total stranger he saw on the street once, captivating him and causing him to spiral into a twisted obsession. While I’ll defend Tim against the fandom allegations until my lungs give out, I’ll admit: they’re on to something when it comes to stalker Tim. Bro definitely has pictures of you covering every square inch of his walls. And, yes, it’s to the point where they overlap each other.

Kidnapping can take anywhere between 3 days and 3 years. During that time, he may try to weasel his way into your life in an attempt to win you over... though we all know how well that would go. As I’ve mentioned before, he may be attractive, but he’s such an off-putting person. Just being around him is enough to give you the creeps. And it doesn’t help he’s completely unaware of how weird some behaviors are. Tim... honey… you can’t shamelessly stare at people with a startling grin like that. I know you’re thinking about how much you want to lick your darling-to-be’s neck, but it’s weird.

Whether he attempts to interact with you or not, one thing’s for sure: he’s stealing your shit. Clothes, toothbrushes, half-eaten food, straws, whatever he can get his hands on. Don’t ask what he does with it. You don’t wanna know. Tim is a neeeaaaasty freak, to the point where even he thinks to himself, “what the fuck is wrong with me” after he calms down from a fit.

Oh, speaking of guilt, Tim is filled with that shit. He may swing from various stages of instability, but there are moments where he’s perfectly fine. And those are the moments where he has to grapple with the consequences of his own actions. Those can range from slightly scaring someone to causing irreversible damage. There have been many times where he snapped out of some episode with blood dribbling down hands and chunks of skin under his fingernails. Who did he hurt? Could be someone else, could be himself, could be you. Who knows!!

Let’s actually get into his suicidal tendencies a bit. His arms and legs are covered in scratches and cuts. Now, this could be explained by his vigilante life, but it gets harder to justify when you get to the bite marks at angles that only make sense if they were self-inflicted. Oh, and also the carvings of your name. He does that a lot. It’s like you’re with him everywhere he goes!! And kind of on the same note, he wants you to have him with you as well!! This could come in the form of strips of skin, vials of blood, toes, an eye, an ear, a spleen… just whatever he’s willing to cut off or out of himself in the moment.

His suicidal tendencies are also connected to those moments of guilt I mentioned before. After calming down and realizing what he’s done, he may harm himself as some sort of penance; especially if he’s done something to you. Depending on how far he spirals from his guilt, he may actually enact “an eye for an eye” (perhaps in the most literal sense) to help make up for what he’s done. Who knows, maybe he’ll replace missing pieces of you with his own. Will it work? No idea. Maybe a skin graph or two, but let’s hope you don’t have to find things out in the more extreme cases.

I think it’s important to keep in mind that Tim Drake is just generally fucked-up. “Normal” Tim doesn’t mean “completely well-adjusted” Tim, it just means he’s not acting on some manic or brash decision. Normal Tim would be fine with chaining or drugging you if he’s justified it to himself. As long as he’s not causing active physical harm to you, he probably won’t see anything wrong with whatever he’s doing in the long run. It’s for your own good, okay? Don’t worry, he’s gone through the possibilities and failsafes. Nothing bad will happen to you!

Unfortunately, manic Tim does not go through the possibilities and failsafes. Well, he kind of does, but the logic is far from realistic and runs in total circles. Whereas drugging you has a rational (fucked up, but still rational) reason behind it — to keep you immobile — filling your ear canal with cement takes some mental gymnastics. Manic Tim doesn’t want you to listen to anyone else. Solution? You can’t hear through concrete, right? At that point, you’re at the mercy of his mood swing RNG. Let’s hope he calms down enough to take a step back and really think about this. Hmm… filling someone’s ears with cement… probably not healthy. Wow. Silly Tim! He let himself get carried away, didn’t he? Whoops! There are more logical ways to keep you from listening to anyone else.

That’s where manipulation comes in. I mean, come on. Y’all know who his mentor is, right? Stable Tim is wicked good at manipulation. Huh? He’s acting weird? Well, he didn’t want to say anything, but he was actually thinking the same thing about you. Yeah, you’ve been kind of off lately… is there something wrong? You sure? You know he’s there for you, right? Okay, just making sure. A gaslighting king when he’s in the right headspace for it. Too bad his psychotic aura gives him away; he’d probably be really good at keeping up appearances if he just got medicated or something.

So… yeah. Just some Tim thoughts. What a charmer, amiright? I don’t think this one’s salvageable. No amount of therapy could ever fix whatever Tim’s got going on. Just throw the whole damn guy away. Start over. Your only hope of escaping him is the chance of someone on the outside realizing what’s up. Here’s to hoping Tim gets institutionalized before he does something really bad!!

[redsrooftopprincess]

Sunglasses

Mid-Teen Turtles, Bro fic

Warnings: Autistic Character, Emotional Overwhelm, Guns, Eyes

Headcanons: Autistic Donnie, Donnie and Raph are twins (You can thank @the-cauldron-witch for this one. She said it and now it's forever in my brain)

"Just give them to me!"

"No! Hell no! I found em!"

"I know you f-" Donatello sighs, removes his glasses, and rubs his eyes, losing patience with his twin. "I know you found them, I just want to modify them a little."

It's not like he doesn't get it. The sunglasses are a big deal. But with Raph deciding he's going to be the one to punch first and not really bother with questions, his eyes need more protection than anyone's. Even outside of combat. More than once, he's found himself on the wrong end of some scared human's can of mace.

"Raph, they're plastic, if they shatter, that plastic is going in your eyes." Donnie insists.

"And if you're the one that shatters em, ain't gonna be no 'if' about it. No Donnie. I'll take my chances." Raphael storms off to his room, taking the glasses with him.

Three hours later, while his brother is sleeping, Don takes them anyway.

It's an act of sacrilege in this home, to take something like this. Something important. Practical and that fits them perfectly. He understands what this means. They don't have much, to put it very gently, so what little they have, what little they can find, and scavenge, and build themselves, is sacred.

But he hates it. Every time Raph throws himself into the meat grinder. Raph's eyesight is decent, and Donnie has a vested interest in making sure it stays that way. They've had so many talks about defensive equipment for his eyes that just end in Raph storming off. But he keeps trying. He has to.

The last attempt, involved trying to convince Raphael to let him build him goggles, but even for someone with a total of three other creatures on the planet to compare himself to, Raphael is vain. They all are, in a way, about certain things. Donnie gets it. They have no control over the fact that they aren't human, so what they *can* control about their bodies is important.

They had found them last night, attached to a discarded sporting goods mascot. They were scuffed and had a crack in them, but holy shit they fit! A pair of glasses that fits that Raphael is willing to wear. Donnie was excited! Finally!

He works through the day, and as expected, Donatello is informed the moment his brother wakes up by way of his name thundering through the lair in a rage. The glasses are not on the nightstand where Raph had left them.

Don winces, thankful to whatever power ensured he finished the project by nightfall, and tenses as he hears his brother storming towards the lab. If Raph had woken up half an hour before, he would have come in to see them in pieces, and would have *properly* freaked out. At least Donnie has a chance of talking him down now that they're finished and functional.

Don takes a deep breath and stands, preparing for the onslaught. When his brother comes into the room, his open hands are up in a placating gesture, "Okay, I know what you're gonna say and-"

"What the fuck Donnie?" He roars, backing his brother into one of the steel tables in the lab. "Where the fuck are they?"

"I promise, they're fine, I just wanted to-"

A soft, familiar sound rings through the air like a gunshot, freezing both of them, as their father clears his throat. He waits patiently for an explanation.

"I found some glasses yesterday, Dad. Ones that actually fit, and he took em for some fu-" Raphael chokes on the almost swear when his father raises an eyebrow, and clears his throat before continuing, "some science experiment."

Their father narrows his eyes at Donatello, who has the good sense to look ashamed. "Dad, if Raph is gonna be wearing them out on the street, I don't want them to break and hurt his eyes. I just wanted to make them stronger. That's all." He says, resisting the urge to shoot an annoyed look at his thick headed brother.

"Did you ask your brother if he would allow this?"

"Yes, Father."

"Did he offer them to you?"

Don hesitates and his father waits, "Well... No... but-"

"I told him no. I specifically told him no," Raphael cuts in. Splinter shoots him a look and he shuts up.

"But I just wanted them to actually protect his eyes! They were a time bomb! If he got hit in the face, he was gonna go blind!"

"Were?! Where the fuck are they, Donnie?" He demands, not even registering the swear word. He looks around and spots them on the work bench. Walking over, he snatches them up.

They look... exactly the same. Only they're heavier.

"I gave them a steel core and shatter proofed the lenses," Donnie snaps, only a little bitterness coming through, "you're welcome."

Raphael wants to be grateful, he really does. They're fine. Better than fine. In addition to the practical changes, his brother had gone so far as to buff out some of the scratches and they looked almost new. But the adrenaline from potentially losing something precious is still coursing through his veins and he's still angry at the violation. He doesn't look up.

"Was there a chance, Donatello," their father asks after a moment, "that in an effort to improve these glasses, you could have broken them beyond repair?"

"Well, I mean, there's always a chance of that happening," he admits, "...but I was careful!" he almost whines.

"Then you will spend the next hour in the hashi while you think of a way to apologize to your brother," Splinter looks at Raphael, "is this acceptable to you?"

Raph glares at him, silent, and nods.

They avoid the topic of the glasses altogether over the next week. Tempers wane, and Donnie serves his punishment, spending 20 hours of his lab time helping Raph with the Motorcycle he's been trying to build. The incident isn't mentioned again.

It's Wednesday night and they're downtown shutting down a gang fight. Pretty normal for this part of town. They thought they'd disarmed all of them first thing, standard protocol. They must have missed one.

The shot rings out, and Raph goes down, hands over his eyes.

Donnie takes out the last three, including the shooter, and sprints to his brother's side. Removing Raphael's hands from his face, they find the bullet stuck in one of the lenses. The glass is broken, but the shatterproof coating kept the shards together and out of Raph's eye.

They look up at each other, shocked at the close call, and Donnie tries *really* hard not to look smug. They make their way home soon after.

After showering and getting ready to sleep for the day, Raph wanders down to the lab.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

Donnie looks up from the graphics card he's repairing and turns around in his chair. He nods.

"Sorry I gave you such a hard time about... you know. I know you were just trying to help."

"Dude, no," Donnie says, "You and Dad were right, what I did wasn't okay. It's just..." He sighs, "You're always the first one in, you know, and- I mean, you're right in the middle of everything... If you suddenly can't see... It's just, not being able to see sucks..." Donnie tries really hard to fight the overwhelm. Tapping the desk to keep himself grounded. This is important, damn it. If he loses it, this conversation is going nowhere

He's tried, he's tried before, but the thought of losing his twin terrifies him. His brother is reckless, and it's Donnie's job to make sure that doesn't get him killed.

He clenches his fists, his voice shutting down. Fuck. His jaw tightens and tears of worry and frustration prickle behind pleading eyes that meet Raphael's. He hopes his brother understands. He usually does. Emotions are hard for Donnie, expressing them, doubley so.

"Okay, how 'bout this," Raph offers, letting him off the hook. He tosses Donnie one of the small, metal brain teaser puzzles on his desk, "I'll agree to hear you out when it comes to my shit, as long as you don't just take it to play with. Deal?"

"Cool. Now," Raph says, pulling the glasses out of his pocket. He'd left the bullet in. It looked cool. "There something we can do about this?"

Don nods emphatically, eyes on the puzzle.

Donnie looks up as the metal rings fall apart in his hands and nods, smiling, "I have a few ideas..."

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[twilightkitkat]

Hi, I have a question, what do you think the relationship between Logan and Steve would be like? Would they be friends or just partners in war? In "X-Men Evolution" You can see how Logan has a certain appreciation for him, saying that both make a great team , and Wade's reaction to knowing that his peanut knows his childhood idol would be very funny, he would surely go crazy

(English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any mistakes)

I think that Logan and Steve have a unique relationship. They're close in the sense that they trust each other and would fight back to back without doubt, but they're distant in the sense that they don't spend a ton of time together. They both have worked together long enough to know that they make a good team and that the other's reliable, but they aren't traditional friends.

I feel like Steve would feel closer to Logan than Logan feels to Steve. Steve remembers the war like it was yesterday, he suddenly woke up in the future with it fresh in his mind. Suddenly everyone he knew is now dead and he has to come to terms with an entirely new reality. He'd struggle and look for any kind of familiarity he could, and so even people he used to just view as teammates he misses. Logan was someone he admired, who used to run into danger and miraculously come out of it alive each time. He was a symbol of hope for Steve, and an inspiration for how he should fight to win the war.

Logan, on the other hand, lived through all those years. He's used to war and violence and meeting people and losing them. Most of it blurs together, after a while. He knew about his immortality and always expected to outlive his teammates, so he kept emotional distance from them. He cared about Steve in a way, they worked together and occasionally they drank together and exchange stories, but he never was under the illusion it'd last. So he did what he was good at: distancing himself before people had the chance to get too close. He respected Steve's abilities and even came to like him, but there was always a wall between them.

But still, the two spent time together. Both out of necessity and occasionally by choice. Steve was more open between the two, and talked about his life and hopes and dreams. Logan couldn't help but listen, even if he couldn't offer much in return. He sometimes sprinkled in half-truths about his life, but kept it vague. He couldn't let anyone find out about his mutant status or actual age, so he was pretty withdrawn. Steve noticed, but didn't comment.

If they reunited, it'd be a one-sided shock. Logan watches TV and naturally knew about Captain America's existence. How could he not, when Steve Rogers was America's poster boy? The Avengers were way too big to fly under the radar. Meanwhile, Steve knew about the X-men's existence, but never thought it might be Logan as The Wolverine he'd heard about.

When they sorted it out, I think Steve would be grateful to have someone who he shared a past with. Who knew about who he used to be and what war was like back then. Logan would feel a little lighter, knowing that his old teammate was doing well. They might not see eye to eye all the time and their methods are pretty different, but they both care.

Wade would be understandably shocked and awestruck when he learned they knew each other. But more than Wade's reaction to Steve, I think that Steve's reaction to Wade would be interesting.

Steve had always seen Logan as someone distant and unattainable. He didn't open up to people and clearly had some secrets he was keeping close. Even after learning about his powers with their reunion, he didn't know everything about his past. He thought Logan was just that kind of guy, caring and kind in his own way but gruff and stoic on the outside. A lone wolf who's dedicated to doing the right thing, but doing it his way.

And here Wade was, bouncing around Logan like a damn pinball in a machine, and Logan was... smiling at him. Fondly, dripping with affection. It's so painfully obvious that he cares and Steve has never seen Logan so open about his feelings. He was expressive, sure, but he guarded his affection and more vulnerable emotions close to his heart.

It'd be a little jarring to see how Logan acted around Wade. Affectionate, free, content. It wasn't like the image Steve had in his head at all and yet it suited him.

It made Steve reflect on himself. If even Logan could act like that, what about him? He'd fostered business relationships, friendships, and teamwork. But maybe he should look for more. (Could he be that happy, too?)

Steve may be America's Poster Boy, but he was alone. He had to stand up and stand out to get recognition. He was the leader, the one people relied on, never allowed to be vulnerable or break character. But if Logan found someone he could rely on, who he saw as an equal...

Maybe Steve has more to learn than just the technology in this new era.

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion

A Mr. Crawling x Reader fic (that may expand into a series!)

This is the first time that I've written anything like this in the past 5 years, so give me some slack if it's bad or cringey lol (also the first fic on Tumblr!)

Set in the ending (and series of events) where you take him home! I've done a few playthroughs so some parts may not be fully accurate, but I'll do my best!

No warnings-- just some minor cursing here and there. 1.8k words!

Enjoy!

 Note: Words in italics are in the ghost language. The blocks represent words reader doesn't understand.

You…

Honestly, you weren’t quite sure what happened these past 24 hours. Half of your now fully-conscious brain had settled on this being some sort of twisted hallucination you experienced after inhaling the noxious spores from some weird mushroom during your bravery challenge. But, the other, half-insane half-sane side of your mind simply cannot deny the manifestation of your nightmares sitting right across from you, a sharp smile stretching from ear to ear and a mop of strangely neat black hair swallowing its figure.

It? He? That, too, was something you didn’t know. Hell, the thing never stood up, and the noises that creaked from its throat were far from human.

But… It was nice. It helped you. It followed you, shielded you, and the pure, radiant happiness it exuded when you proposed, in broken ghostly-language, for it to join you hardly came across as malicious or non-sentient. It had feelings, and while some parts were… wrong, surely, it was owed some sort of humanity, you reasoned.

And so, it became a he, and then a Mr. Crawling-- the highlight of your creativity, truly. You doubted he understood the significance of the slightly different noises coming out of your mouth as you called to him, but still, it was the least you could do.

“... not… go?” He asked, head tilted as he sat patiently on the ground, lanky grayed limbs bent awkwardly into some mix between a w-shape and a regular sitting position. You think he said something else as well, but honestly, you were exhausted, and you hadn’t really had much time to truly learn his language.

“...” You sighed again, looking at him, then your surroundings. You had popped out right where you had started– or somewhere near it, at least, as you recognized the spooky decorations nailed and wrapped around trees. You were back in the forest you had entered before being sucked into… something. At least the light rain had stopped, leaving damp soil and the smell of petrichor to fill your senses instead of the… yeah.

Well, besides, you had nothing on you. Right– it was all in your bag that, for some reason, wasn’t brought alongside the rest of you.

“Need…” you paused, hesitating. How did you say bag? Scrounging through all the corners of your mind left you with a blank, and you searched for the next best thing.

Which would be bucket. Fuck.

Mr. Crawling tilted his head the other way, mouth flattening slightly in what you presume to be confusion. “You… ∎∎∎” he uttered something that didn’t spark a single click of recognition in your brain. “∎∎∎… ∎∎∎. ∎∎∎∎∎∎. Help?” 

You gave one nod. “Yeah, help. Uhm… bucket… “ You made the attempt of drawing out what it looked like in the dirt while ignoring the small amount of embarrassment that rose in your chest at your horrific attempt to communicate.

You jabbed at the middle of the drawing of your rather simple bag. “Uh- blood.” You muttered, figuring it was the closest thing to whatever the actual word for red was.

Mr. Crawling frowned a bit, then chirped a “Me help you ∎∎∎ bucket! ∎∎∎ ∎∎∎∎?” With a much more pleasant smile. 

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks. Ok, so… I guess we’ll split up?”

Mr. Crawling stared blankly with that dopey smile and you sighed, standing up. You felt a little bad for making a… disabled ghost? Yeah, a disabled ghost do some of the work. Shoeless and possibly pant-less

Damn. You’ve stooped down low these past few hours.

_____________________________

Honestly, you were surprised at just how efficient a disabled ghost was when left in the dark, blind, and in an environment he’s never been in before. Just as you were about to give up and start heading back into civilization, you heard a gleeful, familiar bone-chilling giggle followed by “Me ∎∎∎ bucket blood!”

Your head shoots up, “You did?!” As you rushed off to the bushes where he had wandered off. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you spotted the familiar bag, grabbing it from Mr. Crawling’s hands. “Thank you,” you smiled, weary but grateful, as Mr. Crawling giggled once again.

“Happy! Happy!” He said, reaching out to pat your head again.

You found yourself letting out a small laugh as well at the unusually tender action, giving your bag a quick once-over to confirm everything was there. When you spotted your phone, you quickly tapped on the screen, letting out a quick breath of relief as it lights up only for it to immediately be followed by a small wince.

Over 50 missed calls and 100 messages… yikes. And with a glance at the time and date, you understood why. Turns out, your sense of time was rather accurate– it had been just over a day since your disappeared.

“Hurt? You hurt?” Mr. Crawling asked, leaning in close to do his ghost-equivalent of looking. Honestly, you can’t be bothered to question why, how, or even what he’s seeing when all you’ve noticed on his face was a deep red wound in place of his eyes. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Uhm. It’s, uhm, humans. Humans worry… no– me worry humans.” You explained the best you could, standing up again. Mr. Crawling looks up, confused. 

“You safe.” He says, crawling towards you rather slowly. “Humans ∎∎∎?” 

You shake your head. “Go together with me.” You say with a bit of force. The desire to get home and in bed overshadows much of anything else that could run through your mind.

Mr. Crawling, however, doesn’t seem to mind your curtness, breaking out into another small fit of uncanny giggles as he follows after you, letting out a small mantra of “Together together together together!”

With half fondness and half exasperation, you trudge on with a smile, feeling like this experience was more akin to a person walking their dog rather than a human leading a ghost to their home. Which… you choose to think about another day. You really, really don’t want to contemplate any more images of your death.

You were so tired.

But, after nearly half an hour of much slower-than typical walking, your patience was wearing thin.

As it turns out, disabled ghosts walk– crawl much slower on slippery, uneven terrain than their familiar concrete floors. You’ve had to slow significantly so that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t get too tangled up in roots and rocks, and a part of you worried for the safety of his bare legs, but every passing glance resulted in a tiny glimpse of smooth, unharmed skin. You assume he was taking extra care to ensure he doesn’t get hurt.

But, still, every passing hour drains your phone’s limited battery and therefore your limited ability to navigate through whatever area of the city you wind up in upon exiting the mountains. You really couldn’t afford to keep slowing down or to risk losing your understanding of where to walk by circling around roots and trees. They had passed most of the decorations by now, leaving only trees and the very faint noise of any rare passing cars.

Eventually, you kneel back down, waving at him to get his attention. “Mr. Crawling.” You hum, watching as he perked up.

“∎∎∎!” He chirped, getting to your position in a few seconds.

“Me…” You hesitate. “... Me you… up.” You said, staring at him to see whether or not he understood. You were sure that, without… a lot of things necessary for life, he would be light enough for you to carry. Sure, you weren’t the fittest of the bunch, but you were healthy and exercised. In fact, you’re sure that your physical health was the only reason you lasted that long in that death trap.

His head tilted, then he grinned. “... Me you ∎∎∎?”

You sighed, contemplating. That was a vaguely familiar word, and you could almost hear something else in your memories having said it.

But before you could actually responded, Mr. Crawling lunged up at you, bringing you down to the ground in one swift motion. You let out a scream, your throat raw and strained by now, but settled in once you realized where you were.

“Mr. Crawling, what are you–?” You let out a half-scream of shock as he began to scoot across the floor with his legs, holding you firmly in his lap, cold yet sturdy arms caging you in.

He giggled, “Me ∎∎∎! Me ∎∎∎ you!”

You balked, and then the word clicks– carry! Well, carry or lift or hold– something along those lines. You remembered that decapitated head speaking it. The head that you had left behind in the hands of that… goat thing.

“Me carry you!” Mr. Crawling giggled, and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that this was twice as slow as their previous pace (and actual snail’s pace) you might’ve just stayed here and squeezed a nap in.

“Wait, no– no!” You wiggled, trying to loosen his arms. You couldn’t– not through sheer force, as his arms felt like stone bricks, but he loosened his hold on his own, leaning in far too close and spewing out a cycle of: “Hurt? Hurt? Damaged? You sad?” 

You sighed, shaking your head. Well, at least now you know the word. “No, me carry you. Me carry you.” You said, trying to convey through hand motions that it would be faster.

Then… Mr. Crawling giggled. Laughed. Directly at your face. “You carry me? Me ∎∎∎, you ∎∎∎!” 

In your heart, you knew you were being laughed at, and you felt heat rushing to your ears as you sputtered in indignation. “What– listen, I can carry you! You’re not even alive, so you probably don’t have water or blood or any other thing in you that makes you as heavy as–”

“Cute!” Mr. Crawling cooed with another giggle, playing with your ears, his fingers gentle despite how coarse they felt. The coolness of them actually felt… nice against your burning ears.

You balked, “You–!”

Your breath was interrupted as cement arms wrapped around you again and his butt-scooting continued. 

“Hey, I– !”

“You ∎∎∎ rest!” He said happily, strong legs picking up the pace and pushing small mounds of dirt across the forest floor.

Well… that was actually amendable. Maybe you’d get to the city before sunrise at this pace.

“Rest rest!” He said, one arm reaching up to pat your head. “You ∎∎∎! You rest! You safe.”

You let out another sigh, though you hardly put any heart into it, leaning against him more as you felt the rhythmic stop and push of him quite literally dragging the both of us to safety.

A disabled ghost… helping a fully-capable human move.

You snort, letting your eyes fall shut.

What has your life become?

________________________________________________

And that's all! Thank you so much for stopping by! If you're interested, I just wanted to add some notes for anybody paying a bit more attention to minor details in this fic.

Yes, the reader is exhausted and far too tired to ask why a ghost who "can't use his legs" is currently using them as a motor to propel them across the forest floor. Give them some slack! They nearly died about 3 times lmao. (And I have mentally planned out a timeframe where they realize this exact piece of info)

I am aiming for the reader to be completely G/N (for our rare male players) but I may slip up and call them she/her or accidentally follow the canon a bit too closely.

Honestly, while it is based in Japan, most of my understanding outside of some rare visits comes from anime. So, in my head, the local high school was hosting a bravery challenge up in the forest on the mountains and the reader was dragged along with their friends (reader is a working young adult, ~25 years old). In my world, the city they live in is maybe 40 minutes away from that specific area in the mountains. I'm contemplating making the reader American-Japanese (who resides in the US and visited Japan for a vacation to meet up with old friends, or something like that).

Yes, I know that "bucket" in the ghost language isn't correct (the correct word is "container" or something more vague like that) but I can't recall if the reader gets to go to the SOS room on this route where Mr. Crawler refers to the pencil case/make-up bag with that same word, so their only experience would be learning the word through buckets with Mr. Hood.

I may accidentally call Mr. Crawling "Mr. Crawler." I'm pretty sure I haven't done that in this fic, but this is simply a warning for the future lmao.

That's all! Thanks again!^^

[reborrowing]

skipping breakfast

if you give a mouse a cookie, he may still want to leave. (part of stranger swap, but stands on its own) contains: fear/PTSD flashback, misunderstandings, reference to past abuse

Hollow’s ears pricked at the muffled sound of a phone alarm. It was the right tone to be from this unit and loud enough that it probably was sounding from the next room over. He scowled, counting the days back in his head. He was still sure it was a Monday.

He hadn’t bothered to check for the host before setting out. In the six months since they’d moved in, they hadn’t once missed a day of work. He held his breath as the alarm looped and repeated itself in a louder cry—maybe they’d forgotten their phone? No. Another second passed, something heavy shifted in the other room, and the alarm went silent. Maybe they were sick.

Hollow decided he didn’t care. He just needed to stay out of sight, same as ever. 

There was no good way to get off this shelf in particular without roping into the open, but the display was a decent enough place to hide, however eerie it felt. The host here made and collected miniatures.

To Hollow, and any other borrowers lured in by the strange collection, it felt like an alleyway cut out of some alternate universe’s walls or maybe a series of theater stages.  The shelf was busy and strange enough that some came here even without any intention of borrowing, only to see the strange collection. The rooms were more exposed than any living space had any right to be with half the walls missing and the furniture was mostly too small to be used by an adult, but some things made more sense after seeing them as they were meant to be seen—the sheer monotony of their counters and furniture disappeared, if nothing else.

And there was plenty to take  for someone of Hollow’s mindset: piles of decorative items, wall hangings, cushions, occasional bit of dinnerware—all of it felt much nicer than the cheap plastic and cardboard pulled out of a child’s toy box. And Hollow found that the colony kids always liked the little clay foods, familiar ingredients made alien when portrayed as handheld objects. Most stuff in these shelves was pretty junk, essentially, not stuff anyone needed, but the host also kept nice fabrics and clay and other useful materials in their crafting cabinets. The apartment was a good unit to borrow from, when the host wasn’t home and thudding into the room.

Hollow ducked behind a wooden counter—one now missing a piece of its carefully arranged tea set—to get out of sight. He meant to stay there until the host settled down somewhere with something to hold their attention. He didn’t have a backup plan when they decided to pause in front of this particular display shelf.

Hollow shuddered. He hated borrowing when the host was home. He hated them, all of them. He wouldn’t have come here had he known the host was home. Had he left something out of place? Had they seen him? Had they already seen someone else borrowing from them? Did they know?

The shadow of the host’s reaching hand, even while it was still a foot away, sent him scrambling in the opposite direction, making them yelp. So she hadn’t actually noticed Hollow until he panicked. At least he could take advantage of the host’s surprise to bolt. His breath trembled in his throat. He was so intent on getting safe, he forgot where he was, just that he couldn't let her catch him because this time she’d kill him. He tore through one carefully placed scene and then another. He only stopped when he reached the end of the shelf and only to grab his line—the line that he’d left out on the other end of the shelf to allow for a quick escape. He inhaled sharply and considered the long drop in front of him. 

“Whoa, no, don’t—”

Hollow jumped.

The laminate floor was far enough to hurt, he knew, but he had plenty of practice being hurt. As long as he landed right, he ought to be able to roll under that chair before she could step on him at least. It would take the kid a few seconds to get her hands down to the floor and hopefully he’d be able to get some more distance between him and her before–

A mattress of flesh interrupted his fall. He stared up in horror at a stranger’s face and shook under the memory of a much angrier human’s glare. He couldn’t bring himself to move, even as he was probed by a thumb half as tall as he was. The meaty digit lingered on his right side and massaged the point where his arm ended and his prosthetic began. Hollow flinched in slow motion.

“Oh,” the host breathed with a convincingly sympathetic tone. “You’ve really been through it huh?”

With a shaky hand Hollow reached for the sewing pin on his back and wished he had worn his uglier prosthetic. It was awful and clunky, and not particularly helpful on a normal borrowing run, but he bet that pen knife sticking out of it would have been enough to make a human flinch. As soon as Hollow aimed his pin down at the palm that held him, another pair of fingers came out of nowhere to easily pull it away.

“Okay, no, no, please don’t make me drop you, okay? I’m really sorry if I’m scaring you, I’m trying to help,” the host said.

They gave him a pitying smile and Hollow scowled, looking away his tongue before the shadows could twist back into that girl and beat him. Each time Hollow tried moving towards the edge of the palm, the host tilted their hand or brought up their fingers to block him. After several attempts, he shuddered as one of the fingers landed against his chest and sat back down in the middle of the open palm. 

“I don’t want you to fall, little guy. Why don’t we go sit down at the counter? I was about to make breakfast,” the host said. The wall of their belly jerked with a brief laugh. “Well, I was going to see how that polish dried, but I’ll deal with that later. You steady?”

Hollow buried his head in his knees and tried unsuccessfully to pretend he was somewhere else. His stomach dropped as the hand swayed then bucked as his clawed toes reflexively clung to the moving floor.

The host exhaled sharply and cupped their hand to better secure him. Hollow shivered, his fur standing all on end as the flesh closed in around him, and braced to be crushed. The movement slowed and Hollow peeked out to watch the host grab one of the chairs from another display. One of his toys. Hollow was just another thing to be played with. 

“I’m Jude, by the way, he/him,” the host said.

There was a pause.

“You don’t talk much, huh? Can you at least understand me?”

Hollow nodded, still glaring down towards the floor. He wasn’t even sure if he could speak at the moment and he didn’t want to try. Borrowers didn’t speak to humans, as a rule, even when they did get caught. He’d done it when he thought he had had no choice and it hadn’t made things any easier.

“That’s good, I guess, so you at least know I’m friendly.” 

Hollow believed no such thing.

Jude stepped away from their miniature displays—away from the critical gear Hollow had left behind—and crossed the apartment to the kitchen. Hollow watched Jude’s feet shuffle across the carpet with a seething envy. It was such a quick trip this way, straight across the open room in just a few easy strides. Sometimes, he wished he had followed his mother to an outdoors life where he wouldn’t have to spend so much time in human spaces where he found himself comparing their lives to his own.

“Alright, I’ll set you down here, if that’s okay?”

Hollow would be okay being set down anywhere, even onto a heated burner, if it meant a chance to get away from the host’s sweaty fingers. But with nothing to say and the human staring down at him expectantly, he exhaled shakily and nodded.

The host’s fingers shifted beneath him and he slowly slid onto the blessedly solid countertop. He spun back around and craned his neck to watch the looming host. He didn’t want to look at Jude, didn’t like the overwhelming reminder of their difference in scale, but preferred it to facing his back to the giant.

“You’re still shaking. You really are afraid of me, huh? I'm sorry,” Jude said. “Here, why don’t you sit down?”

Hollow tensed as the host’s second hand stretched towards him. For a moment it was the girl’s hand again and a memory of pain flashed down his spine. His half-tail twitched and tucked against his leg as he backed away. Jude set the toy chair down beside him and withdrew. He stared suspiciously at the human’s toy couch. The back looked stiff and uncomfortable but otherwise sturdy.

“Yeah, there you go. Take a minute to breathe, it’s okay, no judgment,” Jude said.

He did as he was told but as soon as Jude’s back was turned, Hollow started looking for his escape route. There was a familiar outlet nearby, one that Hollow and every other working borrower in the colony used to get into this unit. He couldn’t be seen going out that way, not if anyone wanted to use it again. And it would be a shame to lose access to this apartment, this was such a good one to borrow from. He needed to get to the floor where he could escape unseen. The drop to the floor still didn’t scare him; a borrower could fall a long ways without getting hurt, but so long as Jude was watching, Hollow was stuck. He wouldn’t do anything that risked bringing that fucking hand back towards him.

The way Jude moved the world within the kitchen made Hollow too aware of how small he really was. The plastic vat of flour, the tower of baking powder, the door to the nigh-impenetrable refrigerator…in Hollow’s world, these things were all well-secured vaults that had to be broken into. It took time and a solid plan to retrieve the contents. Jude did so instantaneously, talking the whole time, and in nearly unthinkable quantities.

No matter how many times he had been here, this was not Hollow’s world.

He sat quietly on the toy couch until the quiet got too loud and the host turned to look at him. He realized suddenly that the host had stopped talking and that the words had probably been for him and he really should have made an effort to listen. He could feel the expectation that Hollow should do something in those big eyes and he tensed, waiting for the girl to lunge forward to hurt him, or maybe this time she’d hurt…

Hollow grit his teeth. He was alone. With Jude. Who was, so. far, significantly less hostile than the girl or any other human he’d encountered. He could try to get along until he could get away. Maybe some of them were capable of mercy, or at least some patience.

He doubted it.

- Jude was already awake and out of bed by the time he registered that he had the day off and he’d just forgotten to turn off his stupid alarm. He looked back at the blankets but knew the chances of him falling back to sleep now were slim to none. He may as well take advantage of a few extra morning hours on his extra day, not that he had any plans. It was just nice to not have to rush out and deal with a parade of impatient strangers.

He stretched lazily and made his way to the front room. Sun filtered through the curtain and caught a cloud of dust particles dancing in the light. If Jude were a slightly more meticulous person he might spend the day tidying his place but already his thoughts had started to wander to what he might be able to craft or at least get started on before the day’s end. He’d finished his last project the previous night so could work on just about anything without stressing over anything in-progress.

At least, he hoped he had finished the project. He could check on it now that it had had time to dry. The pieces would be done one way or the other, but there was a decent chance he’d ruined them instead of finished them by using some questionable varnish. It was all he had had on hand and at 3am with nothing open but Amazon it had seemed like a good idea to risk it instead of waiting.

A shadow on the shelf shifted when he went to check and Jude screamed, embarrassed as soon as the sound left his mouth. Then came the second wave of embarrassment at being so self-consciousness when nothing was here to watch him but a few sculpted figures and their shadows.

His eyes caught back up with the movement and he realized that it hadn’t been a trick of the light. It’s just a figurine falling over, he thought at first, then, oh no, mouse? as it scrambled across the shelf. Jude shook his head as his mind caught up with his eyes. It was a tiny person, slightly larger than any of Jude’s figurines, and they were very much alive. He wasn’t alone at all and for a moment he was dumbstruck.

He’d always wanted fairies to be real. It was why he had started making miniatures and dollhouse furniture way back when he was a little girl and had persisted into his adulthood. And now, here one was, apparently enticed by Jude’s own handiwork. He had to bite back giddy laughter, lest his little guest think he was being laughed at. The poor thing looked nervous enough as it was.

Terrified even, he realized as he leaned forward for a closer look. But not scared enough to try to jump from up there, right?

Right???

Wrong.

Jude was too slow to stop him, but thankfully quick enough to catch him. He gasped as he landed in his hand. Jude didn’t know why he would expect otherwise, but the intruder was so light—about as substantial as the mouse he’d first been mistaken for. Jude pulled his hand in close to better keep steady as he looked. him over.

He wasn’t quite a fairy, at least not how most people would think of them. His guest had no wings or glitter and was far too grim to be made of light or children’s laughter. He didn’t seem bloodthirsty enough to be the other type of fairy either. He was …just a little guy, and not a very lucky one by the looks of him. He was dressed in rags and missing his arm and most of an ear. His tail looked like the end was scarred and withered; Jude suspected he’d lost the rest of that too.

The little guy’s eyes watered like he was about to cry and Jude did his best to soothe his fears. God, he was a pretty thing. Jude had spent a lot of time admiring the details of miniature things, but the little intruder was unbelievably exquisite: a masterpiece that only nature could craft. Jude was flattered that the little guy would be interested in his clumsy work at all.

He was determined to give the little guy a proper thanks before parting ways. Maybe if it went well enough, it would convince him to stay for awhile. Maybe even stick around as friends? Jude could hope. In any case, he thought pancakes and a comfortable seat would be a good start.

He did his best to move slowly and carefully as he prepped the kitchen, making sure to give the little guy as much space as he could. He wished he knew what to say to help the poor thing understand he wasn’t in any danger here. Everything Jude did only made him tremble more. Maybe just sitting there with a little cap full of cool water for a few minutes would let his panic wind down.

But as he mixed the batter Jude started to worry it wasn’t or that he was failing as a host in some other way. Had he missed some nicety the little guy expected or broken some unknown rule? No touching, maybe, but he’d already put him down. Were pancakes a bad choice? He’d given Jude a quick glance at his teeth and they had looked pretty sharp, maybe Jude’s vegan pantry was no more appealing to the little guy than the sculpted fruits on the shelf.

“You can eat this, right? Or maybe I shouldn’t assume? I could do something else or even run to the store if there’s not anything in my kitchen that looks like a proper meal to you? Is there something else you’d normally eat?”

Jude looked over to his guest for an answer and got only a slight shudder and a blank stare. A second passed and it was like the little guy saw a ghost. He paled and shrank back into the couch, mouthing something beyond Jude’s perception. It was all Jude could do not to reach out to try and physically reassure him—something that could only make things worse at this point.

“That’s, aw, you’re just too quiet, huh? Um, maybe just nod or shake your head? Do you eat pancakes? Or want to, at least?”

The little guy took a breath of relief and nodded hastily, shoulders easing back down when Jude smiled at him.

Jude turned his attention back to his cooking, neatly pouring out the batter. His heart skipped with delight as he doled out a few bite-sized drops for his guest. Pancakes made it easy to offer up a miniature serving alongside his own breakfast and the stack looked perfectly adorable on the coin-sized plate he’d pulled off of his display. Evidently the meal looked good to the the little guy as well, as he was willing to lean forward to grab it off of Jude’s finger. He snatched it away with his one hand, letting the tiny fork slip down onto the countertop, and flinched back into the couch.

“Can you…should I grab you a table as well? I wasn’t thinking about how you’d hold it” Jude said.

He shook his head without looking up. Jude watched with eager eyes as the little guy shifted slightly in his seat and the clasp at the end of his prosthetic opened then pinched closed, catching the edge of his plate to keep it steady in his lap and freeing up his hand.

“That’s so cool, did you make that yourself?”

The little guy glanced at his prosthetic and, if only for a brief second, a proud smile flickered across his face. Then he nodded and hid the expression by stuffing half a pancake into his mouth.

“I’ve got syrup, you don’t have to eat that plain, if you don’t want,” Jude offered.

His guest watched him suspiciously but his eyes widened and he nodded when he recognized the bottle of syrup that Jude retrieved. He poured a bit into the lid—he’d just have to clean it up later—and slid it across the counter to his wary guest, who eagerly sopped up as much as he could from the cap once he was sure he had his space back. And when he ran out of pancake, he scooped out an extra helping with his bare hand. Sweet tooth, Jude thought affectionately as he sat down with a plate of his own.

“You’ve been coming here for awhile, right? I’ve noticed stuff going missing since I moved in,” Jude said.

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. The little guy froze, letting the rest of the syrup drop into his lap, and his eyes once more danced around in a search for an escape. Jude raised his hands in a show of innocence.

“No, no, it’s okay! I just—you don’t have to sneak around. I’m glad someone likes my stuff, and you’re getting more use out of it than anyone on etsy would, you know?” Jude said. “I was gonna say you’re welcome to come back again for more. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”

The little guy’s posture truly relaxed for the first time that morning and Jude wondered what it was that was so reassuring—that he was welcome to keep taking props, maybe? Jude hoped he wouldn’t regret that in the coming weeks. Some of it would hurt to lose.

“It’s a shame you can’t talk. I’ve never seen anyone like you before, you know? I don’t even know what to call you,” Jude said.

The little guy chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second before pointing at the small pile of mail sitting on the edge of the counter. With a little more prompting, Jude picked out a seasonal bit of junk mail advertising local fall deals.

“The flyer? No, the pumpkin? Uh, jack-0-lantern? Jack? Your name is Jack?”

The little guy’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. He pointed at the clip-art again, this time holding up two fingers. Two words? Two syllables? Two…something.

“Jack-o? Jackie?”

A scowl.

“Um…Pumpkin?”

Little guy rolled his eyes.

“Not pumpkin, then? That would be cute though, a little Pumpkin,” Jude said.

Probably-Not-Pumpkin huffed impatiently and mimed writing something. Jude felt his ears tinge red. He should have thought of that.

“Duh. Okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll grab you a pencil lead or I think I have…I’ll find something you could use to write, gimme a sec,” Jude said.

He hopped up to grab something from his desk. He had some tiny colored pencils he’d picked up on a whim once, but they’d probably be too large. It might force the guy write large enough that Jude could actually read his handwriting though—was that selfish? After a minute or so of back and forth with himself, he snapped a bit of lead from a mechanical pencil and turned back to the kitchen. That minute was all that Not-Pumpkin needed to disappear.

Jude searched carefully around the kitchen floor, but found no sign of where he’d gone. He sighed. He really thought they’d been getting along. He just had to hope the promise of sweets and props would be enough to bring the little guy back.

-

In the wallways, Hollow hesitated to mark the unit as unsafe. He knew Jude wouldn’t forget about this visit, wouldn’t forget that borrowers were real, but if he’d already known…there was no reason to get himself in trouble with the council if the host wasn’t going to try and trap any intruders. Jude hadn’t meant to keep him there, it seemed, though Hollow didn’t understand exactly why. He was just grateful that he'd been willing to believe that Hollow would write to him.

He made hesitant scratches in the wood to warn his fellow borrowers that the host inside had seen something. It was a simple glyph, vague, and hopefully enough to make the next person to pass through extra careful. He didn’t take the time to mark the other escapes. He was tired. His panic was subsiding, leaving him frustrated and exhausted.

His bag had been left behind, along with the best of his gear and all his loot. But as he trekked back through the darkness, he let relief win over the frustration. He had plenty of time to rebuild his kit. He wasn’t in a cage. He’d gotten away. He’d even had a good, rich meal and stuffed away enough leftovers to give his daughter.

He was home. They were safe.

--

taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday @gt-daboss @whumpinthepot (To be added/removed from the taglist please comment, ask, or message, I’ll forget if it’s just in the tags of a reblog!)

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For the main skellies pls...how good are they in physical combat and pain tolerance???

Undertale Sans - He's good in physical combat because he is a rare subspecies, a Judge. Judges were annihilated during the war by humans because of how powerful they are, as they can inflict as much damage as the LV the people they're fighting have, their only weakness being their low HP, because their magic is more developed than their life force. Sans is like the last of them. Sans, however, doesn't really know that. All he knows is that his magic is weird and powerful for some reason and that he dislikes using it. So he keeps his skills in combat well hidden and shows them only in extremely desperate times. Only Asgore knows what he is, but seeing that Sans obviously doesn't want to be a warrior, he lets him go and lets his people forget about the Judge monsters. Toriel has suspicions too, but she never really finds the courage to talk to Sans about this. Sans would probably not like that anyway. Other than that, he is pretty resistant to pain. He doesn't like showing when he's sick or in pain and will try to pretend everything is alright for the longer he can.

Undertale Papyrus - He's extremely good and extremely powerful. It's a shame Undyne realized that after reaching the Surface and overhearing her saying he could never make it to the Royal Guard. Papyrus is not interested in fighting anymore. He accepted long ago that his hands are made more for healing and helping people than hurting people. That doesn't mean he can't defend himself though, far from that. Papyrus' magic always had been extremely powerful, and actually, way too much for him to handle, and when he needs to, he lets go of everything, and good luck with that lol. What he showed Frisk or even Undyne is not even half of what he can do. He's pretty average on pain tolerance, except in combat, where he can take a lot of hits before renouncing.

Underswap Sans - Blue was born to fight and nothing ever stopped him to follow his dream. Alphys saw great potential in him at a young age, and even if Blue struggled to follow any sense of authority and often preferred to follow his instincts, it was pretty clear to her that he would become one of his best soldiers. He is extremely good and precise in fights and added to that, he is a very good strategist. Most of his plans succeed. That was no surprise to anyone when he was the first to volunteer to enter the police. Alphys trained him a few months to teach him how to lead a team, then she left him on his own to go back to civil life with Undyne. Blue is working hard to make her proud. All the criminals in town know his name and they fear him, but he's even flawless, far from that. He tends to put himself in danger all the time, and sometimes it comes back to bite him. He's resistant to pain though and doesn't mind getting hurt to protect his colleagues.

Underswap Papyrus - He can defend himself if he really needs it too. That's his max though. Honey is not a fighter and growing up in the shadow of his brother succeeding in everything in his life made sure he didn't want to be one. He's not really strong, he's not really powerful, he hides behind big monsters when things are bad and he doesn't have any resistance to pain lol. Leave him alone. Honey biggest strength is his empathy and his intelligence. He doesn't need to be a soldier to show everyone what he can do.

Underfell Sans - He's a good fighter but he's also a very good survivalist. He perfectly knows he's not really strong, nor really smart, and so he will always choose to flee instead of fighting if he has the choice. Survival before anything else. However, if cornered, Red is for sure a force you for sure don't want to deal with. He's brutal, and merciless and his powerful attacks are aimed to kill or injure badly until he finds a way to escape. You really don't want to see what he's really capable of. He has a good resistance to pain. He already went through some horrible things before and it's hard to break him.

Underfell Papyrus - He's obviously an excellent fighter. Edge had been enrolled in the Royal Guard very young, and was the only one to survive his battalion, all killed by Asgore during their initiation ritual. Edge never knew why Asgore kept him alive, either because Sans paid him or the King saw something in him. He'll never know. After that, Edge was forced to improve, constantly, if he wanted to be enough to not be executed. He became captain only a few months later, thanks to his great mind and how he managed to bring peace back to Snowdin, reputed to be full of rebels and little criminals. He's an excellent strategist, and that's the reason why, after some time, Asgore tried to assassinate him lol, because Edge was a lot more popular than him, and represented a threat to the crown. Too bad Edge saw that coming. Now on the Surface after Asgore's brutal death, after he tried to force Undyne to be his wife, Edge lost a bit of his combat skills, as he doesn't want to do anything with the guard. But he's still very dangerous, alone or in a duo with Undyne. He has an extreme resistance to pain, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. He can have both legs broken, but he'll still keep fighting. But that also means he has a very bad tendency to hide his injuries from everyone, and sometimes for a very long time, until he can't physically stand up anymore.

Horrortale Sans - He's a very dangerous fighter and you really don't want to have him as an enemy. Oak is completely unpredictable and smart and he is still a Judge Monster, despite all the changes in his personality. He can't use his magic for long, but now that he has LV, his attacks are devastating. Unlike Sans, he perfectly knows how powerful he is, and will do all he can to scare the threat off before actually attacking. He doesn't want to fight, but he wants to know people that he can perfectly do it if they keep pushing. You don't want to fight him, he's deadly, maybe even more than the Fell skeletons. He has an extreme resistance to pain too, but that's mainly because the part of his brain that used to tell him when he's in pain is gone. It's a good thing because he doesn't feel like he's injured. But that's also a bad thing because Oak can't really tell when his injuries are too much or when they are too important for him to keep fighting. In everyday life, that's also a big problem because he can't tell when something is burning for example, which can lead to severe injuries. He already lost a finger once because of that. That's one of the many reasons why Willow is always on his back: Oak can't tell when he's hurt. So Willow has to do that for him.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow won't fight until he has really no other choice, both because he is limited in what he can do physically with his disabilities, but also because he is scared of his own magic. It was already difficult to control it before, now it's completely unpredictable and wild. When Willow attacks for real, you most likely not survive, even if he tries to hold back. His attacks are extremely powerful and brutal, and he can't choose how to aim at the good people, which makes him dangerous for his allies as well. Added to that, using his magic often leaves him on the verge of dying because he uses way too much magic than what he's supposed to. Other than that, Willow has a good resistance to pain. He doesn't really have a choice as he's constantly in pain. He just got used to it.

Swapfell Sans - He's a good fighter, but he's tired of fighting constantly. Nox adapts to almost every situation and changes his style of combat according to it. He's extremely precise. He was recruited really young in the guard, then got noticed by the Queen and she decided to train him herself. Nox is as strong as a boss monster and his name is enough to scare even the most powerful warriors of the Royal Guard. But behind this hide years of abuse, both mentally and physically, and the extreme pressure the Queen put on his shoulders, as she trained him to be the next King of Monsters. Nox said nothing Underground, but now that he is on a Surface, he is realizing everything he lost those years, his personality, his brother, his teenage years... And that made him just a tiny bit rebellious. Even if he feels better now, after reaching the Surface, Nox looked for troubles, hoping some monsters would kill him before he can access to the throne. He realized after that it meant leaving his brother all alone and calmed down, but he changed a lot. He prefers to defend than attack now and does his best to not always be in the frontlines. He's still a very scary opponent though. He has a good resistance to pain, but unlike Edge, he learned to ask for help when he needs it.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's a tricky one. Rus is actually a good fighter. His brother trained him, and even though they separated Underground, Rus kept training on his own. He's not as precise as a soldier, but he's extremely smart. He usually only dodges for a long time, forcing his opponent to use his magic. And when the guy gets tired, he attacks at full force and at the speed of light, usually surprising his opponent enough for them to either have to retreat or to change their strategy entirely. He's dangerous, more than what people think, but he prefers way more to find a peaceful end to his fights, by talking or annoying his opponents until they get tired of him and leave lol. Rus does this effect on people. He has a low resistance to pain though. He's a true drama queen when he's in pain and even with a little splinter in the finger, he acts like he's in agony.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Probably one of the most dangerous skeletons. Wine is before all a genius strategist. Even if he can fight terribly well and with extremely powerful attacks, he prefers to keep his best skills hidden to surprise his enemies. That's no fun if he attacks stupidly. No, what Wine likes is underground battles. Manipulating people so they turn against their people at the last second, destroying the entire economy so that his opponents can't buy enough weapons, recruiting spies, and training them to assassinate some people without anyone being able to know he's the one who did it... Wine prefers to work hidden and make a theatrical appearance at the end once their opponent realizes they're completely screwed and that he didn't even have to fight to get to this result. Then he attacks and destroys them completely. The Queen and the King fear him, his rivals fear him, everyone fear him and so he usually doesn't have to do anything because they are all so scared of him that they stay very far away and let him do anything he wants. Don't let that guy be too close to any government, that might end really badly. Wine never got severely injured so he doesn't know how high is his resistance to pain. He's not too worried though. Good luck to the cretin who's going to try to kill him lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee never learned how to fight. He knows basic techniques to defend himself, but that's all Wine taught him. Coffee grew up locked in a house, not authorized to leave without his brother, and he ended up believing all of this was normal. It's only once he reached the Surface that he started questioning all of this. He's not very brave or very strong, everything scares him outside, but he's so tired of being considered as the weak little brother of the general of the Royal Guard. Coffee is still learning to be independent. He's not a good fighter and he is not resistant to pain, but he can learn. He's desperate to learn actually. He doesn't want to hurt his brother's feelings, but his objective is to leave the house and have a life on his own, to show Wine that he can do it and doesn't need to be protected. Sure, it's going to be a hard journey, as he has no social codes whatsoever, but he's trying.

[ultimateloserboy]

rare shadow the hedgehog post but i actually dislike shipping him with any of the girls and heres why (please hear me out chat) (no hate btw just an opinion)

first of all, rouge specifically is implied to have a sister relationship to him. its implied multiple times, especially in SA2 that he sees her as a sister the way he saw maria, and when shes in danger he feels the same fear of losing a sister. ignoring that, i feel, takes away from both of their characters and is kinda weird.

second of all, expanding on my previous point— i think shadows deep respect for women and girls is a huge part of him and it doesnt stem from attraction at all which i think is actually VERY important. he sees every woman as an extension of his sister, while her killers were men, and all villains afterwards are ALSO more men! he trusts women and girls naturally, while he distrusts every man he comes across. this doesn’t necessarily mean he sees every girl AS maria and every man AS GUN or other villains, but he does see them in similar light.

shadow has seen the cruelty of men compared to the cruelty of women and from his perspective, women have only been positive influences, people to admire— while the enemy is always a man. i feel turning that to attraction takes the sentiment away of WHY he respects women so highly in the first place. not saying he cant like women, i just feel none of the girl characters hes close to would work without taking this factor out of him. he cares for them so heavily out of deep respect and i feel its kinda disappointing to change that to attraction. it defeats the whole point.

and before anyone says “ok sonadow shipper!” or some dumb shit, the reason why i dont mind him being paired with men isnt cuz i just dont like straight ships or something stupid like that. i will defend hunter and willow from the owl house until i die. and also yuri 4 life dont get it twisted. BUT. shadow just doesnt fit with women in that way, he is gods strongest feminist soldier and i just dont think hed be attracted to them out of such deep respect he just wouldnt consider it. and you could easily argue hes aroace all together. however, with men specifically he doesnt have that deep relationship and respect that i explained prior. i feel it takes away no real meaning to pair him with a man. if anything, it could add a meaning onto his distrust and him learning to trust or something gay like that.

basically, i just enjoy seeing a male character so influenced by the girls around him and NOT wanting to bang them in any sense. i find that very important to me and i get it if you dont care but its still sweet to see.

finally tho.. im gonna piss people off here but the sonic fandom is very ship-brained and i need to put it into perspective for yall that both shadow and sonic would be 20 when amy would be 16. i get that she definitely isnt always younger than them, but she is in plenty of versions of herself and is intended to be half the time, so i just dont get how you can bring yourself to ship them. but maybe thats just me. ive always found that to be uncomfortable even when i was little watching sonic X. i just dont feel comfortable pairing most of the cast together, especially amy specifically due to even the most sliver of a question abt her age making me feel weird. its honestly kinda funny that, mostly, the only characters that are the same age to be shipped are all men. again, im not fujo-brained, its just a coincidence with the characters specifically that i think shipping the guys is genuinely more appropriate MOST of the time. (not always!)

idk i dont think anyone is terrible for shipping shadow with the girl characters but it does make me super uncomfortable and i just wanted to expand on that cuz i like talking here and seeing others thoughts or whatever. dont get it twisted tho, some of you ARE weirdos and i wont tolerate you. BUT. thats not rlly what this is about and its not all of you. please dont misunderstand

[squiddy-god]

Lmao last time I asked for Avenpaz but this is x reader so what about Aventurine x reader? Hehe thank you :3 (Desperate for some Aventurine stuff 🥰)

Yes you may, i'm going to do general hcs for this because thats what im feeling right now teehee- on a side note, aventurine but its the scene with hua cheng and xie lian with the dice rolling- there was just,,,so much tension in that scene please  

♡requests open♡

Cw : gn!reader, mentions of trauma and spoilers for his story and a bit of penacony, fluff. Both established and un established relationship hcs, a little bit of angst 

Ok so pre relationship i think that aventurine is actually quick to catch feelings but slow to realize them

Like off the bat he can tell how he feels in about someone, like or dislike, trust or not trust 

What is slow to build is how deep that runs, both his romantic feelings and his trust are gained slowly but eventually snowball and that is when he finally either realizes or admits it.

Something i never got in general is when people talk about like how {character} wouldn't trust you until xxx into relationship etc

But the thing is like, are y'all dating people you dont trust? Because especially as someone who is depressed/traumatized, I fully would have to trust someone to get into a relationship, and that trust does not reset to 0 because we got together like??- i promise i will tie this in trust me 

The other slight problem with aventurine pre relationship is that after he realizes/admits his feelings to himself he is taking that to his grave. He will casually flirt or maybe drop little hints, but he is content to never speak these feelings out loud to you, 

Half of this is a fear of forming intimate connections that he knows he's ultimately powerless to protect, he fears rejection and loss when it truly matters and this prevents him from ever really bringing himself to pursue you. The other half is a subconscious self sabotaging hatred. Despite his fronting he is an insecure and traumatized man who's become jaded by the cosmos. While he at this point would trust you implicitly he cant help the feeling that you won't, dont, and couldn't possibly like him and return his feelings. 

Reasonably he knows that he is an attractive man, a man with both wealth,power, and status, and yet he feels that you won't possibly want him. His self loathing even in his subconscious holds him back, giving a false sense of apathy towards your relationship status that outweighs the jealousy he feels. In truth the jealousy only serves to prove his point on how you don't return his feelings

There are scenarios that I think he would confess first if you don't beat him to the punch. 

The first is said jokingly, and yet there is not that sharp witted teasing edge or bite to his words, unexpectedly raw and genuine when he poses a simple “what if” question 

The second involves many different factors, maybe you catch him on a good day, maybe he sees the way you seem to look at him and in your eyes is the reflection of his own affections. Maybe you catch him on a bad day, and in his pit of despair he decides that it is at least worth the risk to gamble.

These are the moments he confesses to you, bated breath waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to lash out with laughter or anger but he is delighted when you return his feelings

Ok ok enough angst-

This man is a shameless flirt, he is romantic long before you every begin a relationship- you just take it as a joke, a bit that's silly between close friends 

After you manage to pry that confession out of him or you make the first move, he is shockingly quick to put a label on it, you are his romantic partner! His love, hes your lucky charm

Ok ok like i said before i really don't thing that aventurine is the type to be in an actual relationship with someone he A)doesn’t trust, or B) doesn’t love

So by the time you get in a relationship there is already a strong foundation of real trust, but he has already realized he is hopelessly in love. 

I will die on the hill that aventurine is a stage 100 clinger 

This is a clingy man to his core, he is sending you 50 messages a day

Good morning, good night, have you eaten? I love you, miss you, literally anything because he truly dose miss you 

Have you eaten? Yes? Good have a little treat +500 credits 

No? Wait there he's taking you to lunch- or +5000 credits 

I know everyone says it but he really does spoil you. Now the way he sees it genuinely isn't as like a bribe but both something that genuinely makes him happy and also he likes to make your life easier 

Seeing you happy, being able to spoil you with gifts and treats and money brings him genuine joy, and knowing that he is able to provide some relief from the harsh reality of life makes his a very merry man

As I said, clingy- he loves your time, being able to spend time with you and relax in your presence is truly heaven. 

Most of his missions aren't dangerous, just business so he enjoys taking you with him so that he can spend more time with you

He is touch starved for positive physical contact and affection 

Sit in his lap, let him sit in yours- honestly he isn't very picky as long as he gets to touch you 

If you thought his playful bestie flirting was bad you are gonna die, because he gets so much worse, now that he knows exactly what to say so that he can fluster you he grows ever bolder in his pursuit

No matter what he says his actions always follow his words, he shows he loves you with the way he sees you and treats you, in the way he seems to crave you like a thirsty man craves water or how a plant craves the warm sun, to breathe you in like air and love you tenderly 

Even if he is clumsy at love and intimacy he still puts in a profound sense of effort. 

The definition of if he wanted to he would. And he definitely wants to

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Addams Visiting

Author's note: I'm not going to let Cleopatra actually visit Hawkins. I'm pretty sure the Party would immediately kill her. Also I do have more ideas to play with in this world so I'm not saying it's over forever, just for now.

Summary: A storm is forecast for Hawkins so what better time for the Addams Family to come and visit

Continuing on from Ophelia's Son Smoking What Will Grow and Abigail

/\

There was a storm due. Steve had been debating since hearing about it whether he should invite everyone over for a sleepover or just prepare to drive through the storm fetching anyone who got upset. Robin and Eddie had already invited themselves over and had been laughing together about his worrying.

The knock at the door stopped the laughter and had them all glancing to the closet he’d stored the nail bat in. Steve chuckled at the realisation they’d all done it and went to answer the door without grabbing it.

“Hello, um, Aunt Morticia and everyone. Come in. I didn’t know you were visiting.” Steve blinked at the half dozen people stood on his doorstep, including the giant carrying all the suitcases.

“Good lad, Steve. We saw the weather forecast and simply had to come.” Gomez greeted, shaking his hand rapidly before he’d held it out. “Lurch will bring everything in but you’ve got some wonderfully ominous woods Wednesday was begging to explore on the drive through. Hope you don’t mind us arriving then going out for a walk immediately.”

“In a storm?” Eddie asked, sceptically.

Morticia beamed at him, “Of course. What better weather. And the moon is full too which is wonderful for the skin when it spears through.”

“We’ll prepare rooms for you all while you explore then.” Steve agreed easily, letting Lurch past.

He would definitely need more blankets if the party needed comfort through the storm now, but extra company wasn’t a bad thing at all.

/\

Morticia had been close to frowning as she took in the Harrington house, but forced a smile for Steve, saying, “Oh it’s got a Je ne sais quoi about it, charmingly but far too bland.”

“Tish! That’s French!” Gomez stumbled out of his chair ceasing her arm to start ravishing it.

After a moment of watching this Steve looked away a little awkwardly, “Um, I’ve set up spare rooms for you. Yours is top of the stairs, second to the right. If you want privacy or, you know.”

“Much obliged,” Gomez agreed, now carrying Morticia up the stairs, kissing the back of her neck when he could. “We’ll talk later.”

“Steve, remind me never to speak anything other than English around any and all Addams’s from now on.” Robin asked after they’d heard the door shut. Granmama’s insistence that they’re in love over some Russian made a lot more sense if that was Gomez’s reaction to French. She did not want to test if it applied to other people speaking foreign languages or not.

Steve glanced at her, smirking, “I might be suffocating you if you do. Just to avoid whatever love dust is.” He snickered to hear Eddie’s yelp as he’d been finishing off the rooms somehow.

“Glad we agree.” She nodded briskly, “Now how are we going to make the kids witness that so they’ll stop trying to set us up?”

“I’ve got some French cook books I think,” He said after a moment, deciding to ignore the possibility of it occurring that night or just because of the kids nosiness about his relatives now, "Could do a family dinner.”

“Perfect.”

In the reactions of his Aunt and Uncle Steve had momentarily forgotten that there were also two kids staying with him. Granted they’d both quickly gone to entertain themselves and each other but he was usually more alert over anyone younger given his kids likelihood to get into deadly situations.

He was reminded of them by Pugsley coming through frowning. “Cousin Steve, you don’t have any tunnels yet.”

“No Pugsley, I’ve not found any.” He answered mostly hoping he wasn’t about to be told about Upside Down tunnels again. Having it happen once with Dustin was beyond enough/

“We’ll start making them now.” Wednesday offered, climbing out of the closet, cuddling a headless doll and his nail-bat. “Any pipes to avoid?”

Steve reached to take the nail-bat back, sighing, “Try the office for house plans cause I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Robin shared a glance at him as the kids ran off. Neither had to speak to know they were both wondering if kids really were just looking for ways to die all the time and how neither of them had done that.

/\

The storm passed without any of the Party asking for comfort beyond radio confirmation everyone was okay and Steve now wished it was still going.

Gomez had declared after breakfast that it was time he got Steve acquainted with Zen Yogi and flipped into a headstand.

“That will hurt my flowers. Are there any other poses?” Steve asked, hand going to his hair and the sunflowers that he’d kept growing through the few experiments they’d done since the first one.

“Well, yes, but this is the most important one to master.” Gomez genially explained, somewhere he’d gotten a newspaper to read and had pulled a cigar out of his pocket, already lit somehow. “At least try it once. It’s wonderful for inner strength building.”

Eddie laughed, “Steve does need to work on his core muscles.”

“Nope, no more jokes like that.” Steve knelt, eyes narrowed as he worried over the flowers he was increasingly fond of. “If it damages my flowers, I’m stopping.”

He had done a few headstands before but not often so took a moment to get stable, during which Morticia clapped her hands together with a joyful noise, “Wonderful and if I may say, I’m thrilled to see such variety of plants growing. Ophelia always stayed so limited with daisies when there are much more delightful plants.”

Her warm tone had something in Steve relaxing, a worry they’d dislike or judge him over the flowers dissolving. “It’s become an experiment for the kids, testing what will grow. I’m pretty sure Dustin has theories over what should grow well in brains as well as what soil type my head it.”

“Gardeners?” Morticia sounded pleasantly surprised about the experiments. “Oh I wish I’d known. I’d have brought Cleopatra with us. She is a dear vine.”

“Maybe if you visit again you could bring her.” Steve decided not to question a plant being spoken about like a person. After all some of the ones growing on his head definitely felt like that to him now.

He came out of the headstand when the conversation seemed to have ended, immediately checking the hallway mirror to see if the plants and flowers were okay. Seeing they were he relaxed and moved to curl up between Robin and Eddie for the rest of the afternoon.

[carnallysm]

Sinful Kiss.

Beware of overall dark content such as mentions of: murder, etc. This work is +18, as it also contains smut, read at your own discretion!

— Summary: "Meeting Jennifer Jareau was the most significant event that ever happened in your otherwise monotone life.

There was simply something that inevitably drew you to her; perhaps it was her pale skin that made her ocean blue eyes further distinguished, or perhaps the spark of red in them you saw from time to time. She felt you with faint dread and a strange sense of excitement.

You were too bold to be by her side despite the rumors. Or just too stupid, you told yourself sometimes.

But her kisses were too sweet to deny."

"I cannot believe your impudence," Your mother scolded again and again while running around the room in a seemingly state of crisis. "Your idiocy!"

It was clear she hasn't taken well the notice of your secret, late escapes with Jennifer. And although it was annoying to keep hearing of it, could you blame her?

Jennifer Jareau has a mysterious aura around her. Everyone you asked about her, they would tell just how sweet she was. And oh, she definitely was, you could tell from first hand.

You met her at a party — one of the most boring ones you've attended, hosted by the newlyweds in town. Everyone had been invited and yet, no one there felt human. Like someone you could connect with.

That was until your gaze crossed with JJ's, and right away you were drawn to her. It was her who approached you first, however.

And you've been seeing each other since.

However, her diplomacy was as mysterious as the business she supposedly ran with her team. They were well-known from helping solving crimes, for how well they did their job, and how united they seemed to be.

"Mother—" Before you could even begin your actual sentence, she made you hush with a loud hiss, unable of letting you explain.

Not that you were going to truthfully admit to her what was your relationship with Jennifer, anyway.

"It's an order," With a vein showing on her neck due to how upset she was, your mother took a few steps towards you, her voice laced in almost pure despair for you to obey. "You're grounded, young lady. You'll not be attending the party tonight."

You were, in all honesty, already expecting that. But not protesting would seem weird, so you did protest for quite a while until your mother was a upset and fuming mess.

You weren't planning to stay at the party for long — you had other plans in mind.

࿏

Once night arrived, it was time for Jennifer to make her appearance as well.

With your mother gone for the party, you were free to go out on your own to your usual meeting spot with JJ.

It was far away, secluded from the town in a small space of an old park just before the entry to the woods. Getting there always took you a good half of an hour, but it was always worth it, even when your dresses some times got thorned at your legs length due to having to go through a couple of unkempt shrubberies and trees.

When you finally made your way there, you sat in the only more or less clean bench you could find at the park.

But it was getting late. Way too late, and you were beginning to think JJ wasn't going to show up this night. That something may have happened to her... As unlikely as that seemed. You knew she was able to handle herself.

Tired of staying still and doing nothing but wait, you stood up from the bench, about to go back home. That was until when some steps in, you tripped with a small rock on the ground.

It was all too fast.

In a second, you felt your feet leaving the ground as you began to fell down, and in just the next second, before you could impact, the sensation of a cold body next to yours showed up — someone holding your waist and pulling you up effortlessly, and when a low chuckle left from them, the surprise turned into dread and joy all at once.

"You should be more careful, beautiful lady," There it was, her usual speech manners as she helped you properly get back to stand in one piece. "Good thing I'm always watching you."

"I almost thought you weren't coming, JJ." Her last sentence sent a small shiver down my spine of mixed feelings as it was common by now.

She could feel my heartbeat increasing, I was sure, although Jennifer laughed lightly nonetheless once again, while moving her icy hands slowly across my hips towards my hands — JJ was now holding them with a tenderness proper of a gentleman, before reaching my left hand up and planting a soft kiss to my knuckles.

"You'll have to do more than that for me to forgive your tardiness," Despite those words coming from my mouth in a firm manner, my insides were already warm at that simple action from JJ.

"Of course, and I will," Jennifer didn't retort or complain in the slightest, instead locked her fingers with mine and, with a widening smile, pulled me closer to her. "Follow me, my lady."

And follow her you did, even with uncertainty flooding in you when she walked towards the woods.

You were really an idiot, you scolded yourself internally, but never ceased your walk behind JJ or pulled away from her.

࿏

When you reached the destination JJ had in mind, you were in front of a large castle that maintained a eerie surrounding, as if it was kept in its own functioning time different from the human one.

The roses around were all alive and well, some still covered in the snow from the previous nights, and from outside you could see how clean it was from in and out thanks to the wide windows.

You tried to ask about it, about who lived there, where this exactly was, but all questions died in your mouth when you entered the doors of the castle next to JJ, and the smell of blood and death immediately hit your senses, almost enough to make your head dizzy.

"It's fine, dear," JJ assured with her typical soft smile, that now was more and more suspicious given the dimly lit space and the strange situation. "Everyone feels the same once they get here. I did, too."

What that meant, you weren't sure. In fact, you had no idea, and so lost in your thoughts you were that you didn't realize after a few seconds that JJ started walking upstairs with you following close to her, almost as if she was dragging you along without the need of nothing but her will.

You came to find a more illuminated bedroom, and in there, you instantly felt JJ's lips on yours after days of being absent of her.

Your senses had already got used to the never-ending smell of blood in the air, and your head got now dizzy from Jennifer's kiss and gentle cup on your face — just before her hands made their way to your neck, applying the smallest of pressure in there.

"Tell me," The moment she broke the kiss, it left you panting slightly, feeling the sinfulness of it all only making you more excited. "Wouldn't you like to stay with me forever?"

It wasn't a confession; you had that long ago. It was a pleading for eternity by her side. To sacrifice whatever was still human of you to stay with her.

And would you? Of course you would.

Because Jennifer Jareau was the only person who ever understood how hard everything is for you. How life was way too difficult for what it was. Therefore, life as a creature of the night with her would always be your choice.

Now, and until the end, if that could ever come. You hoped, for the first time, that death couldn't reach you once converted so you could spend the rest of your days with Jennifer. Before her, you used to think how life had no meaning. How you were better off dead.

You were right. Better off dead and with the one and only who understands you, than alive and surrounded by fake faces and hidden rumors about everything.

So when you nodded, only a brief moment passed before you felt JJ's fangs piercing deep in your throat, your blood dripping down as she drank from it.

You felt death now more closely than even when you first put a foot inside the castle: energy leaving your body as much as your blood did, your heartbeat beating rapidly for a mere couple of seconds before coming to a full stop, your organs contracting, and your brain more clear than ever.

You reached with some difficulty your hands up to hold onto JJ's shoulders, feeling her fangs still deep into your throat at the same time her hands traveled down under your dress, tantalizingly bordering the edge of your, to your surprise, already soaked underwear.

The feeling of her sharp fangs carving deep into my flesh was as painful as it was infinitely pleasurable; a sensation of intense delightful agony, like a blade just made its way to my deep inside neck and was slowly sinking more and more.

How Jennifer's fingers came to slide under your underwear, rubbing your slick together while reaching for your clit in suave motions, it contrasted with the deep pain of her teeth now going out of your throat, as she licked the remnants of blood in there.

You were already more than wet, and deep your way into a blissful orgasm when JJ pinched your clit, adding more pain to your dying body and waking mind.

Even as your orgasm took all over you, making you squirm in Jennifer's arms, your mind has never been more sure of anything before.

"You're mine," Jennifer whispered as your eyes closed, your consciousness now drifting away. "Don't worry. We'll be together forever once you wake up, my beautiful lady."