#does this count as a fanfic?

[birdy-babe]

I like to theorize/headcanon that Stolas’ “do you know what I want?” Monologue will eventually be mirrored by Blitz. Like when he confesses or when their relationship is real and healthier.

So… I wrote a lil thing for it. Do with this what you will

The actual monologue by Stolas:

“Do you want to know what I want? I want to know what it’s like to not be alone. I want to be someone’s someone. I want to feel wanted, but like In a romantic way. Like I’m standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting ‘Harriet!don’t get on that train! It’s going to London and I cannot be without you!’ The point is I just want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want me. To want to see me, to hold me, to look at me and think: ‘you’re the only one I want. I desire to hold you and talk to you, never let you feel so…’ You! Why are you here? I don’t want you here, go home please! Let me not feel so sad”

My Headcanon mirror monologue:

“Look stolas, it took a while but I… I figured out what I want. you told me what you want- to not be alone. And… god dammit I think I want that too. I think I want you to be my ‘someone’ or whatever, and in some pansy-ass romantic way not just… for fucking. Like, shit- okay, like if you were at some dumb train station, and it was raining or whatever, and you were running off to some fucking placed called ‘Log-bog’-“

“London, my dear”

“Whatever- I’d… fuck Stolas. I’d tell you to stay. Maybe not at first. First I’d probably yell at you because I’m a mess and I don’t know how to handle my own emotions. And then I’d call you shitty names, really shitty ones that I don’t actually mean, all because I know you deserve better than me. So It wouldn’t be like your shitty rom-coms. But fuck it- the ending would be the same? I’d tell you not to go. Because fuck- I don’t really want to be without you”

“Blitz I-”

“No- don’t Interrupt- if you interrupt then I’ll start thinking about what all this means and I’ll change my mind and jump out your window or kill myself or something-“

“Go on”

“Fuck it- Stolas… you’re the only one I want. Okay? You make me want to do some gay shit like hold you- and I actually fucking like talking to you. So I want that- I want to talk to you. I never want to let you feel like that again. I was a coward at that stupid fucking party. I should have said it back then, but I hated myself for making you feel so sad. But fuck it- that’s why I’m here now. If you want me to be. I want you, Stolas”

[the-simple-creature]

Calling it RIGHT NOW: V and Lizzy are going to, bare minimum, interact. They are going to talk directly to each other.

BUT

HEAR ME OUT

J's fight with Lizzy, Thad and Khan (of which she is most likely winning) is interrupted by rumbling. A murder drone in eldritch form ERUPTS from the ground. Everybody is horrified, even J, ESPECIALLY J. While they're frozen in fear, the entity looks around with the cameras covering its "body". Those cameras seem to find what they're looking for.

Unfortunately, once all the cameras lock onto their target, we find out that that target is Lizzy. The mass lunges toward her to her screams.

It cuts to a black screen and silence. . .

Only to cut back to Lizzy slowly opening her eyes, is she... wrapped in something?

Yes, yes she is.

Wrapped in V, in a really, really disturbing hug.

Cue J saying something quippy and V retorting with a very long and angry "I've had a long fucking day" rant.

That my perfect episode 8

[ash-dark-desires]

Headcanon: they didn't hangout like, you know, the 3 of them very often, but Julia thought Ashley could warm up about their relationship if she felt invited and welcomed in their dynamic (although Julia enjoyed spending time with Ashley as much as washing a gigantic pile of dirty, crusty dishes). Ashley was a very lonely girl, and she only half-behaved when Andrew was around. Plus, she thought that Andrew seeing her sister having fun (or at least, be mildly ok) with them would give her bonus points. So, during the first weeks, they started inviting Ashley to the mall and stuff, once or twice.

It was a major disaster, like everything was when Ashley was involved. That brat monopolized Andrew's entire attention the moment she started acting up. It was either him telling her off for shouting and cursing like a sailor in the middle of the mall, or him trying to calm her and suffice her every need and whim, like a spoiled toddler.

"I'm bored"

"I want ice cream"

"Andy, give me 5 bucks for a cone"

"Why the fuck are we watching a rom com?! Splatterbrains 4 sounds cool, and you told me you wanted to watch it, Andy!"

"I think my migraine is fucking me up again"

"Fuck, I'm bored"

"Wait, I'm dizzy. I think I'm going to throw up"

One time she even went as far as pretending to trip and fall down the stairs.

As much as Julia swore the little bitch did it on purpose every time Andrew and her had a nice chat, or even tried to kiss, Andrew didn't seem to realize. He would never call on her BS, at least not directly or effectively, and Julia sure wouldn't be the one bringing it up. It didn't help that Julia desperately tried to... bond(? with Ashley, by showing her cute clothes that brought her interest or by trying to add her to the conversation, because it would always backfire by Ashley making herself the center of attention, and slowly but surely pushing Julia out of the conversation, just to make it about Andy and Leyley.

It was always about fucking Andy and Leyley.

But that was not the worst. Andrew tried to include Julia when that happened, and he really seemed to try to have some intimacy with her despite the situation, but there was a time she couldn't just win:

As much as it was an odyssey for Julia to touch Andrew, she would think they could finally enjoy some of their date as a couple, even if it was just touching hands, but then Ashley would just do it.

She didn't even have to ask for it, she would just hold his hand, lean for a hug.... and he would always correspond, even if visibly embarassed or half-annoyed, with affection. He would even kiss her on her head

Just like he did when Julia and him were alone and intimate.

Julia thought she was being paranoid the first time, but she ended up confirming mentally that, every time this happened, Ashley would, just for a second, side-eye her, even smirk a little maliciously, and with a clear intent every woman would be able to understand.

"He's mine, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Very soon after, Julia stopped asking Andrew to invite Ashley, and he seemed to read between the lines.

[hardliquorrr]

More on that 'Vampire Jay and silent bob' thought I had a few days ago.

It starts like this

Jay and Bob are out late one night, mostly just walking around looking for stuff to do. After a while of doing jack shit around town, they walk back to their place (I like to imagine they just live in an apartment together).

But upon walking through the front door the two spot a small black bat into the corner, just watching them and screeching. Jay makes silent bob take care of it cause he doesn't wanna get the thing tangled up in his hair.

Reluctantly, Silent Bob agrees and grabs a broom to try and force it out the open window that it had most likely gotten in from. Slight chaos ensues, bob is attempting to whack the still screeching bat down from the ceiling as Jay shouts at him from behind the couch.

When Silent bob actually hits the thing it swoops down at him and starts attacking his neck all over. Jay is now screaming and grabs the broom from bob, now attempting to get the bat off his mate.

The "battle" ends with Jay smacking the bat (and silent bob) so hard that it finally flies off bob and goes out the window. Also knocking Silent bob to the floor in the process.

At this point he is left on the floor, slightly disoriented from both, the creature tearing him up six-ways-to-sunday and Jay knocking the shit out of him with the broom. Jay helps him up and leads him to the bathroom, trying to disinfect Silent bob's bites and scratches to the best of his abilities. But it's too late. He's already infected.

I'll leave that there for now, let me know if this is interesting or not, I'll post the rest if so. Or just because i can

[mrsrookhunt]

Terrible BSD scenarios that won't leave my head:

You: Lovecraft, we should jump on that tiktok trend! I say 'Were you dropped on your head as a child!?' And you say, 'bold of you to assume I was ever held.' Got it?

Lovecraft: K.

*starts filming*

You: Were you dropped on your head as a child!?

Lovecraft: I was released into the ocean upon birth, where I watched my mother be devoured by predators at the hour of her death while my numerous breathen escaped. I never felt a mother's touch.

You: ...

[son-soup]

SAIKI K FANDOM! HEAR ME OUT REAL QUICK

An au where Saiki starts trying to learn more about his powers and where they come from. He starts speculating that his fathers side of the family (being that he doesn’t if ever interact with them *aka us as watchers not hearing anything about his paternal family*)  He asks his parents about them and his inquiries; His parents, who seem to be hiding something, deny knowing anything about it. He starts investigating himself, even finding probable locations of one of his paternal grandparents (I haven’t decided whom yet).

He starts getting closer with them and his powers. He is far more powerful than he thinks he is. he is much more than he knows. He’s even gotten to a point where he doesn’t hate them as much. 

But then, he’s asked to aid in tasks, very dangerous task, not dangerous for him, dangerous for everyone else. He’s asked to held destroy the world.

Does he consider it? Does he try to stop it? Does he succeed? 

[yesokayiknow]

they try, honestly they do, but the doctor isn't a stationary creature and never has been, especially not when they know there's something they could help with. which is to say, it takes a week of soft quiet life before he starts begging kate for a job. kate in turn withstands three weeks of the doctor's incessant begging and big puppy dog eyes while donna noble stands right behind him and mouths don't you fucking dare before she makes a counteroffer: he can work in a lab (the 'very far away from active duty' is implied) as long as he meets with unit's therapist.

and he refuses, of course, loudly and profusely, right up until donna very gently but very firmly tells him that it really could help, actually.

so. therapy. the doctor assumes it won't do anything. the unit therapist is no nonsense and unflinching and very very bright, and twenty minutes later the doctor sits outside the room hyperventilating while kate finishes paperwork and kindly doesn't mention the way he's all but curled into her.

the second session ends much like the first, and the third, and then the fourth he walks out with dry eyes and a tremulous smile. the fifth, kate calls donna and she takes him home and they drink hot chocolate and he doesn't start talking again until the next day. it takes him seven sessions to be able to stay in the room for the full hour; kate pats him on the back and then finally allows him to build a shield for her office as a reward. she sits outside the therapist's office every time he has a session, even though she has to have better things to do. they don't talk about it.

unit only has files on things the doctor's done on earth, and even then, only sometimes, which means that when the doctor talks about some things he just. edits, a little. talks about two weeks in a confession dial and a month in prison, because maybe then he doesn't have to think about the enormity of it all. and every single time he does this, the therapist looks at him and very kindly calls bullshit. it's weird, being known. it's different with donna. he is donna and donna is him, in ways they will probably never talk about. but he sits in that cluttered little office for an hour a week (sometimes two or three times, if he's doing particularly badly) and he feels seen.

after four months, there are memories he can touch without flinching, and people he can talk about without crying. he starts spending a couple of hours just sitting in the vortex, not because he's hiding or running but just because he likes the way it feels against his skin. he cooks dinner every other night and washes up when he doesn't. he takes out the bin every week even though it's rose's job, because he loves her. and he can say that now, and he doesn't think about her short lifespan or about all the other people they've loved and lost. he can say that and just mean it.

part of his contract is an agreement to never offer a trip to a member of unit unless it's actual life or death (the small chemical leak in the lab doesn't count; he takes shirley to new mars anyway) but he finds himself toying with the idea of asking for a session in the tardis. just once, just to see. the therapist looks at him and sees him and it is monstrous and they keep looking anyway and now the doctor can sit through a family dinner without wanting to tear his skin off and he doesn't know any other way to say thank you.

it's funny, almost, how quickly he grows attached to this person who picks through his hurts and rifles through his traumas and holds direct eye contact while doing so. the doctor talks about their deaths and their crimes and their cowardice and the therapist nods and asks him how he feels and it's. it's terrifying. it's beautiful. it's the worst thing he's ever ever been through, and the best. he feels ripped apart and put back together in a way that few people have ever been able to— huh.

after his sixty eighth session (he's unable to not keep count) the doctor walks outside to where kate is annotating a schematic and says, thoughtfully, they're the master in disguise, aren't they. and kate says oh 100% and please don't let them know that you know because they will definitely go to the second stage of whatever long con they've been hatching and they're too good at this for us to let them go

[lonesome-dreamsss]

his handprint may be burned into your skin but it's still the gentlest touch you've ever received.

[whoslinger]

The feeling of emptiness on your hand matches the one in your heart as you startle from a nightmare. Sitting up straight, you glance around you like you just dropped something valuable, but the sight before you immediately soothes those heartbreaking worries.

He's still there, an eye open, adjusting to the golden light that filtered through the trees you always came to nap under since you've met. You can feel his fingers sliding back to rest within yours and, by the sleepy look on his face, you can't tell if he did it out of habit or if he really meant to comfort you this time. Either way, it did comfort you. It always did.

"Hell," Arthur grunts, his free hand combing through his messy hair. "These sunrises have gone slower. Ah, we'll be fine." He pauses, taking in the sight of you beside him. "Yeah. I'll be fine, that's for sure."

[zephyrchama]

"What did Mammon do now?"

The greedy demon was in his underwear, hanging upside down from a rafter in the hallway. He tried to coerce you into letting him down as you walked by, but you knew better than to do so without consulting Lucifer.

"Gambling. The usual." Lucifer had a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair up while jotting something down at his desk.

"Mammon gambles every day," you pointed out. "What'd he really do?"

By the way Lucifer groaned, you knew it was something juicy. "I caught him pilfering one of my rarest records, a gift from Diavolo, to use as collateral in a bet. It's one-of-a-kind. I doubt he even knows what it is, but Mammon always has a knack for finding things of high value."

"His secret sixth sense," you agreed. "What'd you do with his clothes?"

"They make it harder to tie him up tightly. He has a slightly higher chance of wiggling free with clothes on, so I made him strip." Lucifer gestured, Mammon's clothes had been put on some kind of mannequin, tucked away in the space between two bookshelves.

You'd never seen it before. Your jaw dropped into the widest half-smile half-astonished expression possible. It had Mammon's hair and his goofy smile. Even a flashy golden earring. "What is that?"

You practically ran across the room to inspect it. It was dressed properly in Mammon's shirt and tie. There were a lot of seams, more than seemed necessary, perhaps from being repeatedly repaired over years of use. "Lucifer, this is adorable."

"It's a necessary tool for my sanity." He pushed the chair back, standing up to join you.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you a demonstration."

Lucifer comically wound up his closed fist. With ballistic force, he struck the figure right in its chest. It flopped back, then sprung back up wildly to receive a fistful of lighter blows from Lucifer.

"You made a Mammon punching bag? Really?" You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"I didn't make it, Mammon did."

Surprise of the day number two. "Mammon made this? Himself?"

To stop the wobbling, Lucifer grabbed the punching bag's tie, pulling it tight and then smoothing it out. "Cute, right? He thought it might make me go easy on future punishments. It's a very thoughtful gift from my little brother."

"Yeah, I didn't know he could sew. Huh." The two of you stood to admire it before Lucifer returned to his desk. You followed him. "Kind of reminds me of the doll Levi made of me."

Lucifer smiled. "Leviathan made you a doll, did he? How very kind."

"No, he made a doll of me."

Lucifer froze to process this information, frowning.

You continued, "I don't know where he usually keeps it, but I saw it under his desk one time. It's pretty big and detailed. I mentioned it once and offered to lend him a shirt for it, but he got really embarrassed and pushed me out. He's gotta take more pride in his work, it was really impressive."

"I see." Lucifer gritted his teeth. "You know, something I have to do just came up. Let's finish this conversation later." He was quietly seething as he escorted you to the door. Along the way he gave punching-bag Mammon a soft whack to the head.

You realized you forgot to ask if you could untie the real Mammon, but Lucifer had already marched down the hall in the direction of Leviathan's room. Rather than trying to catch up, you decided to go see how the Avatar of Greed was doing.

[killerpancakeburger]

Sleeping Beauty

Gif by @no-one-fights-alone

SUMMARY: The sleeping beauty is Soap hehe. You weren't supposed to fall asleep in the rec room, but you did. When you emerge, there's someone snoozing in your lap.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Fluff, first kiss, confessions, light/non graphic smut: dirty talk, friction, Clingy!Soap, Civilian!Reader, Smitten!Soap AND Smitten!Reader. Part of the Moaning and Blushing Soap Agenda.

WORDS COUNT: 1.8k

A/N: My thanks to the fanartists who draw Soap alseep, giving me inspiration :') been obsessed with this piece.

It was never your intention to doze off on the rec room's couch.

However, the combination of the coziness of the sofa, the bone-deep tiredness you accumulated over the work week, and the delicious warmth radiating from Soap's body eventually defeated you. The rowdy Sergeant  had always displayed a tactile kind of friendliness, but lately he was glued to you, downright clingy. 

Another person would have been irritated by this behavior quickly enough - his teammates from the 141 made it pretty clear, teasing him frequently about it, and jokingly pitying you. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind, at least outside of the bursts of heat that would overrun your face from time to time. Just when you thought you were used to him, one brush of his fingertips or one gaze from his piercing blue eyes would revive the fire in your blood. 

But just like with most things, you couldn’t say no to Johnny. Not to mention, you were seriously touch-starved; had been your whole life, to be honest. To have someone apparently addicted to the feel of your skin was like a heaven-sent gift.

This was how you ended up sitting way too close to him on the couch, thighs touching, his burly arm thrown carelessly on the backrest behind you, as the task force was enjoying some TV before heading to bed. Between vaguely paying attention to the movie, keeping up with the guys’ conversation, and fighting your own mind to forbid it from obsessing over how burning his leg felt against yours despite the barrier of your respective jeans, you were plenty busy. At least until you fell asleep without realizing.

Filled with confusion, you sluggishly blink at the half-light illuminating you. The lights have been switched off, but the TV provides enough brightness for you to figure out your surroundings. The room is silent and empty, save for the murmur emitted by the television, and your lap feels strangely heavy.

You lower your eyes to figure out that mystery, and immediately supress a yelp of surprise by pressing your hand against your mouth.

John Mactavish in the flesh is right there, sleeping like a baby. 

You can’t help but drink in this one-of-a-kind sight; you've never seen him asleep before. Never contemplated him looking so peaceful, so tranquil. There's an inherent vulnerability that comes with catching him sleeping. 

He's laying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed against your thigh, grabbing it with one hand. The way his cheek is squished by your leg is both funny and adorable. Low but regular snores escape his parted lips.

His mohawk is as ruffled as hair that short can be, and now that you’re observing it, you’re tempted to stroke it, to find out whether it is as soft as its owner. You ponder over that dilemma for a minute, biting your lip, before giving into temptation. Tentatively ruffling the top of it at first, terrified of waking him up, you gain in confidence as his hair proves to be delightfully smooth. You run your hand through the strands carefully, your touch as delicate as possible, removing some stray locks from his forehead as you go.

Eventually you stop, taking in the room around you, and thinking about how this situation can’t last. Soap really needs to reach his bed. You peek at him again.

There's a self-indulging part of you that very much desires to let him sleep, keep him in your lap and stare at him for hours. With how heavy he feels, you’re not sure you could get up even if you wanted to.

“Why'd ye stop?” he rasps, voice made hoarse by drowsiness, tone surprisingly whiny.

You barely stifle a screech, completely taken aback by his awakening.

He shoots you a look so indignant, you'd think you woke him up at 3 a.m with a bucket of ice-cold water. That, or he's a petulant child you’re waking up for school.

“Sorry…?”

Why you are apologizing, you don't even know. His expression somehow manages to make you feel guilty, so you lift your hand and caress his hair again. 

His eyes instantly close at the contact, like a cat. A pleased, satisfied “Mmmh” leaves him, as a deep rumble escapes his torso, like a purr. A blissful smile stretches his lips, sending a pang to your chest.

“Soap.”

“...”

“Johnny.”

“Mmh?”

“You need to get to your own bed.”

“Nooooo.”

He proceeds to turn his head and bury his face in your lap. Next thing you know, the hand squeezing your thigh releases you, only to sneak behind your back and grab your waist. The other slides under your legs to seize your knee.

You end up well and truly trapped in his grip.

“M great ‘ere.” he retorts, muffled by your body.

His hot breath sends tingles over your skin, and the motion of his lips against your pants provokes a throbbing between your thighs. You feel your cheeks’ temperature rise dangerously. The fact that you two are alone together is both a blessing and a curse. You’re going to give Gaz and Ghost a piece of your mind for abandoning you like that.

“Soap,” you sigh, trying your best to sound unaffected, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Can't I?” 

The cheekiness in his voice manages to be both irritating and arousing.

“John Mactavish,” you scold, attempting to sound menacing.

“Could spend tha whole night between yer thighs, bonnie.”

Yep, that's it, your entire face is on fire. He's never been so forward before; your chest feels like it's about to burst.

Unfortunately for Johnny, your annoyance exceeds your embarrassment. This explains why your next course of action is to take hold of his mohawk and yank.��

Face finally unsticking from you, he lets out a noise that's half a grunt, half a moan, and fully obscene.

Astounded, turned on, and just a bit sheepish, you stare at him in bewildered silence as he returns your gaze, cerulean eyes wide, cheekbones and the tips of his ears bright red.

You only meant to remove him from your lap - cross your heart and hope to die. And roughen him up a little in the process as payback, but that was counting on the fact that his pain tolerance must be way beyond the average mortal's.

As you stay frozen in place, he pounces. Next thing you know, he got you pinned against the backrest, hands on each side of your head, hovering over your lap.

“Can I kiss ye?”

His voice suddenly turned so husky that the question comes out more like a growl than anything else.

“W-what?” you stutter, convinced you heard him wrong.

“Can I kiss ye? Please?” he insists, pouting.

The “please” has the effect of a punch in your sternum.

“I… you… uh.. “

His face is way too close to yours, his gaze way too intense for you to do anything else but combust on the spot.

“We shouldn't”, you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

“Aye we can, fraternization is authorized between military and office personnel.”

That has the merit to make you look back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“How do you..?”

“Ah checked”, he asserts like it's evident.

“You're really putting me on the spot…”

You pivot your head to the right to relieve yourself from his piercing blue eyes. That doesn't seem to deter him at all, however, as he presses his forehead against your temple.

“Well, ye tend tae run away when ah flirt wi’ ye…”

His lips brush against your cheek as he talks.

“So really, this is all yer fault. Yankin’ mah hair like that-”

“MY fault!? You’re the clingy bastard who stuck his face into my lap-”

Outraged, you face him abruptly. He must have predicted your reaction because he backed away enough to avoid a headbutt.

“Very nice lap.”

The compliment leaves you unimpressed.

“Not really,” you correct automatically, your self-consciousness deeply ingrained.

He doesn't lose his smug smirk at that.

“Oh? Need me tae demonstrate?”

His hand leaves the backrest and slips between the sofa and your leg. He grabs your thigh and lifts it slightly, then slowly trails the tips of two fingers from the edge of your ass until the back of your knee, sending suggestive tickles all over your lower body.

You stare in anticipation, voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Bonnie? Ah'm not hearin’ a no, but ah'm not hearin’ a yes either-”

“Yes,” you murmur.

He tilts his head questioningly, smile teasing.

“Wha’ was that? Didn’t catch-”

“I said yes, you-,” you assert, riled again, loud enough that he cannot pretend to have missed it.

His mouth presses against yours almost immediately, so eager that your back hits the backrest. You close your eyes and interlace your fingers behind his neck.

His hands feel everywhere at once, like he can’t get enough of you. As for you, the accumulation of sensations threatens to overwhelm you, so you clench your hands into fists to hold on, one desperately clutching the other's wrist.

Lost in his embrace, you forget yourself. At the feeling of his muscular thigh between your legs, you grind against it thoughtlessly.

Soap reacts instantly, abandoning your lips for a moment, despite you chasing after his.

“Humpin’ my leg, ae? Ye naughty girl… ah can give ye so much better than mah leg.”

Regardless of his comment, he pushes back against your crotch.

“But if that's what ye want… ah'll give ye anythin’. Everythin’ ye want, baby. Ah'll be so good to ye, promise.”

The sweet vows falling from his filthy mouth makes you hang onto him tighter, as if you were trying to fusionate your two bodies.

“...Everything,” you reply softly after kissing him some more.

“Wha…?”

Taking Johnny by surprise is not something that you manage often. But oh, how the view is worth it.

He withdrews a bit, face flushed, mowhawk tousled, gaping, eyebrows lightly frowned in incomprehension.

“What if I want everything? All of you?” 

You cup his cheek affectionately. Your own boldness surprises you, but this whole situation feels like a dream anyway - maybe it is one -, so you might as well make the best of it. Soap has never been one to be stingy with compliments, so the least you can do is return the favor.

“You're amazing, Soap. You’re so brave, and smart, strong, selfless, and goodhearted, caring… and you have the prettiest eyes I've ever - mmh.”

He seemed pretty captivated by your words, listening religiously, until something snapped and he crushed his lips against yours.

After making you dizzy, he releases you, beaming. You remember hearing Price calling him “sunshine”. He's always been luminous, but now he's downright blinding.

“I love ye. IloveyeIloveyeIloveye.”

He chants fervently while covering your face in ardent kisses.

“Ye don't have tae say it back,” he adds hastily afterwards, like distressed he'd scare you away.

“Ye don't have tae say anythin. Ah just… can’t contain it anymore…”

“I love you too,” you cut in.

The words came out more easily than you expected. Almost naturally. It makes sense in a way - you’ve been enamored for a while after all.

You two seal your mutual confessions with an enthousiastic kiss.

BLOOPERS

[sugarcoatednightshade]

thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.

And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.

And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.

And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?

Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.

Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.

[lostreverb]

--

"looks like you need another dye job..." you say softly, examining kai's hair. his chestnut roots had begun to overtake his faded blue hair, the color almost resembling a light purple.

he had his face situated in your chest, arms fitted around your waist like he was afraid to let you go. to any outsider you'd look like a normal couple. and at one point you were. a time feeling so far, so different from the present chaos you weren't even sure if it was real.

kai's behavior was purely self-serving. you were just a stress ball, a toy for him to fidget with, holding off his descent into madness. none of this meant anything... at least to him.

but as you watched the cult leader, his eyes closed, expression tense even in his resting state, the impulse to soothe him grew. he was just so angry... all the time. he never really had the opportunity in life to be anything but.

"why d'you stop?..." kai muttered, the tone of his voice resembling a grunt.

broken out of your thoughts, your eyes focused onto the sight of your fingers tangled in his stringy locks. you had been unconsciously massaging his head, touching him without permission, for who knows how long.

"i.." you exhaled, fear taking the air out of your body. you were lost at what to do next. kai loved to play mind games. was he taunting you? about to punish you for crossing boundaries?

suddenly, kai's hand wrapped itself around your wrist firmly, sensing you pulling away. betraying the fear he had instilled into you, you took a breath and returned to running your fingers through his hair, seeing the wrinkles in his face slowly dissipate and his body relax against yours.

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath

[madaqueue]

thinking thoughts about vampire choso…

vampire!choso who’d get all flustered if you accidentally cut yourself while cooking dinner (which he always ate with you to be polite even though he didn’t need to) and has to step away because he's worried about his own self-control before coming back in to help you get cleaned up

vampire!choso who’d stay up all night gently stroking your hair under the moonlight because watching your chest gently rise and fall was a much more pleasant sight than the darkness of his eyelids as he pretended to sleep

vampire!choso who’d carry hand warmers with him because he wants you to be able to hold his hands without getting cold (or who would rest his palms on your neck and wrists to cool you down if you ever got too warm)

vampire!choso who’d always try to be gentle with you because he was afraid of hurting you, still struggling to understand the fragility that is being human, even after you assure him you’re stronger than he thinks

edit: i finally made this a series teehee

[tame-the-lion-writes]

an executioner's mercy

Some fanfic I started but never finished, based on the premise that Silent Hill's executioner had an accompanying spirit, meant to embody mercy. Kinda like the dynamic of life and death, Hades and Persephone type vibes.

Someone use this prompt cause I ain't ever gettin around to it no more

-

You don’t remember the life you had before Silent Hill. You weren’t sure if you had one.

What you could remember was waking up on the edge of the forest, ash falling from the sky, and the feeling of dry leaves beneath your feet. And the endless fog rolling out in every direction, turning you back to the near-empty town whenever you tried to leave.

Eventually, you learned that you weren’t alone. Other creatures roamed this place, especially when the darkness fell and coated everything in blood and rust. Twitching figures in scantily-clad nurse outfits, fleshy amalgamations of limbs sticking out at odd angles. At first, you darted away from them, pressing your back to walls and holding your breath in fear of discovery, but as you later realized, none of these beings seemed to mind your presence. Especially not him.

He was a man. Or, at least, he took the appearance of one.

He could have been human if it weren’t for the pyramid atop his stature, melding into the flesh of his neck, and if it weren’t for the snake-like tongue you saw occasionally emerging from beneath. He, who burdened himself with the steel blade he dragged behind him. He, who persistently stained himself with the blood of other “residents.” He, who once found you huddled idly in a corner, shielding yourself from the uncomfortable chill in the air, and who  acknowledged you with a simple nod before deciding to be at your side forever.

And he who now lingers, an unheard breath away.

It must be odd, you think to yourself—or at least, it would be odd to the nurses and otherwise if they could think—to see such a towering monster follow the footsteps of a mere girl. You had seen yourself in broken mirrors; you considered yourself nothing special. Human, at least in appearance, though the passivity of the creatures said otherwise. True humans had found themselves in Silent Hill after you, and you had bore witness to their slaughter, yet not a single nail had scratched you. If it weren’t for the Executioner, as you’d aptly dubbed him, you’d think you were a ghost twice over. Invisible to all—except perhaps the men the Executioner made bleed, and whom you had learned to comfort with steady heart and soothing whisper. You could not stop the butcher, and would not, but could offer peace.

And that brings us to now: the odd companionship between you and him.

Wandering about with nothing else to do but wait ‘til the next lamb to the slaughter.

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok