#except they’re totally correct

[pwurrz]

quincy, to yakumo: “why is your waist so small? for other men to grab it?”

yakumo: “………….”

yakumo: “yes.”

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[peachie-bumblebee]

FNAF SECURITY BREACH NSFW HEADCANONS

MAIN 4

MINORS DNI

getting back to my ROOTS with this one!! hope my community is still out there- the dlc has brought back my love for the game :) i haven’t posted SB content in a LONG time so a reminder- I ONLY WRITE FOR CHARACTERS WHO PASS THE JACK HARKNESS TEST. They are OF AGE OR ABOVE, have HUMAN OR ABOVE INTELLIGENCE, and can VERBALLY GIVE INFORMED CONSENT. The SB animatronics are canonically sentient. None of the past ones are. okay- back to the content :D

CW: ONE PREGNANCY MENTION, KINK RELATED T0YS, SEMI-PUBLIC MENTIONS, DACRIPHILIA

GLAMROCK FREDDY

lord have mercy…

he’s the most virgin coded out of all of them. i’m sorry.

but do I think he’s a TOTAL virgin? no.

there are FREAKS out there (me writing this and y’all reading this-) who would 1000% show up to the pizzaplex just tryna get a piece of the fazballs

SORRY

he’s the type to silently get off in his dressing room and then get all embarrassed about it like there’s someone there to judge him

he’s an actual sweetheart in the sheets. he’s so so nice about everything. as we go down the list this DECREASES.

don’t push him too fucking hard tho. if you’re one of the ones who read my old fic Competition, you remember.

his fingers vibrate.

and so does that dick.

he’d turn it on inside of you and listen to you gasp before putting a hand gently over your mouth and hushing you.

he seems a lot like a gasper. maybe the occasional curse word coming out, but mostly praises of how good it feels.

i know he is a messy cummer. i’m right and that’s final.

he’d be absolutely humiliated after the fact and go get a wet washcloth asap, but it’s a very shocking amount anyway.

pregnancy isn’t a concern, but he’s still wary about cumming inside for some reason. he’s the type to make sure it’s okay like 3 times before he does it.

okay i lowkey think he’d be into getting handcuffed. i don’t know what handcuffs could genuinely hold him, but if you brought them out he’d be (figuratively) SWEATING

i think his eyes roll back when he cums. and i’m correct. eat me.

he’s the lead member but he’s humble about it… except a few times in bed. then he lets it go to his head(s). just a bit. ;)

if he was in a relationship he’d have a thing about his partner dressed in his merch

switch! but the most vanilla out of everyone- but remember, not completely.

…he’d eat his cum out of you.

no he is NOT gonna call you superstar during sex leave me ALONEEE

GLAMROCK CHICA

my biggest hc for her will and will always be that she has a MASSIVE toy collection. she is a toy girl. do i know how she gets them? not exactly.

but I DO know that they’re all pink and white and sparkly!

that doesn’t mean it’s all vanilla toys though (respect to the vanilla community but it is not me :) )

she does own a hot pink flogger and she WILL happily use it on a groupie or her partner.

she’s such a tease. she’s such a fucking tease jsghskbnsjh

doesn’t matter if she’s domming or subbing (60/40 ratio)

she’s a TEASE

and she giggles during sex

her whole bubbly pink happy girl thing doesn’t stop

she’ll put you in a bubblegum pink sex swing and use a big ass vibrator on you while giggling and telling you how cute you look

i know she likes pulling on nipples I KNOW SHE DOES

for those who used to ask- no, she can’t give head with her beak. and she’s not taking it off. sun/moon can’t give sloppy either BUT THEY MAKE IT WORK!

AND SHE DOES TOO!

she can fuck up the guitar with her fingers, what else do you think they can do?

she’s the type to pull you into a side room, hush you, finger fuck you, then send you on your way with a hug

i know for a FACT SHE WEARS A STRAP!

yes it IS glitter. it is also 9 inches.

and if you want more, she has more ways to give you that.

she’s also the type to get you front row tickets and put a remote control vibe in you so she can watch you squirm right in front of her.

she’s also a praiser, but there’s a lot of false sympathy in there too.

food aftercare. she wants to eat 3 pizzas with you. food is her love language

ROXANNE WOLF

YOU BETTER BARK LIKE YOU WANT IT!

she’s a dom. she just is.

god I miss that fic I wrote.

she’s so fucking cocky in bed. it’d be insufferable if she wasn’t so hot and so good at sex.

if who she’s fucking is AFAB she’s EATING IT!!!! YOU CAN BET ON IT THAT SHE DOES MUNCH!

if they’re AMAB then you can expect her to lean them back on her chest and give them the most intense handjob of their life.

in general, the animatronics are stronger than people, so when they’re rough they’re still not going at their hardest. that would actually just kill you.

she’s a show-off. she’ll leave marks in very noticeable places on purpose so that everyone knows that you’re getting fucked by THE Roxanne Wolf

she’s a hair puller. I just know she likes to wrap her claws up in it and pull.

don’t fucking pull hers though, she doesn’t like that shit.

yeah her tail wags when you eat her out, what about it? don’t point that shit out, it’s embarrassing to her.

she curses so much during sex.

the strap is purple and THICK. if you want more then she’ll just hit up Chica for a new one. Chica is more than happy to help. and more than happy to watch.

she’s only the jealous type if its some rando loser. THEN she’ll fuck the living shit out of you while telling you how she’s the best and making you repeat it back to her.

if it’s Monty or Chica? If you’d be into it too, then yeah, she’ll share.

…Freddy is more of a hard sell, but it’s not a hard no.

it’s more of a “Yeah yeah yeah but why do you wanna fuck the dumbass bear? Why him? Monty’s got a bigger one, I’ll tell you that.”

yeah but roxy baby his doesn’t vibrate

she comes off a winning high after a particularly close race, she’s going to go feral on you

with those eyes of hers, she can find you wherever you go. so if she’s randomly in the mood and her partner is there, even halfway across the pizzaplex, she’s on her way to pull you into her room and take some “private time.”

MONTGOMERY GATOR

hhhhhhooOOOHHH BOY

y’all remember the start of SB where he’s fucking up his room?

prepare to be destroyed HSGDHJSGBDNH

degrades. degrades the fuck out of you. it’s a toss up between Roxy and Monty who’s the more cocky, but he’s certainly meaner.

LONG ASS DICK. IT’S HUGE WITH ALL SORTS OF BUMPS AND RIDGES AND SHIT.

head pusher IF you’re okay with it. consent is mandatory.

he’d grab all his partner’s hair if they had any to grab, even just an INCH and go ham.

his long ass dick matches his long fucking tongue.

loves giving lethal backshots LOOOOOOOORD HAAAAAAAAVVVEEEE MEEERCYYYYYY

he’s not only breaking the bed, it’s straight up sawdust. idk how his partners live but they certainly live happily after.

as cocky as he is, he’s not exactly a selfish lover by any means. yeah, he’ll edge you, but he also likes to get his partner real sloppy if you catch my drift.

he aims to make you cry from pleasure. it’s straight up his goal.

i just know he knows EXACTLY where all the right spots are. you don’t even gotta tell him, inside or outside, no matter personal preference, he can always pinpoint his partner’s sweet spots

and then he proceeds to abuse the fuck out of that knowledge

he gets so jealous over Freddy, it’s insane

he sees his partner in his merch, he’s ripping it to shreds.

Roxy is less of a threat. That can be more of a collaborative effort.

he honestly doesn’t know how much of a freak in the sheets Chica is. If he had a threesome with her and she whipped out her chest of fun he’d be like “DAMN BITCH WHERE’D YOU GET ALL THOSE” and she’d be like “^-^ wanna see my buttplug collection? :>” LMFAOOO

GROANER. he GROANS LIKE CRAZY

also a bit of a growl but NOT in the cringe tiktok way don’t worry

HOPE YALL ENJOYED!!! I really hope I can start to find my old community with this :)

[stevethehairington]

Eddie doesn’t tell the Corroded Coffin guys about his relationship with Steve. Not at first.

He knows they wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s got a boyfriend; they’re cool like that. But telling them who his boyfriend is? They're cool enough to accept Eddie being gay, but dating a jock? Dating Steve Harrington? Eddie isn’t so sure how they’d react to that. 

So he keeps that little detail to himself.

Not too carefully, though, as it turns out.

Eddie shows up to Wednesday band practice with a new ring on. It’s big, just like most of his rings are, but it’s a whole different breed of gaudy, with a huge emerald gem right in the center and thick lettering circling it and embossed onto the sides.

Gareth is the first one to clock it for what it is.

They finished up their first run through of their latest track (something new about a totally badass warrior who's beaten and battered and bruised, but won't let that stop him from throwing himself intro the fray) that Eddie just finished penning the lyrics for, then broke for a quick break and some water. Eddie stands across from Gareth, right hand wrapped around a water bottle, new ring on display. Gareth is close enough that he can make out some of the smaller details now — a paw print, the word ‘Hawkins’ right above it — and then it clicks.

“Dude,” he says, smacking his hand into Eddie’s arm. “You got a class ring? Since fucking when?”

Eddie’s face seems to go through several emotions all at once — confusion, surprise, a brief flicker of panic. It smooths over pretty fast after that, settling into something much more controlled, something much more collected after.

He switches the bottle to his left hand and flattens his right in the air, admiring the ring for a moment. “Oh, this?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, flashing it towards Gareth and the boys (who have all perked up in interest and shuffled closer), too fast for any of them to really get a good look at it.

“Holy shit, that is a class ring, what the fuck, Eddie?” Archie asks, face twisting up.

Jeff looks surprised too, squinting at Eddie’s hand, curiosity painted across his features.

Eddie doesn’t deign any of them with an answer, just sort of shrugs and drops the water bottle, replacing it with his guitar. He twists at the tuning keys on the head of his baby, ignoring it as Gareth and Archie erupt into a flurried back and forth of reasons why in the hell Eddie would be wearing one of those monstrosities.

Jeff is the only one to jump to his defense. “It’s weird, sure, but, like, is it really that bad? I mean, he spent six years there, so what if he wants to, like, commemorate it or something?”

Gareth and Archie turn twin what the fuck looks on Jeff, who just shrugs.

He doesn’t look too convinced of his own argument either — which is pretty merited. Eddie getting a class ring goes against, like, everything he stands for. He’s pretty sure he’s ranted about how stupid class rings are. How pointless they are. Plus, those suckers are expensive as fuck and Eddie has plenty of other, more important things to put that money towards. All things considered, they have every reason to be suspicious of it.

They all turn back towards Eddie, looking for confirmation or contradiction, but Eddie doesn’t offer them either.

He just gives the ring another short look, shrugs, and says, “So are we gonna get back to playing or what?”

And that’s that.

Except it isn’t.

Because at some point Eddie must have been playing with the ring, and he must have slipped it off, must have spun it around, must have stuck it back on his finger with the other side exposed. The side with the “1985” on full display. Big and bold and hard to miss.

And, of course, they notice that.

“Does that say ‘1985’?” Gareth asks, eyebrows pulled together and mouth curved down into a confused frown.

“‘85? Eddie, dude, isn’t that the year that you were supposed to graduate the first time?” Archie asks, just as baffled.

Jeff elbows him. “No, that was ‘84,” he corrects. “But he didn’t graduate in ‘85 either.”

“So why the fuck do you have a class of 1985 ring then?” Gareth questions. It’s hard for him to look menacing with that floppy hair of his, but he crosses his arms over his chest and fixes demanding eyes on Eddie anyways.

Eddie, once again, does not answer any questions. In fact, the only acknowledgement he does give them is a very casual, very nonplussed “Oh? Does it?” when they keep pointing out that the ring boasts “1985” instead of “1986”.

It’s pretty amusing, actually, listening to them trying to figure it out. But none of them come close to the truth. And Eddie certainly isn’t going to be the one to hand that over to them.

It goes on like this for a few more practices. The mystery of who Eddie’s class ring actually belongs to (because the boys have decided that there is no way it actually is Eddie’s. Not with the 1985.) continues to plague Corroded Coffin — before practice starts, during their breaks, in the aftermath of their jam sessions.

Eddie doesn’t stop wearing the ring, despite it, though. And he always finds a way to change the subject when Gareth, Jeff, and Archie bring it up, or he gives them stupid nonanswers instead that make them huff and puff.

It all comes to a head one day when practice is getting close to ending and a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up outside of Gareth’s garage. The engine cuts, and then out pops none other than Steve goddamn Harrington himself. 

The boys are vaguely aware that Eddie is on friendly terms with Steve, but they don’t know the full extent of it. They don’t know how deep it actually runs. And they certainly don’t know that they’ve been dating for the better part of four months now.

It’s almost funny how they didn’t even think to make that connection.

Until now.

Until Steve Harrington saunters his way up Gareth’s driveway and stops in the mouth of the garage, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head bobbing along like he’s actually enjoying the noise they’re making. There’s a certain look on his face, in his eyes — something pleased, something contented, something unbearably soft, as he watches them jamming out. As he watches Eddie jamming out.

They’re in the middle of a song, and everyone’s sort of lost in their instruments, lost in the music — except for Gareth. He spots Steve first. He sees that look on his face, follows his eyes to find them glued to Eddie. Observes for a few seconds, and watches as Steve’s stare doesn’t waver once.

He only has eyes for Eddie.

And that’s when it clicks.

Gareth’s hands stop moving, the drumbeat cutting off as his sticks just hover and he stares, slack-jawed. 

It takes a couple of seconds for the others to notice that Gareth stopped playing, and when they do they stop too and turn on him.

“Gareth, the fuck, dude?” Archie says, throwing his arms out.

“Everything good, man?” Jeff asks.

“Class of ‘85,” Gareth says, dumbfounded, finally pulling his eyes away from Steve to fix them on Eddie, who freezes in the middle of making googly eyes at Steve and slowly turns to meet Gareth's gaze. "No fucking way."

Eddie offers Gareth a sheepish, lopsided smile and a one shouldered shrug. "Surprise?"

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Oral Support - Ghost x Reader [M]

Summary: A disastrous brush with auto-correct leads you down a path you had only ever dreamed of walking.

Notes: 18+, Implications of smut, actual smut, graphic descriptions of smut, no use of pronouns for Reader except for ‘you’, fluffy towards the end of both parts (separated by - ), Reader over-thinks (don’t we all?), oral (male receiving), a bit of angst at the beginning of part 2 (Parts 1 and 2 separated by the - ), mentions of pain, graphic description of smut, fluff at the end, (Y/N) is a little awkward at first, (Y/N) is inexperienced, (Y/N) also gets anxious, nervous knuckle cracking, pet name used.

Wordcount: 4,897 words

The fact that you’d managed to get as close to Ghost as you had was in itself miraculous. Well, ‘close’ being an exaggeration; immediate acquaintances, at the least. Friends, at the most. Regardless, it had come with its many obstacles.

Such as now, after your inquiry about Ghost’s day, which you’d hoped to be benign, which was met with a simple: Alright.

Oh god, the dreaded full stop.

Your heart spiked, your back was up. Your micro-analysis began.

He doesn’t usually end sentences with a full stop - he thinks they’re a waste of time. Is he mad at me? Did someone steal his phone and impersonate him? Is he okay?-

You heaved a sigh. Told yourself to calm down.

It’s fine, you’re fine, he’s fine. Stop over-thinking everything.

But alas, that is what we are all victims to when in the throws of a crush.

The word had crossed your mind every now and again, dancing between your synapses like a demon in a church. It made you cringe, made you feel juvenile. Inferior. But you couldn’t deny it. In spite of its childish connotations, it was what you were experiencing.

You had a crush on Ghost.

Absolutely ludicrous is what you’d called it when you were alone. Totally and unequivocally baseless. You hadn’t even seen his face, nor did you know his name. You just knew that you liked him. And you’d hoped that somehow, somewhen, he’d grow to tolerate you, too. And that hope was being steadily fed by Soap, who’d reassured you during your sleep-deprived, delirious ramblings (of which you remember little) that “Getting Ghost’s number is a good sign,” and that it meant he “at the very least acknowledges you.”

Better than nothing,you’d convinced yourself. Better to be acquaintances than strangers.

You knew not to press the issue. You knew when to stop. But you just wanted to make extra, doubly sure.

Positive?

You hoped he’d understood your message. Hoped it hadn’t been too vague. Your phone pinged. He always managed to get back to you quick enough, you’d noted - something Soap had brought to your attention, too.

Yeah.

Okay, you told yourself. Enough stress. Time for bed.

You were about to put your phone down. Just about to. Then, a brilliant idea flashed in your mind.

You opened the message board again and began typing.

I’m here for moral support if you want it

Perfect, you told yourself. Not pressuring him to open up but making yourself available to him. Brilliant.

You sent the message, put the phone away, and turned in.

But something crossed your mind just as sleep caught up with you. It was a nagging feeling, the same twinge of anxiety one gets when they wonder if they’ve locked their front door or taken their chicken out to defrost overnight.

It made you uncomfortable. You shifted, hoping a change of position would make it go away.

It didn’t.

You turned to lay on your back, huffed, and looked up at the ceiling, as if the answer lay there.

What is it? you asked yourself. What could it possibly be?

You ran through your day, brushing over everything you’d done, anything you may have missed. Right up until you turned over on your side and tried to get some sleep.

And then it came to you. An intrusive thought, a message from God, a monster lunging out from a closet. It held your heart in its icy grip. Sitting bolt upright, you tore your phone from your nightstand and opened your message board with Ghost.

I’m here for oral support if you want it

How?! you screamed within. How could I have misspelled-

Auto-correct. Of course.

Even worse, Ghost had read it and said nothing.

You were on damage control immediately, putting all PR managers everywhere to shame.

*moral support

I meant moral support.

The full stop and calmness with which you communicated belied the storm that brewed in your mind. You tried to counteract it, asking yourself what the worst he could think or do was. That made it worse, your brain taking you down dark alleys and avenues of a lonely future, forcing you to shake hands with your own doom.

Eyes bleary with sleep and panic, you scarcely noticed that Ghost had replied, the only indication being your phone vibrating.

You scoured the screen, breaking your anxious haze and analysing his message.

Is that offer revoked?

The image - the intrusive image- of the implication of Ghost’s message flashed behind your eyes, blinding you. Your phone dropped onto your covers.

You stifled a scream.

What do I do? you thought. Who do I call?

You considered your best friend, but that was’t an option. Asleep, most likely. It was 2 AM. Their answer wouldn’t come quick enough.

Okay, Y/N, you can do this! Channel the energy of someone who knows what they’re doing.

You began typing.

Not if you want it ;-)

You’d accidentally channeled the energy of someone who had a good track record of flirting. Or, at least, you hoped.

Ghost began typing. Your heart pounded.

I’ll be back in a few days. Be ready for me.

Your heart seized. You screamed.

It worked! It’d actually worked! Auto-correct and your aimless flirting had done it!

Then, the excitement snapped off, a twig from a tree. Realisation dawned on you.

You only had a few days to perfect your technique. Now you really did need to call your best friend. I’ll do it tomorrow, you told yourself, and resisting the urge to message Ghost a plethora of excited nonsense, you took a shaky breath and lowered your phone to your side.

Somewhere amongst your newfound, delighted anxiety lay excitement, the hope that this accident, this interaction, could lead to something more. You smiled widely, the scene of you and Ghost, unmasked, on a date playing behind your eyelids, a projection of the future.

-

For lack of a better term, Ghost had ghosted you. After your interaction days before, you’d seen (or heard) neither hide nor hair of him; not from the boys, and certainly not from Ghost himself. Thus, here you were, knee bouncing as you perched on the edge of your sofa, mind racing with the ever-looming threat of rejection.

Maybe he was joking, you thought. Maybe he saw it as a throwaway flirtation and nothing more, maybe- maybe-

You didn’t want to cry. You really, really didn’t want to, but there was something about the possibility, the mere indication, of rejection - silent rejection at that - that made you want to choke up and shed a tear.

Get over yourself, it’s not like you had a chance anyway.

A cruel smile crossed your face. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing lost. Or gained.

With creaking knees, you stood, a shred of a laugh at your absurd attempts to impress Ghost slithering up your throat. The taste of mint slathered on your tongue reminded you of the nigh ritualistic self-care you’d inflicted on yourself these last few days. All just for him.

Sighing, you glanced about your spotless, soulless apartment, any indication of idiosyncrasy shoved under your bed or into the boiler cupboard. After inviting your friend round for a pity party - the same friend who had rigorously instructed you on blowjob etiquette - this place would sooner resemble the remains of a celebrity blowout than the quaint little apartment you called home.

You hummed, hoping the impromptu song would distract you from the growing desire to cry. Wallow, one might say.

A reality-piercing rapping at your door tore you from your train of thought. You jumped, almost throwing up your own skeleton. Your heart thudded in your chest, a steadily unsteady rhythm of anxiety coursing through you like acid.

Silence for a moment. Then: “(Y/N)?”

Your knees almost buckled beneath the weight of your incredulity. THe voice was low, raspy, distinctly British, the North-Western Manchester industrialism evident within it. Almost unbelievable.

Your chest erupted with razor-edged butterflies, nerves frying, heart thrumming, harp strings played by a manic god.

“Uh- y-yeah?” you called, peering round the living room door and down the hallway, the front door just in sight. You didn’t want to sound as if the voice was too familiar to you, just in case it wasn’t. In case it wasn’t Ghost.

“You gonna let me in or what?”

You didn’t move for a second, and then moved all at once. “‘Course, coming!” Your voice wavered as you hurried down the hall and to the door. Reaching it, you breathed deeply, quietly, aware of how thin the walls were, straightened out your shirt, and unlocked the door.

And there he stood.

Very little light made it past him, his hulking form taking up all the room that the doorway could spare him, broad and unrelenting. His mask made him appear as a reaper, eyes dark as the rest of his attire. With him he carried a canvas bag. You swallowed thickly.

“H-ey,” you said lightly, voice strained, cracking. You coughed, tried again. “Hey,” you repeated, normally, this time, and leaned against the doorframe. Ghost only looked down at you, emotions and intentions unknown.

Well, mostly unknown. No doubt the message - the silent promise - you’d given him flashed in his mind as it flashed in yours, weaving itself into the fabric of your psychology as any tangible crush did.

“Did it take you long to get here?” Small talk. Well done, (Y/N). You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the hammering of your heart, making the fabric of your shirt jump as it thudded against your chest.

“Depends.” was all Ghost said. He peered over your shoulder. “You alone?” The question made something in you stir. The implication sat heavy in your stomach. It promised something, wanting to crack and bloom. You nodded, not trusting your voice, fighting the smile blistering onto your lips.“Right, then.” Ghost rasped. He looked at you. You looked at him. You both waited for the other to do something. You realised it was your turn.“Oh!” you exclaimed, folding out of Ghost’s path. “Come in, make yourself comfortable-”

Ghost breezed past you, not one for formalities. You swallowed and shut the door behind him. You begged and pleaded with any deity available that you hadn’t already annoyed him.He found the living room and placed his bag down, its contents heavy, evidenced by the thunk it made as it hit the carpet. He shed his gloves soon after, throwing them atop the bag.

You followed behind, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles. Your breathing was shallow and you felt warm all over, the beginnings of sweat forming under your armpits.

Ghost looked around; you could only assume he was familiarising himself with the environment. You coughed and gestured to the sofa, at which point Ghost turned and looked back at you.

“Take a seat,” you said, more requested, actually. Ghost gave a light nod and sat down, making the sofa bow in the centre beneath his weight. He gave a sigh, shut his eyes, and said nothing. He seemed to be comfortable, and you wondered if he’d come straight here from his latest mission. My head game needs to be immaculate to justify him coming all the way from God-knows-where to my apartment, you panicked.

You had the idea of prolonging said demonstration of said head game by offering Ghost tea, a British favourite, which he declined. You offered him water, biscuits, an omelette, a pair of fluffy socks, a film; he declined them all.

“I’ll tell you what I do want, though,” Ghost rasped, looking at you with undivided attention.

You wanted to be sick. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do this, you were simply mortified of the embarrassment that would come with not knowing how to walk the walk after talking the talk. You hoped you could buy yourself just a few more minutes to go over the needlessly explicit notes your friend had given you on this interaction. 

You didn’t want to play dumb, nor did you mean to. You just wanted more time. “What?” you said, nigh shaking with uncertainty.

Ghost beckoned you and, with nowhere else to run, you came to him, standing just out of reach of his knees. He took your wrist and pulled you closer. “On your knees,” he said. His voice felt heavier, either because of the mask or…something else.

Your heart jumped up your throat. You swallowed it.

And now, on buckling legs, you lowered yourself to the floor, pants keeping your knees from being carpet-burned. You kept your breathing quiet, trying to deepen it. Your nerves were no less frazzled.

Ghost lifted his hips from the sofa and unbuckled his belt. He withdrew himself from his pants before you could comprehend or prepare yourself for what was happening.

“Woah!” you exclaimed. Then, you felt your heart and stomach sink. I did not just say that out loud, you begged. Oh my god, no, please.

Ghost’s head tilted as he continued looking down at you, holding his cock in his hand. Given how large the rest of him was, this shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, you were impressed; especially considering he was already half-hard. Something in you felt tight and hot.

“Woah?” he said. You could practically feel him raising an eyebrow beneath his mask. “That impressive, is it?”

You found yourself nodding. You were past the initial point of shame until you encountered the next; your own inexperience. Ghost let out a huff of air, likely a laugh or one of its diluted associates.

“Well, I’m honoured,” he said. There was jest in his tone, and for that you were grateful. You smiled, trying to combat the growing fear overtaking you. Not as honoured as I, you wanted to say, but it felt far too mediaeval and, dare you say, cringe, for this situation. You just nodded. Again

And here you were, staring at the dick of the man who had become the most recent and potent object of your affections. With absolutely no inclination as to what to do next. Your hands were folded in your lap. You squoze them together, trying to disperse some of your nervous energy.

With every second that passed you could feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into you. You knew the bare basics, and that was all anyone could ask of you. Just put it in your mouth and get it over with, you thought. Though, not that you didn’t want to take your time; you would have loved to given that you knew how to make Ghost feel good. But right now, your main concern was trying not to destroy any semblance of respect Ghost may have accrued for you by giving the most terrible head of his life.

All while thinking this, you hadn’t moved, eyes glazed over. Ghost’s baritone came as a startling distraction.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he said. There was mild concern laced somewhere in his voice.

“Oh, no! Totally fine!” you said. Your voice cracked and you winced internally.

“You sure?”

You nodded, smiling through the anguish. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just…been a while since I’ve seen…” you didn’t want to make eye contact with it again; it felt wrong to do so without doing something to it. 

“How long?” The rounded edges of his accent and refusal to pronounce a handful of letters felt oddly endearing to you in this moment. Or perhaps you were clutching at straws, anything else to pay attention to aside from the growing tension in the room.

“Uh…” you pretended to count how long ago your last encounter was, already knowing the answer. “About…I don’t know, doesn't matter - just a long time,” you smiled, your signature at the end of a disaster of a sentence.

Ghost said nothing. Did nothing. He leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, and stared into you. His mask consumed your vision. You knew you couldn’t look anywhere else, frozen.

“(Y/N)...” he began, sighing lightly. “Do you actually wanna do this?”

“Yeah! I mean, I want to, I really want to! It’s just that…” You wanted to swallow your confession, hide it where nobody would ever find it. Ghost’s head tilted as he looked at you. 

“But what?” he said. His voice held no urgency, no pressure, but something…sincere. Curiosity? Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with your sort.“I…” You sighed. The jig was up. Time to come clean.

“I’ve never actually done this before.” You hammered the final nail in your coffin. “Ever.” Your gaze dropped and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see his disappointment. You hid, pointing your face to the floor, your hands on your thighs. You heard Ghost shift.

“Well then, why didn’t you say so?” You felt a hand slide around the back of your head. You jumped, gaze snapping to meet Ghost’s. There was a glimmer in his eye. “I’ll guide you. Just keep your teeth out the way and suck.” His eyes were darker than they had been before. Even without the mask, you felt that he would look just the same.

You nodded, mouth ajar with shock. Ghost took full advantage by bringing your head down to his thighs and prying your mouth open with the tip of his cock. You jumped, he held you in place. You could feel how many hours he’d put into his strength by his firm grip in your hair; not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that it could.

And that power made you warm and wet in places that typically couldn’t be provoked by real, physical men. The many figures and books you’d swept under both the proverbial and physical rug were evidence of this.

Taking in the bulbous tip, you recalled Ghost’s explicit instructions to keep your teeth out of the way and all but unhinged your jaw, trying to accommodate the first of many inches. With the restraint of a god, Ghost only watched, waiting for you to accustom yourself to his girth before continuing.

“Y’alright, Precious?” he said, squeezing your hair, prompting an answer. You hummed around him, making his eyes twitch and the rest of him harden. “Now,” he breathed, “be good for me. Keep goin’,”

You couldn’t nod, you couldn’t do anything aside from what he’d instructed you. And so, you descended. You inhaled another inch or two, swallowing when you felt your saliva collecting in your mouth. As soon as you did, Ghost jutted by a fraction. You decided to try something you remembered teaching yourself.

Your tongue gingerly danced along the edge of his shaft, trying to find the tip before it was too far down the back of your throat even for light to reach it. Ghost gave a light groan as your tongue glossed over the veins of his cock, stopping only upon feeling a dip in the head. Then, with little mercy or idea of what would happen, you stroked it with your tongue, continually, back and forth, in a sustainable rhythm that eased you into a comfortable monotony.

You closed your eyes, mapping out his member in your mind’s eye, a new, salt-like taste slick on your tongue as you went. Ghost’s light groaning turned into a deeper grunt, making your stomach feel tight. You recognised this new taste as pre-cum, something you’d thought was a myth until just now.

It excited you to think that you were the one making Ghost feel this way. You hazarded a glance at said man, and upon doing so, found him looking down at you through heavy eyes. You felt seen, and suddenly very naked. No, exposed. You resisted the flight response to withdraw.

Ghost’s hand rested on the back of your head, and, ever so slightly, you felt him pushing on it. “Go on,” he said through deepening breaths. “Take more of me.”

You obeyed, and, swallowing the collection of pre-cum and saliva collecting in your maw, urged yourself to take another inch or two. You gagged, the tip almost hitting the back of your throat. You could feel it practically grazing the soft, wet skin of your throat.

“S’alright, take your time,” he said, his chest appearing to rise and bay like the tide, deep and consistent.

You took a moment to familiarise yourself, to acquaint yourself with his size, before resuming. You knew you couldn’t take much more at this rate, and you didn’t want to open your eyes to see how much was left of him. Though, judging by the warmth radiating against your face and the tickling sensation of hair against your nose, you figured not too much more.

Your previous anxieties had washed away with Ghost’s soft guidance, leaving you to enjoy the sound of ghost’s groan-laced breaths and the barely restrained juts of his hips as his body urged you to take more.

You began bobbing your head, withdrawing your mouth before impaling it back onto Ghost’s length, all the while his breaths became more laboured, laced with groans and an odd moan. Your hands came to rest atop his knees, holding onto him. You yourself felt a wetness developing between your legs, though you tried not to think about it. A tightness formed in your core, jolting you with flashes of rapture.

You sucked hard, coaxing a faint ‘Ah' from Ghost, followed by the purr in his chest. Guttural groans.

You felt the sheer weight of Ghost’s dick on your tongue, making your jaw begin to ache. You tried to push this aside, too, opting instead to focus entirely on making sure Ghost finished. You’d read enough fanfiction to be able to tell when that would happen. 

Whenever you swallowed around his cock, you heard a strangled noise escape him, not yet a moan, but the promising beginnings of one. It was deep, gruff. You wondered if Ghost made noises like this while getting himself off. The thought sent another jolt between your legs.

The sound of your collective breathing and you guzzling your own pre-cum-laced saliva made the room feel smaller, encasing you both in your own story, one which you hoped had a happy ending.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as your tongue caught a particularly prominent vein, “you sure you’ve never done this before?” He looked down at you through half-lidded, almost closed eyes. Hooded. You felt a smile coming on yet was physically incapable of expressing it. You hummed a response, pride swelling in your chest as you watched Ghost’s eyes screw shut at the feeling.

You wondered if he was close, and, judging by the shortening space between his breaths and the amount of pre-cum filling your mouth, you believed so. His grip in your hair tightened and you could feel him becoming more lost by the second as his restraint crumbled, leading to his grip becoming somewhat painful.

You ignored it, instead trying to take the rest of him for the final stretch. You swallowed, then advanced, swallowing the last couple of inches. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, trying to suppress the aching in your jaw and throat. Ghost hissed, his hips bucking once before he settled again. Your nose was pressed against the bottom of his stomach, dark, curly hairs tickling your nose.

You sucked him, felt him, your tongue trying to coat every inch of him in your saliva, the fire in your lower half burning brighter than ever. Your mind wandered to what it would feel like to be filled by him, encouraging you to go faster. Harder. You moved at a pace you thought was beyond your capacity, lips burning from the friction of sliding across the length of Ghost’s glossed cock.

“Just like that,” he breathed, just about capable of forming a cohesive thought, never mind a sentence.Something in your intuition told you he was close. Or perhaps it was in the way his groans had turned into deep, baritone moans and barely-comprehensible curses. You sucked harder.

“Keep goin’,” he said, breathless, “‘m nearly there,”

With a final push, running your tongue along a sensitive vein and swallowing, throat contracting around his tip, he came. Hard. He let out a mask-muffled moan, short yet harsh and potent, tailing off into a symphony of heavy breaths and groans. The sound made your core hot and tight, radiating tension and the promise of euphoria. 

His hand fused with your hair, gripping it tight enough to make you wince. Thick ropes of warm cum filled your mouth and throat, forcing you to withdraw as it went down the wrong way. You kept your mouth closed when you coughed, unsure of what to do with Ghost’s semen. It felt far too precious to spit out, yet you were unsure as to whether you were permitted to swallow. You watched Ghost collect his thoughts, his hold on your head loosening. He ran his fingers through where he’d held you, soothing you. Apologising for how rough he’d been.

His eyes opened, and he looked at you. You could see them widen fractionally as he spotted your cum-filled cheeks, waiting for his order.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he said, releasing a breath. Admiring his work. “Didn’t know you were waitin’ for me.”

You nodded, the taste of salt engulfing your tongue almost overwhelming. Ghost released the back of your head and deposited himself back into his pants, now having softened. He leaned down, just above eye level with you. “Swallow,” he ordered.

You did, and Ghost watched your throat bob. He gave a short hum and ran his thumb over the outline of your bottom lip. You leaned into his touch, his hand warm against your scorching skin.

You didn’t know how long you remained like that for, but it didn’t feel long enough. He withdrew, leaving you to feel cold without his immediate presence. Then, the reality of what you’d just done dawned on you. Your eyes widened, and you tried to keep your surprise to yourself.

You could scarcely believe that you’d actually - or rather, you and Ghost had - managed to do that without disappointing him. You only hoped it was as good for Ghost as he’d made it seem.

“Ghost,” you said, voice raspy and low, soft with inquisition. Ghost only hummed, leaning against the backrest of the sofa. “Did…” you swallowed, the slick remnants of him residing in crevices in your mouth. “Did I do well?” You almost wished you hadn’t asked, cringing at how desperate for confirmation you sounded. In your head, at least.

Ghost didn’t make it seem like that. He gave a slight nod.

“Very well,” he said, his emphasis reassuring you. You felt as if you could release the monstrous doubt accumulating on your shoulders. You gave a smile, plumping your flushed cheeks.

You both remained in slow silence, coming down from the excitement of what had just unfolded. Your gazes wandered the room, looking at nothing in particular. You wanted to maintain the tranquillity that had settled, but you felt another question burning in your lungs, desperate to be answered. You waited, then waited a little longer. Then, you asked.

“Ghost?” you said, your sore throat prickling, the ache in your knees becoming apparent to you. He looked to you. “Why did you come here?” Your question was genuine, and you didn’t want the skin-deep answer you knew was available to him; because I wanted a quick blow before I went home. You wanted him to look past that. His gaze was unintelligible.

“Why’d you invite me ‘ere?”

You blinked, then your honesty got the better of you. “Because…” You felt your face heating up again. You’ve literally just blown him, this should be a cake walk! “Because I...like you…?”

Ghost’s chest rumbled, likely a laugh.

“Well then, there’s your answer.”

Your heart wanted to soar, but the vagueness of his answer made you lust to ask just one more question.

“So…” you hoped your inquisitiveness (or density, as you might call it) was endearing, or at the least an excuse for your lack of abstract understanding. “Does this mean that you like me, too?” Your voice became more and more interrogative, phrasing the question in such a way that made it seem a mockery of itself, as if it were cosplaying its own function, exaggerated.

Ghost went quiet for a moment. “Honestly?” he said. You almost nodded before realising he was going to say more. “Yeah. I do.”

Okay, now your heart soared. You couldn’t fight the smile overtaking your features. Ghost noticed and made haste to try and revoke some of the joy he’d inflicted.

“Now don’t get all soppy on me,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “Else I’ll be forced to take drastic action.” Ignore you until you stop, is what your mind told you he’d do.

You tried to restrain your grin, but it remained. You could only reassure him verbally.

“No promises, Ghost,” you said, biting back the urge to laugh with joviality. Ghost shifted, his gaze becoming more intense. Serious.

“Call me Simon.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

Taglist: @cutiecusp

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Japan is Winning on Kisses & Other Alternate Realities

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - It would be great if we got the alternative romance with dead Kram from Tai’s perspective (JBL style.) Still I like this show. It’s a little bit like I Feel You Linger in the Air only with a love triangle. And while I'm not a fan of triangles as a general rule, I don’t mind it here because the set up is clever. Wayu and  ao are fun sides too. It sure is moving very quickly, which I like. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. But that’s normal for me with this kind of Thai drama. 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 4 of 8 - They are extremely sappy boyfriends. I love that mom has a secret gf. Could we please have more of them? The love triangle sides are ridiculous, but I do like that it’s all out in the open. I also like they are actually addressing the complicated parental dynamics of owning a sex club. Honestly, I think Khem should have to be a host too. Learn him the right way, girl!

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - It’s good, I like the fallout and them actually having to deal with crazy fans and past relationships. They’re so good at communicating it’s kind of a pleasure to watch them suffer through external pressures, because I have faith that they can make it through.

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 6 of 8 - They are such cute puppy dads and so clearly meant to be together, the fact that they aren’t is just frustrating. The fight thing was stupid. And not a whole lot happened... plus singing. I’m getting fatigued with this one. 

1000 Years Old ep 7 of 12 - Did I miss something happening, or did nothing happen? 

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 6 - It’s so boring, there’s so much guitar playing, and it got weirdly voyeuristic (in a very much not sexy way). I’m totally out. DNF

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) ep 3 of 6 - I can’t tell if this is trying to be a BL Romancing the Stone, or a BL Hangover, or both. The problem with situational comedy is it must be both situational and comedic, not just option one. The problem with calling something BL, is that it must be BL. This show got 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. DNF 

Honestly, it's the HANDS with these two. They do beautiful beautiful things with their hands. If you're one of those hands-obsessed BLabies you should be watching LIBTSTA!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 6 of 11 - So the worst finally happened. The mountain of pain has fallen down upon us. And now, hopefully in the second half things get better for our boys. But what a rough ride. Normally, this is not my style of BL, but everyone is doing such a gorgeous job with it, I can’t fault it… except that it hurts. The red thread symbolism was elegantly done. I’d like to hope we get a reunion in the next one, but knowing this style of series they’re gonna draw it out. There's gonna be a more pain first.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Those fuck me puppy dog eyes were perfectly executed. I would not have been able to resist either. Gosh they are so damn cute. This is a great show.

Jazz for Two (Korea Gaga/grey) eps 1-2 of 8 - This comes from the Shoulder to Cry On team so I'm scared, but this one is all actors* not idols so maybe they'll be braver. Boy howdy does it have a fantastic opening sequence. Also the lead is fucking adorable. Mr Broody McBroodypants is cute too. Korea sure loves “pretty but broken.” On the JBL end of the spectrum, is everyone in love with their siblings? That’s weird. The dining room scene was painful. All in all, it's good, I'm intrigued. Let's see how you go little show.

I stand absolutely corrected the lead is a member of NEWKIDD (in my defense I'd never heard of them until Build Up last month). I did recognize him from To My Star because at the time I thought he was too pretty to be only a side character.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 10 fin - Again there was overuse of previous footage and maudlin navel-gazing grief over something we knew was going to happen. So I didn’t really feel much emotional connection to the drama. 7 year time gap.? t was a cute reunion but the moral quandary never really got resolved. I don’t know how to rate this, I’m not sure I will ever watch it again, so that is a big mark against it.

There’s nothing objectively wrong with this BL except how upsetting it is because of the foundational pygmalion story - grown man falls in love with an android who is basically both his slave and, by maturity level, a child. Yet that premise is crystal clear from the get go, so we watch it eyes open. The actors are cute, the romance sweet, the physical chemistry on point (of course, it’s Taiwan) and yet I was left ultimately unsettled by the concept, content, and plot. 7/10 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I'm so ready for this to be over, and for Gaga to have something good on. Soon please?

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) - It's too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute verticals, I don't have that kind of TikTok endurance training. Waiting to binge.

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Tangential to the genre

There has been the occasional discussion on this topic here in this little corner of tumblr so I thought there might be a few intersted in this podcast: AmericanThaiGuy Ron Weaver on the Complicated Issue of Racism in Thailand (The Bangkok Podcast)

Thailand passed its Marriage Equality bill through the lower house. It's expected to pass the high house and get signed by the King, but that hasn't quite happened yet.

And MaxTul dropped a photo shoot.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

3/31 The Next Prince (Thai ????) 12 eps - trailer. ZeeNew in a fantasy/historical set in a palace where Zee plays a knight and Nu a prince - YES PLEASE. (Apparently this is just the pilot, not the start of the actual show, see comments.)

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast. Dual languages.

Hum, trash-watch-a-licious?

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube iQIYI) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

4/11 Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan ????) 10 eps - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why, they fall in love along the way. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake.

4/11 Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea ????) 4 eps - SooHyuk is only just surviving and reunites with YoonDae, an old friend. They end up living together. One of the leads is played by Choco of Choco Milk Shake.

4/18 At 25:00, in Alaska AKA 25 Ji, Akasaka de (Japan Gaga - may not be global) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn.

Seriously? You're killing me with these titles, boys.

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks well complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner) and Best, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Just these two, in my head, rent free. Thanks Japan!

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy. (With so many tags when does a weekly tumblr post become a newsletter? That is this week's philosophical question...)

[tanadrin]

Imagine one day a new social trend starts spreading. It’s something unbelievably dumb. Not harmful per de, but truly silly to believe. Let’s say, I dunno, healing crystals start going mainstream. Everybody’s talking about their crystals. It becomes impolite to criticize people who believe in healing crystals. They become a big part of people’s personalities, and people on TV start talking about them, and one day years down the line politicians are debating funding for crystal-based medicine. And through it all you are sitting there going, what the fuck is happening. I thought we were all on the same page on this. You want to get along and be friendly and open minded but you cannot pretend to believe in healing crystals, this is nonsense, and when the topic comes up you refuse to lie about it. This eventually starts to have social consequences—they’re that popular!—but what can you do? You cannot pretend a lump of quartz can cure the flu or whatever. It’s just all so unbearably embarrassing.

I think what the centrist/liberal/center-left reactionary turn driven by culture war stuff feels like. And I think the key emotion is probably cringe. Not hate, not fear, though those emotions may reinforce the turn. I think in a lot of cases people who imagine themselves pretty open minded and flexible have as part of their worldview something they thought was bedrock social consensus—on the level of “healing crystals are silly woo”—so bedrock maybe that it didn’t even need to be a conceptual boundary they actually policed in their minds.

For instance, when she started her anti-trans turn, JK Rowling made a big show of not being really anti trans, just arguing that Some People Had Gone Too Far. She wasn’t a frothing religious reactionary, after all. And I believe that’s probably true! I think Rowling probably did have a mental model of sex and gender with a little bit of give in it—of the “we can humor the odd weirdo” type. But as the discussion of trans rights in the UK got more serious over her lifetime, trans people went from “the odd weirdo” to “a recognized minority,” and eventually this ran against a bedrock belief that on some level men are men and women are women and never the twain shall meet. To act otherwise was just too embarrassing. And she wasn’t going to embarrass herself in the name of political correctness.

Other people whose brains have been eaten by the anti-woke mind virus (as @eightyonekilograms calls it) have something going of the contrarian in them, who enjoys yelling “up yours, woke moralists!” or w/e. Im thinking of ppl like Glenn Greenwald here, or Dave Chapelle, people who seem not to feel alive except when people are mad at them. That’s a separate but interesting dynamic. And there are people like Graham Linehan who become totally unhinged through this process of auto-radicalization, moths drawn ever closer to a particular source of validation within their chosen reactionary subcommunity, until they are truly parodies of themselves. That is also an important dynamic, but it’s one that only takes hold after the initial turn has begun.

I think the role of that feeling of cringe, that refusal to entertain an idea because it is too embarrassing (even if it does actually have a decent body of research behind it, unlike crystals) is important to think about, because I am interested in how to get people over it. I know that feeling has affected my own thinking over my lifetime. I wasn’t raised particularly conservative, but I had to learn not to cringe at a lot of feminist thought before I could appreciate it and learn from it. I explicitly didn’t have that cringe when it came to gay people for whatever reason, so it never entered my mind that it might be a problem. I remember being surprised to learn when I was very young that some boys wanted to marry other boys, but my response was “huh. Go figure.” Because for whatever reason I had not picked up that this was something I was supposed to be grossed out by. A general doctrine of empathy, of trying to understand people on their own terms, can help forestall some of this stuff, but it’s not foolproof in either direction—I don’t want to believe crystals have healing powers if it becomes socially popular to do so, just because it is socially popular to do so! And if they do, I don’t want to not believe they do just because it is socially unpopular!

(Obviously the crystals thing is not a one to one metaphor for the trans thing, so don’t read too much into that. Maybe astrology would have been a better analogy. Also I’m not talking just about people whose reactionary turn is predicated on trans issues—I think this dynamic applies to everything from gay rights to the Tridentine Mass. But trans issues are a handy example bc, as the adage goes, somebody posts once about trans people and they never post anything normal again. I think the classic rapid-onset trans derangement syndrome is closely tied to the fact that gender norms are a really deep element of many people’s social-consensus-based worldview, and so challenged to that worldview are felt as really cringe.)

I’m curious if other people who grew more liberal in their thinking over time had a similar experience of having to overcome what was basically a feeling of embarrassment at certain ideas.

[sapphicseasapphire]

ok, so, this has been bugging me for a bit today, but, what was Sky's reaction to when he first met Warriors? like there's got to be a strong emotion there given that Fi is also a sword spirit.

so yeah, I'm just wondering what you have planed for that.

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(also great artwork it's absolutely stunning and looks really yummy)

((dont question it))

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS, I HAD TO DRAW IT.

(Lore under the cut. Sorry, I have a lot to say about this haha)

Sky’s reaction when he first meets Warriors? Awe.

They find Wars last- or, well, they find his sword. The others are notably confused because they were looking for the hero. The temple that they were led to is completely empty except for a single sword atop a pedestal. Surely their lead was wrong- this can’t be it. Maybe this is the hero’s blade? And he will return to the temple? Or is this just the wrong spot entirely?

While the others are arguing with each other about what to do next, Sky steps up to the blade. It’s… a lot fancier than the ones that the heroes are accustomed to. Gems are inlaid into the guard, fabric is woven around the grip in a familiar pattern. There are diamonds that run down the blade and a piece of blue fabric is tied around the ring of the pommel. This level of decoration is not usually suited for a sword to be wielded in battle. In fact, the only sword that he’s known to be this beautiful and but also effective is currently strapped at his side. As Sky walks closer, he can see the blade glow unnaturally, and his voice echoes through the temple:

“It’s a Sword Spirit,” he’d say, reaching out to the blade but not touching. Not yet.

There’s a mix of emotions when Sky looks upon the blade. He’s relieved, for he had feared that Sword Spirits had been forgotten entirely. His heart aches at the cold weight of Fi at his side, empty and quiet where she used to be full of life. It’s good, he thinks, to see a new sword shine so bright. He’s a little afraid, he’d admit, since he has unsavory memories of a different Sword Spirit. Phantom hands at his shoulders, tongue at his ear, black blades arcing in the air.

Still, Sky can’t repress the way his heart leaps in excitement, a smile at his lips, even as his hand falters in the air. Another Sword Spirit, here, right in front of him. Another opportunity to make things right, to fix things. Oh, how he misses Fi.

“This is the hero we’re looking for.”

And the others would approach, their curiosity piqued by the reverent tone of Sky’s voice. (Note that Sky had just joined them about two-ish days ago? He was the second to last to meet the Chain, the last being Wars).

No one else has met a Sword Spirit before, not even Wild or Time (who, at this point, everyone thinks is a spirit), so they’re all a bit hesitant to accept Sky’s words at face value. Sky explains that he’s met Sword Spirits before, that the Master Sword herself is a spirit. Puzzle pieces click into place but they still need more convincing. They’ll believe that Sky’s correct: that the sword in the pedestal is indeed a Sword Spirit, but they don’t agree that it’s the hero that they’re looking for.

At least, not until the spirit bursts from his sword in a flash of white light, floating in the air as Fi had done so long ago. The eight heroes stand, eyes wide, before the glowing metallic figure. Sky could cry in at the joy he feels as the spirit utters his first words to them:

“Hello, Masters.”

. . .

• Sky inherently trusts everything that Wars says because he trusted Fi. Fi didn’t lie, she was always helpful, and she told him exactly what he needed to hear every single time, even if he didn’t like it. She was calculating and intelligent and Sky (well… Link) could not have survived on the Surface without her. He trusted her with his life. Sky has no reason to think that Wars would ever lie to him, either. Especially in the early days, when he’s more robotic and less human. And so, he trusts Wars to always be honest.

• This will totally definitely 100% not be a problem guys, I promise. Wars would never lie to Sky about something dangerous. And it totally would never result in Sky getting hurt. And it’s definitely not why Wars looks so upset in the sketches I did yesterday. You can trust me. I promise.

• Sky and Wars talk a lot about Fi. Wars is curious about her, since he’s met her before in his own era and doesn’t know what happened to her. So Sky would explain that she went to sleep after his first adventure, and Wars would stare at him blankly.

“Sword Spirits do not necessitate sleep, Master.”

“I-” Sky would look away, something terribly vulnerable in his eyes. His voice would be sad and quiet as he continued: “I know.”

• I know I’ve talked about this before, but Sky is the most knowledgeable about Wars. He understands. And so his interactions with Wars are a lot easier for the Sword Spirit than with the others. The others don’t like being called “Master.” They don’t like the matter-of-fact way he talks, how he calculates every sentence before speaking it, how he uses percentages and simulations to back up his arguments. (How he always wins arguments). And Sky doesn’t necessarily like these things either, but he’s always patient. Always gentle. He allows Wars to call him “Master” because he understands how much Wars needs it. When Wars goes off on tangents and describes every bit of data he can think of, Sky sits and listens and they talk and it’s just so easy. Sky is probably Wars’ favorite, just for that.

• The REASON that Sky is so supportive of Wars goes back to the one thing that drives him through literally everything in his life: guilt. He said goodbye to Fi much too soon. She was just starting to open up, to feel and express her emotions, when their time ran out. He never got to know the person she’d end up to be, and he’s not making that same mistake again with Warriors.

I think I’ve talked about this before? How when Sword Spirits are young, they talk robotically and don’t express themselves, but as they mature and are around more people, they kind of adopt their traits and become a more well rounded person? Fi, for example was only around for what? A few months? Ghirahim had thousands of years to develop. That’s the difference between “According to your social customs, I should provide you with my personal designation. Fi is the name I was given,” and “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I'm not fussy."

Sky wants to see Wars grow in the way that he never got to see Fi. He wants to know Wars. Not just as a spirit, but as a friend.

[nekropsii]

Ok, don't get me wrong, i think your opinions/analysis have arguments, so you have reasons.

But i can't stop thinking, when you talk about fandom not interpreting things correctly, mostly dancestors, it feels like:

Fanon: i love the dancestors! They are all so nice!

You: aCTUALLY, they are all ASSHOLES, except mituna, latula, and porrim. The rest is crap and here is a long and detailed list with why:

And a the end of the list :but this is what makes them great as characters, because they have a narrative function to it!

Yep. And I stand by that. Firmly. What’s the problem here?

The Alpha Trolls - not the Dancestors, that’s literally every character in Homestuck - are largely not good people. Calling them nice is blatantly false and outright disregards almost every single scrap of text we are given. Mituna’s a good dude in a bad situation full of people he doesn’t really like, as is Damara. Latula’s literally never done anything wrong. Porrim’s just a regular person. Aranea’s pretty nice, and her actions during Game Over were a result of eternities of torment and desperation to be seen + heard, and is therefore not fully representative of her. Meenah’s cute, but a major fuckup that has committed some absolutely egregious crimes. That’s it, really.

The Alpha Trolls are Good Characters and (mostly) Bad People.

Are you maybe experiencing some kind of difficulty in understanding that there’s a difference between a character and a person? Because a fuck ton of people in fandom definitely do have that problem, for some reason.

A character is a plot device. It is a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. A person is a person. The difference between a bad person and a bad character is that a bad character isn’t fulfilling the role and function they are supposed to perform, and a bad person is just a shitty guy I do not want to be around. Conflating the two leads to bad analysis, and is also a primary contributor to apologetics, and all those god awful fanonizations that sand down every edge the character has until they’re pleasant people and totally unrecognizable. People think they have to like a character as a human being in order to like them as a character. Which is completely untrue, and is totally naïve to the fact that villains are popular for a reason.

A character can be a bad person and a good character - they fill their role and serve their purpose very well, but would absolutely suck to be around. Meenah, Vriska, Cronus, and Caliborn all fit under that label. This isn’t always a villain role, but it does tend to get taken up by villains. And anti-heroes, of course. Vriska is there, after all

A character can be a good person but a bad character - they’d be pleasant to talk to in real life, but they suck at fulfilling their narrative purpose. Just about every fanon version of a character is this. It’s more of a fanfiction thing than an actual real literature thing.

I am the biggest fan + defender of the Alpha Trolls you can find. The Alpha Trolls largely are not good people, but they serve their function very well. This is not a controversial statement because it is entirely true. Fanon is dogshit and totally wrong, 100% of the time. This is a hill I’m willing to die on because I’m literally just correct. There is not a scrap of text on this planet that you could procure to say Cronus Ampora is a good person - anything you could scrounge up is just baseless fanfiction and total garbage.

I do not see the confusion, nor do I understand the point you’re trying to make. These are facts that can and do coexist, quite regularly. Even within Homestuck. Again, Vriska exists. What now?

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, pt 7

part 6 | cuddles - - - -

🎁 | mistletoe magic

“Ooh, look she’s doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Kara asked, shrugging off her jacket to join Nia and Brainy at a hightop laden with empty glasses.

“Mistletoe magic,” Nia sighed fondly.

“Mistletoe what-?” Kara glanced at Brainy who looked flush with a smudge of Nia’s shade of red on his own lips, and then her eyes tracked to Kelly and Alex two tables away giggling under the glowing branch of green leaves that glistened with the telltale golden sparks of magic. Of Lena’s magic. “Oh.”

She found the culprit loitering on the far end of the bar nursing a drink, smiling, and looking totally and completely huggable, and Kara’s mood immediately brightened. Not that it was sour: it was Al’s holiday party after all.

Kara’s natural reaction to seeing Lena was to superspeed over and engulf her into a super-sized hug and hope the burst of surprise and laughter would land quiet and private into the crook of her neck. 

She very nearly did exactly that except just as she was about to shift into sixth gear and race over Kara realized Lena wasn’t alone. More specifically, she was bookended by two people: Sam and... Andrea.

Which was… fine. Kara loved Sam and all the support she had for Lena. But Andrea? Kara was trying to find warmth for Andrea.

“How long has she been here?” Kara asked before the green-eyed monster could be swallowed down.

“Who?” Nia asked, distracted by a stuffed potato skin.

“No one," Kara blinked, brushing away imaginary crumbs from the table, "nothing. Forget it-”

“I believe Kara is referring to either Ms. Rojas or Ms. Arias,” Brainy interrupted, being all correct and stuff. Kara shot him a dark look that went missed because he was still trying to rub off remnants of lipstick.

“Oh, dunno,” Nia replied with a shrug. “I think they came together?”

“Sam and Andrea?” Kara asked for confirmation even though she definitely didn’t care.

“No, Andrea and Lena.”

“Oh. Sure. Right.”

Positively, absolutely, for sure wasn’t bothered by that.

“Why?” Kara asked nearly a minute later, interrupting a conversation she wasn’t listening to.

Nia paused mid-sentence and glanced at a very distraught-looking Kara. “Why what?”

“Why did they come together?”

“Who?”

“I believe Kara is referring to Ms. Rojas and-”

“Did they have a work meeting?” Kara interrupted, eyes jumping back toward Andrea who was far too cozy and far too close to Lena which was… fine. It was. It really was.

Nia’s mouth opened to respond. Then it closed. Then her eyes narrowed. Then they lifted. Then a smirk the size of the Nile spread across her face. “Why do you care?”

And Kara didn’t like the Nile-sized smile. She didn’t like it one bit. “No reason.”

“I dunno. Brainy, does she look a bit jealous to you?”

“I’m not-” Kara tried to cut in - whined, practically.

“Kara, you do look rather, as they say, ‘put-out’.”

“Does it have anything to do with Andrea subtly guiding Lena toward that mistletoe next to them-?”

“What? She isn’t-”

“Or are you just jealous Lena’s full attention is on her ex at all?”

Two things happened next: the first was that Kara fish-mouthed and blushed furiously because yea, obviously she was jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone getting Lena’s time. Not that Kara wanted to control her time or who she spent it with or…

And then the second thing happened. And that second thing was like an Acme anvil falling on her Wile E. Coyote state of confusion: she registered Nia's actual words.

“Her ex? Who’s ex? Sam’s ex? You… you mean Sam and Andrea, right? They’re exes?” 

Right? she shouted in her brain and maybe out loud.

The look on Nia’s face did not support this thesis because the look on Nia’s face was like she was looking at an alien, which technically Kara was, but ‘idioms’. 

“I don't know about Ms. Aria, but Ms. Rojas dated Lena for a number of years at boarding school,” Brainy confirmed and shattered Kara’s hopes and dreams and maybe her heart too just a little bit because at that exact moment Lena burst into laughter and Andrea looked so proud for being the source of said laughter and no, Kara’s eyes were not glowing red that would be preposterous but if they were it’s not like anyone would notice with all the colorful lights hung everywhere-

“Hey you know your eyes are glowing, right?” Nia asked before sucking up a bright purple drink from a tiny blue straw and smiling like the dang cheshire cat. 

Ok, so yea, maybe her eyes glowing red wasn’t, like, the greatest. 

“I need to get some food,” Kara mumbled, abandoning Brainy and Nia for the bar where M’gann was telling off a drunk Haverack wobbling on of his stool and J’onn was stepping up to intervene. Before his stony disposition could do its trick though, a tickle of gold flecks from overhead stalled the entire confrontation.

Kara wasn’t going to pout. She wouldn’t do that. She was a way calmer, cooler, collected-er kryptonian than that. 

What Kara was going to do though was lean against the bar and stare longingly at M’gann laughing when J’onn pointed to the glowing mistletoe that had not-so-subtly appeared above them.

The Haverack fell off his stool again, but that wasn’t what kept Kara’s attention.

“I’m sure M’gann is willing to share, darling.”

It wasn’t fair that Lena could make Kara jump and send her super calm, cool, collected demeanor catapulting out the nearest window with a little whisper. It also wasn’t fair that Lena was so so pretty leaning in next to her while wearing nothing more than a simple pair of jeans and sweater. A sweater that was too long in the arms and bunched at Lena’s wrists and made Kara want to pull her close and fly her home and wrap them both in a blanket for the rest of eternity.

Naturally Kara replied with a stammer and in a fit of indecision, she grabbed Lena's hand and also winked and then booped her head against Lena's shoulder.

Which was far from normal. It was because Lena was so pretty tonight.

But Lena was always pretty. She could make cardboard overalls look good. And sure, Kara had seen from a distance that she was just as jaw-dropping as ever, but seeing her up close? in Kara’s own space? where she could get lost in Lena’s soft pretty skin? where she could feel the piercing meant-only-for-her gaze and get all sorts of weak-kneed and breathless? where she could take in the perfect shampoo-perfumey-Lena mix that couldn’t be imitated because Kara, curious and missing Lena while she was off saving acquisitions and mergers once in Shanghai, had tried recreating the scent but failed? 

“I thought you weren’t going to make it. Duty calling and all that.”

“I’ve got one ear on the city, and deadlines can wait one more night,” Kara explained, trying to ignore the distraction that was Lena. Always Lena.

"Don't let Cat hear you say that," Lena smirked.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Just the usual: M’gann’s eggnog has half the bar dancing, though it looks like some hit it a bit too hard,” Lena said with a nod toward the passed-out Haverack, “and Nia is dragging Brainy under every green leaf in the place,” Lena chuckled. "Not sure whose going to tap out first."

“It sounds like someone is to blame for that ‘mistletoe magic’,” Kara replied, nudging Lena with her shoulder.

Lena hummed, her feigned ignorance betrayed by a revealing smirk. 

“Care for some?”

“S-some?” Kara choked, ears ringing.

“Mistletoe magic,” Lena explained slowly, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching with the elegance of a chandelier or an umbrella or hand-painted porcelain or-or… Kara didn’t know. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

Kara glanced across the bar toward Alex who was giving her a knowing stare and supportive smile that really looked more like a grimace mixed with nausea which meant only one thing: here it was, the chance. The chance Kara had spent minutes and hours and days pacing and hoping and yammering Alex’s ear off for. 

She had gone through every stage of fretting and panicking and unintentionally tearing her couch cushions in half before Kelly’s calmer touch gave her the confidence to believe in her own feelings and maybe - maybe - even Lena's.

Because that’s what Lena was implying now, right?

It was a frosting-covered finger. It was an intimately placed zipper. It was nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Now was the chance to put those feelings in motion. It was the perfect setting: holiday tunes were playing, lights were twinkling, the laughter and raucous of friends and family surrounded them. It couldn’t be any better, which was why Kara took a readying breath, propped herself against the bar in a way she hoped looked confident, and offered what Alex would later call the most manic-looking smile she’d ever seen.

“Well if it’s on the table…” Kara began bravely with a throat-clearing to steady herself, “uh, do I get to… er, you know,” she continued with the elegance of a newborn calf taking its first steps, “to pick?”

The wagging eyebrows probably didn’t help her efforts because she was met with a small Lena scowl that made Kara swallow and mutter some incoherent set of sounds and extend her finger toward the sprinkle of mistletoe hanging around the bar like Lena didn’t understand.

But then Lena said “oh” in this small sort of way that made Kara think that maybe Lena didn’t understand. So she clarified: 

“Put me in, coach!” Kara said, puffing up her chest with the kind of confidence reserved only for superheroes and poorly thought through actions.

And technically they were words. Maybe not the best words. Definitely not her best words. But together, it made a semi-coherent sentence that surely - definitely - made her intentions clear.

“Put you… in? I wasn’t… I meant-”

“You meant that since everyone else is… you know...” Kara said conspiratorially with a hand gesture that was meant to say everything else. “I don’t wanna miss out on that holiday spirit, right?”

“I didn’t, uh,” Lena began, a small cough and blush making her discomfort clear which made Kara want to hoover back those misguided intentions real fast and keep her dumb mouth shut. 

Then Lena’s scowl deepened to a version Kara wasn’t familiar with and definitely couldn’t identify which made Kara’s heart plummet. “Right, of course. Who did you-”

“I call dibs!” came an excited shout from behind Lena. 

And yea, maybe Kara should’ve been better at observing her surroundings because there was Sam. 

Who was standing on the other side of Lena. 

The whole time.

Not like it could be Kara’s fault though: Lena just had a way of making the rest of the world disappear. 

“Uh- '' Kara stammered because that technically - definitely - was not what she meant and having Sam sidekick her way through Kara’s ‘feelings’ reveal was not the chance she had pictured. But from the look of tempered frustration on Lena’s face, maybe she should be thanking Sam.

“Pucker up babes,” Sam said, dancing around Lena to split the two. “Lena, you don’t mind, right?” Sam asked, eyes bright and mischievous and far too excited for Kara’s waning courage.

“I don’t really think Kara needs my permission,” Lena replied with a tone that sounded… mad? Was Lena mad? 

“I meant the green leafy goods; get your magic hands moving, Luthor,” Sam said, jazz hands waving at her own sides.

“I-I'd only meant it for, uh, real couples-”

“Oh,” Kara answered while a ton of metaphorical bricks squeezed her chest empty of air and hope and confidence. 

Kara peered past Sam toward Lena who looked flush and annoyed and her jaw was clenched like a vice and, oh gosh, Kara had misread the whole situation. 

Maybe it wasn’t a frosting-covered finger or an intimately placed zipper or nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Maybe Kelly and Alex had talked her into a false sense of security. Maybe she had just barged in and ruined a perfectly good time. Had she just ruined a perfectly good friendship? Kara didn’t have an answer so instead she stared at the floor which was peppered with fallen mistletoe leaves and dirty napkins and cobwebs and… was that a ring?

“Oh relax, Lena. What’s the harm in a little-”

“Sam, enough-”

“I was kidding,” Kara practically shouted as an uncomfortable hand fidgeted with a pair of absent glasses. 

For having super hearing, Kara could only make out pin-drop silence, Sam’s shocked “what?” and Lena’s racing heartbeat.

“There isn’t, you know… I was just kidding. Can you imagine that? Supergirl kissing someone? Here? And-and besides, Lena’s right - you’re right,” Kara rambled, looking at her best friend who was decidedly not looking at her, “real couples only, and there isn’t, you know, anyone here who… uhm, yea.”

And then she forced a laugh because she wanted all of it to end.

It sort of did after that: 

Awkwardness ensued through silent sips and half-glances. Sam did her best to rope in the others, but Kara couldn’t shake the discomfort. 

Then Alex and Kelly offered their goodbyes - “babysitters are expensive!” - with Kara getting a tighter hug than usual from Alex that didn't make anything feel better.

Sam followed moments later with a matching reason and what looked like an apologetic smile - “minus the babysitter part. Ruby would skin me alive if I hired a babysitter. She already thinks she’s twenty.”

Nia, with Brainy in tow, made some excuse about needing to replace a lightbulb that no one believed because by then the color Nia’s lips had started the night with was now the color of Brainy's face, neck, and collar.

Which left Kara and Lena, and boy did Kara want to apologize for overstepping. Her fingers tapped on a bottle she didn’t remember getting while mustering the courage and bravery she thought she remembered having. She almost found it again.

Almost.

Except that’s the exact moment Kara realized it wasn’t just her and Lena, because Andrea picked that exact moment to reappear.

“Where’d everyone go?”

Lena said words and Kara nodded but didn’t hear. What she did hear was Andrea’s suggestion that they call it a night. Then she heard Andrea propose she and Lena share a cab - “we live two blocks apart, after all” - and within seconds had both jackets at the ready. 

Then Lena, who hadn’t said another word to Kara all night, looked briefly conflicted toward Kara before nodding.

“Goodnight, Kara.”

And then it did end. It ended without the right words or a hug and definitely not a kiss. It ended before it even began with Kara standing alone under a branch of forgotten mistletoe.

- - - - - - part 8 | new years

[s1i9d]

I’m going to compile a quick list of things that I know from Archives in totality. Wanna make it clear what I do and don’t know so it could be interesting for perspective reads. [Spoilers up to Magnus Protocol E20]

Disclaimer: Aside from anything in this list, I do not know anything about Archives. I am listening to Protocol specifically devoid of Archives spoilers. So please no Archives spoilers. Also if I am wrong about something here, please do not correct me. I think it’ll be more fun that way if I’m not spoiled on these assumptions.

Celia is a character from Archives, and she’s aware of the Magnus Institute in her supposedly alternate timeline is definitely why she’s more genre savvy here. As for what the Magnus Institute did in Archives, or what role Celia had in Archives, I have no idea.

This one is more of a theory. I initially thought Celia was some kind of werewolf or creature transformation thing that was locked in the basement and that’s why she appeared on the side of the road in E11. I thought this because E10 ends with the thing in the Institute basement unlocking itself and freeing itself, and immediately at the start of E11, Celia wakes up so I thought there was a tie between them. [It’s still unclear if that’s what’s happening, but more likely it’s random teleportation.] I know the shapeshifter thing has a maybe(?) presidency of some kind in Archives. To what extent, to what’s happening, to what specifically, I have no clue.

I know Jon and Martin are the supposed main characters of Archives, and they’re in FR3-D1 as Chester and Norris respectively. They are gay for each other and Jon is ace(?) which I appreciate as a gay ace agender person.

Jon is also the person who sent Sam that email Sam showed Colin who freaked out back in E7. I suspect he/Martin are also the one who sent the email to Sam about the Protocol and Magnus Institute in E20. They seem to also be the ones in Fr3-D1 that are trying to get Sam to keep researching the institute every time he says he’s going to stop.

There’s a third character in FR3-D1 who voices Augustus named “Jonah”. I don’t know who the fuck he is, but my theory is that he is an evil villain of some kind who Jon and Martin are actively fighting against in the computer, since Alice mentioned Augustus is the rarest voice of the three, which I think is Jon and Martin trying to suppress Jonah by making out sloppy style with each other. I know that the three of them together form the .jmj error that Alice keeps getting.

Tea is some kind of metaphor in Archives, and the fact that Celia has tea consistently instead of coffee like the rest of our crew makes it clear that she’s from Archives.

Certain words are weird. I know they’re key words but I have no idea what they mean: Hunt, Compel, Avatar, The Eye. They’re just gibberish but they sound important. I do know Hunt refers to the statement about Lady Mowbray in E15, but I think there’s more context that was in Archives that isn’t in Protocol.

Georgie is voiced by the Magnus creator’s wife and is maybe in Archives? Unclear about that.

The alchemy stuff in E19 is NOT from Archives. That’s new stuff and plays an exclusive role in Protocol.

Worms?

The fire (at least in E7) can be interpreted as a ritual. Given that The Protocol™️ is anti-supernatural driven arson, I think there’s a chance it was not a ritual. But my friends reaction to E7 was that it was a ritual, so there’s a chance it could be.

Live music is apparently a big no no in the Magnus multiverse?

Influencer speak is not a thing in Archives?[I absolutely loved it, no lie. I satirically speak like an influencer sometimes but I died laughing first time I heard E15]

Protocol is far more digital, having use the audience listen through devices like phones, CCTV or computers via FR3-D1. The only exception is E10 and E15, where fucking tape recorders show up. Tape recorders are a main motif in Archives, and it’s very odd it’s here as an analog device compared to the digital listening devices.

Yeah, that’s all I got. I feel like I’ve scraped my brain clean of any details. If there’s more I’ll probably reblog this with more info. If anyone’s curious, feel free to send an ask and I’ll probably get to it. (No Archive spoilers in the asks obv.)

Kthxbyeeeeeeeee

[mychlapci]

Best girl Sentinel Prime’s coworkers are happy to surprise her by having her gender changed on the official paperwork without her even needing to ask. First Aid verified it so they could submit it, and now all of the records have been corrected to reflect that Sentinel is their good girl. Although she’s stopped taking her “heat suppressants,” her medic has prescribed her estrogen! They look the same to Sentinel, but First Aid assured her that many drugs do and it’s nothing to worry about. So she doesn’t. Her focus is on beating this heat so she can get back to work and stop having to wear her soft, pretty skirts and cute little bras… well, okay, maybe she’ll still wear them but Sentinel misses not feeling so emotional and needy!

Her coworkers are sent from Primus, she’s sure! They’re so understanding of her mood-swings, always eager to pet her plating and coo understandingly as they slip their spikes into her wet pussy. They always know what she needs! And they insist that she not wear plugs or close her panels; they need to be able to administer her treatment whenever the heat symptoms get too much to bear. I.e. anytime they think Sentinel is being too bitchy or demanding, they give her enough overloads to turn her into a giggly, clinging mess. Which means that lubricants and transfluid are often painting the inside of her thighs by the end of the day.

They all have different styles of fucking her, which Sentinel loves. Variety is the spice of life and all! Jazz likes her loud and begging, and is generous with overloads. He’s got lots of tricks for fragging a valve, and it absolutely shows when Sentinel is crying through yet another overload. First Aid makes her do all the work under the guise of “letting his patient take what she needs.” But mostly so he can watch her figure out how it feels best to ride his spike. Blurr frags fast and overloads quickly, but he makes up for it by overloading /a lot/. And the sheer speed and desperation of it do something for Sentinel, leaving her pliant and well fragged when he finally pulls out. Cliffjumper makes her warm his spike and totally ignores her. It’s almost unbearably hot, the way he pretends she’s not there even when he frags into her. Doing his datawork over Sentinel’s shoulder, occasionally hushing her when she whines. If she gets *too loud* he just tells her to do her own work on that lovely hypnopad and then continues lazily fucking an eager valve whenever the mood strikes. Some of them toy with her limp spikelet, some don’t. Some pinch, bite, or suck her nozzles, and some don’t. But they’re all happy to help their best girl with her needs. When Sentinel inevitably winds up pregnant they’ll have no idea whose it is other than hers. Maybe it’s all of theirs, the sheer volume of transfluid mixing in her forge.

When First Aid confirms that Sentinel is pregnant she feels relieved! Her protracted heat is finally over and she can stop fucking her coworkers like a slut. She’ll be able to get back to work with no distractions, now that her hormones age totally gonna level off! Except her men are quick to remind her that carriers need lots of transfluid to stay healthy, and they’re more than happy to contribute for their best girl’s sake. Transfluid with every meal! Taken orally and by valve, of course. And plenty of fragging to keep her topped up and relaxed. Stress is bad for the baby. They’ll spend the entire carriage helping Sentinel understand that getting her fucked at work is what’s best for all of them.

ouhhh they made such a good girl out of her… You know, now I can't help but wonder what Ultra Magnus thinks about this though aasdbshksk. Did he just watch on, silent, as the entire office conspired to turn Sentinel into a girl, and just let it happen? Was he completely ignorant until one day, Sentinel walked into his office, cute skirt swishing around her hips, the only thing more striking than her new hourglass figure being the little starting baby bump on her belly…? Either way, I think he should join in on the fun, introduce her to a whole new kind of stretch. Sentinel likes the variety in her lovers, after all.

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Nineteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Plot time! Some fluffy conversation, Action, Some spider peril, aphrodisiac influence.

Word count: 4100 Notes: Ok so I've had extra time off w being ill to re-cooperate and I've actually got chapters 20 and 21 done so hopefully those will be up sooner! Thanks for waiting <3

‘You ready?’

You were milling about the HQ entrance with Mig at your side, preparing for your first mission together. You’d got into your hazmat suit just fine but Mig was struggling with his. They usually came with attached leg parts and he didn’t exactly have legs to fit into one, so his had been hastily made to order.

‘Argh—I hate this, clothing, thing—how did I ever wear this every day?’

You snorted at Mig’s quiet grumbles as you helped pull the thick plastic material over his stocky belly.

‘I’ve brought up the possibility of making an exception for you, with the- clothing, thing, but they’re being weird about it’ you mumbled.

‘I don’t- want you to go through any trouble for me’ Mig said. His voice kept catching as he squirmed. You noted how tight his suit was compared to yours, how it clung to his enormous shoulders like latex. Clearly whoever had made it hadn’t paid close enough attention to how big Mig was.

‘What was it you used to say to me? Oh no, arañita, I like doing things for you—that’s me. That’s also me. I like doing things for you, it’s why I am—’ you paused to give his suit one final tug. ‘In a relationship with you!’

Mig totally ignored that his suit was on, instead doing a little wiggle with his abdomen to the word ‘relationship’. Hearing it made him so happy.

‘Mm. Yes, well- okay.’ He bent down and reached out his hand, baying you to give him yours. You did, and he gingerly kissed your fingers before squeezing them between his claws. ‘I suppose I don’t mind you doing a little for me. If it makes you happy.’

‘You’re so silly’ you chided gently. For just a moment, you got to stand and look up into his big red eyes without worrying about anything or anyone else around you. His eyes creased as he smiled.

‘Mi arañita’ he whispered.

 It was simple, short, sweet. To you, it was an affirmation. To him, it was a confession of love he just wasn’t strong enough to make overtly quite yet. You bumped foreheads, since the suits stopped you being able to kiss, before withdrawing from each other.

‘May I, make a confession to you, arañita?’

‘Yeah, of course. Go ahead.’

‘I… I am certainly, excited, to see a new universe again. I used to dream about this when I was human, and while I gave up on my dreams when I changed it has been… exhilarating, to feel like a scientist again. I just…’ Mig paused and gently rubbed his jaw. ‘I’m, nervous.’

‘About what?’

‘About… You’ he said, his voice dipping. ‘About, putting you in danger.’

‘Oh Miggy- I’ve been a spider a lot longer than you have!’ you insisted.

‘Yes. And on your first mission, you met me. Because you—got hurt’ he said bluntly. Your teasing smile turned to an awkward frown.

‘Oh… Ohh. Right. Yeah. Well… Look at it this way.’ You turned and gestured to yourself, lightly tapping your chest as you stared up at him. ‘I completed my first mission specifically because I had your help. So, now you’re here with me, it’ll be even better! And I promise, I won’t get headstrong and try to go around you. I will accept your help.’

Mig still looked perturbed but he seemed comforted at the memory of helping you. ‘Yes… Yes, you are, correct.’

‘As always.’

‘Mm. Very humorous. Regardless, you are right. I helped you then, and, I can help now. I appreciate you understanding my concern, arañita. I also, as a show of good faith, will not stand in the way of you doing this mission. I trust you.’

You beamed up at him, and he beamed back.

‘I’m just rather surprised we got put on it at all. I was quite prepared for my, other half to get in the way’ Mig mused as he shook himself off. Immediately your face fell.

‘Ah... yeah. Me too. Me too’ you said quietly.

You’d been surprised Miguel had even okayed the idea of you both going out. He’d been so weird about Mig joining at all, and then out of nowhere he was giving you both a mission right after Mig passed? When you joined it took months to get any mission at all. Deep down, this whole thing had you a little on edge.

You were trying to keep your feelings to yourself, though, since you didn’t want to upset or worry Mig. He was settling in so well and you’d hate to cause him discomfort for no reason. You liked seeing him happy. You liked seeing him thrive.

‘Mi arañita?’

You blinked and glanced upward, only to find Mig staring at you. You must have gotten lost in your thoughts.

‘Ah- hey, what’s up now pretty boy?’ you asked, forcing a smile. His lips didn’t return the same softness. Instead, his face remained serious.

‘You’re worried. Yes? About my counterpart, and how quickly this mission was given to us. You’re worried that he has some ulterior motive. You’re worried he might be, setting us up, rather than stepping back.’

You sighed. God damn it. While you appreciated how in-tune you were, it also made hiding anything a little awkward. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I—was.’

‘I... Yes. I, feel the same, though I do want to believe he’s actually gotten better’ Mig murmured sadly.

‘I’d like to believe it, but I’m also not stupid’ you snorted. The two of you briefly went quiet as a gaggle of spiders webbed past you down the lobby, before slowly drifting closer again.

‘We- are, very similar, you know’ Mig explained. ‘I told you, once, how our paths only diverged in life when we changed. He became, him, and I became… this. But before that we were… so, so similar. Almost identical.’

‘That change was a long time ago, though, right? Like, so long that you forgot what clothes feel like.'

Mig chuckled at your light teasing, but his brows remained tightly knotted. ‘Mm. Yes. But, it doesn’t change that we are, in many ways, the same person. He used that very fact to convince me that I’m a monster, to convince me to hide.’

You pursed your lips at the reminder.

‘So… If I don’t believe he can change, then, it… means he was right about me, too' he said. His voice was deeply sombre. 

‘Mig, that isn’t—I mean that isn’t entirely fair’ you said with an unsure shrug. ‘Like… Look, Miguel is a different person to you. I can see the argument that you were given the same, basic components at the start, right? But you're so different now. He's a.... dick, and you're... you! You're YOU! My Mig! The, most, perfect thing!' 

Mig chuckled again, looking almost shy at your praise. ‘Just- humour me, please. It is for my own benefit, not just for his. I have to believe I am not doomed to be a bad person, and, I want to believe he isn’t either’ Mig insisted.

You weren’t convinced, sadly, but you did relent. You held up your hands and smiled as you slapped them down on his furry abdomen. ‘Okay. I mean I’d like for him to get better too, believe me, God it would save me SO much hassle!’

Mig purred, and at last a smile broke out onto his face. His cheeks lifted as he chuckled. ‘Yes. Me too. He—’

‘You ready to go?!’

You and Mig turned in unison as Jess called from the other side of the lobby. She was waving one arm over her head with the other cupped her mouth to make the sound carry. You could see that she was standing beside an open portal. 

‘Shit… alright, time to go’ you said. You straightened out your suit and straightened his too, a motion he tried to return until you shooed him off.

‘No, no—I don’t need petting down, shh—I love you too. Right. You ready, Mig?’

He fixed his posture and nervously raised his claws. ‘Ah… yes. Yes. I am- ready to do, heroic activities. Yes’ he blurted in a fully monotone voice.

You buried your face in your palm. ‘Oh my god I love you so much you’re such a god damn dork—OKAY, lets go!’  

You tried to strike a pose like you were trained to do but almost immediately tripped, so instead you went straight into climbing Mig’s back so he could take the lead. It was easy to look majestic while riding your enormous spider partner.

You clung tight to his fur as he scurried forward, and dragged you both through the open portal into this new and unknown world.

…

On the other side you thankfully landed safely, with Miguel angling his paws to slow the impact. As you eyes adjusted you realized quickly that you were on the top of some enormous building, and so you hopped down from Mig’s back to see the view.

This world was strange, far stranger than either Miguel’s or Mig’s or your's. Before you was the full, shining vista of New York, but this one had been entirely drowned in enormous neon plants. You could see flower heads in the distance that looks like normal flower heads up close, implying that they must be the size of a house in their own right, blooming and fluttering on the side of a high rise building that'd broken in half and was now leaning on another. 

The sky above was also strange; it was red, darker on top and lighter as it drifted down towards the horizon, ending in a dull and foreboding pink beyond what the eye could see.

There was no sound. No cars, no people. Just the rustling of leaves in the wind.

You breathed in through your suit mask and turned to Mig. He was fixated on the red sky, his hand held out in front of his face.

‘You okay?’ you called up.

Mig nodded. ‘Yes… You- do you see these, particles, too?’ he asked. You followed his eyes and squinted at the air in front of your face. He was right. There were tiny, pink dots floating in the air, like dust particles, just barely viewable. You waved your hand and watched them bounce and dance as your fingers disrupted them.

‘Huh. Oh, weird. Yeah they um- they mentioned the pollen, it has... Like an overwhelming effect on anything with hormones. Aphrodisiac. Makes you lose it. It's why this worlds deserted now.’

‘Yes. I- believe we should leave here as soon as possible’ Mig said slowly. You didn’t argue.

You turned and leapt back up onto his back, digging your hands into his fur. You held on tight as he turned and descended the building via the stairway.

On a monitor in a dark and distant room, Miguel watched the blurry little figure of you and Mig strolled through the abandoned city. His eyes narrowed. ‘Go on’ he said, almost purring. ‘Go ahead. Fail, and then let me watch you get dragged out by your necks in a pathetic heap.’

The building was entirely empty, which made the sounds you heard all the more unnerving. You realized pretty quickly that the oversized plants filling the area would occasionally move, slithering across cracked windows and floors like great, fleshy, neon green snakes. The floors would creak like footsteps when no one was there, and occasionally you’d hear a low groaning as if the building itself was alive.

Mig began to walk slower so he could step over the vines. They hadn’t done anything violent, but, he’d rather be safe.

As you emerged out into the city from the ground the size of it became far more imposing. Seeing those giant flower buds from the top made them seem almost normal, but from the floor the shadow of that gaping botanical maw filling the sky made you feel utterly miniscule.

You drew your watch to your mouth and whispered into it. ‘Lyla- Lyla, have you got a hold on the guy who escaped?’

‘Yeeeppp.’

The little AI flashed up beside your head as Mig cautiously began to walk down the empty street. ‘You hopped in close. He’s been still for a while.’

‘Do you think he’s hurt?' 

‘Nah, I mean- maybe. But I doubt it’ Lyla said with a yawn.

‘Why do you doubt it?’ Mig asked. She flickered over to glance him up and down as he walked.

‘My god you’re big, it always surprises me- uhhh I said I DOUBT it because he was wearing his suit when he jumped in which should keep him safe from the pollen.’

‘Okay. What are we dealing with then? A vulture, a symbiote, a prowler?’

‘Prowler. He’ll be wearing his suit but I think we removed his weapons when we brought him in, so, should be easy.’

‘Huh… I wonder if Miguel gave us an easy one deliberately’ you pondered to yourself. It seemed unlikely, but, maybe it was intentional? Maybe he was changing. ‘Okay, uh- thanks Lyla, we’ll call if we need anything else.’

You shut your watch and gently tapped for Mig’s attention. You didn’t speak, but you silently gestured for where he needed to go. He nodded and crept towards the building Lyla had pointed at.

As you approached the bottom floor it was empty, with broken windows allowing easy access to the inner rooms. It was unnervingly dark inside. The sun was too high overheard to reach inside, leaving nothing but a faint red glow broaching the edge of the dirty, vines covered concrete before it descended into shadow.

You tapped your watch to create a small beam of light. You carefully scanned the room from side to side, your eyes squinting to see through the gloom.

It was quiet. Too quiet. You could hear water dripping somewhere but couldn’t find the source. As Mig went to enter the dark he rustled his abdomen, signalling for you to jump. You hopped to the floor and in unison you both ducked. Together, you began to do a wide circle of the space.

‘Hello?’ you called, your voice echoing. You faintly saw Mig rustle with discomfort at you speaking, so you gestured for him to continue instead.

‘Sir! We’re from the society’ Mig cried. ‘I know that you were- reluctant, to come with us, but you were at far more risk here.’

You were about halfway in now. You were descending into the thick of the vines.

‘This universe is abandoned. There is no way home without us. If you come quietly, we can—’

Midway through speaking the vines were suddenly cut right above your head, and in a flurry of chaotic movement and sound you were thrown across the room.

‘SHIT—HEY!’

The unseen opposition dived forward and pinned your newly downed body to the floor, choking it out against one of the vines. You squirmed and kicked but you’d been taken off guard too fast.

‘GIVE ME THE WATCH!’

A deep voice echoed from behind the attackers mask. Shit, you thought, this must be the guy.

‘GIVE ME THE—’

Just as he’d tackled you the Prowler variant was tackled by Mig. In a blur of red and black fur your partner barrelled across the room and hooked the smaller man by the nape, and with nothing more than the strength of his neck he threw him up into the ceiling and then back down to the floor.

A low moan filled the air as you scrambled to stand.

‘Oh…. Fuck.’ You coughed and spluttered as Mig prowled towards the downed man. His venom was glowing where it’d leaked down his jaw, its viscosity appearing neon green in the dark. He had his claws raised.

Back in Nueva, Miguel continued to watch. He had his arms folded, his body stiff and unmoving, his eyes unblinking.

He was waiting for it.

‘Fuck… urgh, okay, um—you got the light cage, babe?’ you asked. You were wheezing hard from being pinned, and while Mig should have focused on containing the man on the floor he couldn’t help but be drawn to you.

‘Mi arañita? Are you okay?’

As Mig turned you raised your hand. You were about to say yes, you were fine. You were about to comfort him and remind him of what you had to do.

You didn’t get the chance, though.

The Prowler collected himself too quickly, and in a blind panic he leapt up and released the claws on his suit. He dove at Mig, the most obvious threat, hoping to get in a stab from behind, but luckily his claws weren’t strong enough to pierce.

He latched onto Mig’s back and he instantly began rustling and bucking, his size allowing him to quickly detach the attacker. You hastily threw a web out to pin him down to the floor again.

‘SHIT- Shit, baby, did he get you?! Did he—’

You froze. Mig had turned in an attempt to feel the back of his suit, and now he was facing the opposite direction to you. He was showing you his back. He was showing you, clear as day, the enormous cut marks in the plastic hide.

Slowly, Mig stopped. His arms fell to his sides, and he rolled his head to stare at you over his shoulder. His eyes were glowing the most unnatural pink.

‘Mig?’ you stammered.

He grunted, hard, and suddenly seemed to go down. His legs began to shake as his hands flew to his head. ‘MM—MM—’

You felt your whole body go cold. You knew what the air in this universe did. You quickly rushed to try and grapple him, hoping to either pin him with your webs or patch up the suit, anything your frazzled mind could think of, but Mig was quickly losing control.

‘MIG! Mig, hey! Stay down—let me help—’

‘AH—’ His body rustled violently as he panted. It burned. It was the most unbearable heat he’d ever felt, seeping through his veins like literal fire. His started drooling venom into the inside of the suit, coating the seethrough plastic on the front. ‘RRH—’

On the other side of the multi-universe, Miguel snorted. He didn’t smile, nor did he show any kind of outward joy. He just snorted.

What a shame that Lyla hadn’t been told about that prowler’s suit still had its claws intact when it was taken in. Claws that, while not deadly, were capable of still ripping an important piece of fabric. A suit, perhaps.  

Now you’d let the man escape into a dangerous universe. You’d have to crawl back with your out of control boyfriend. He went to turn when a cry drew his attention back to the screen.

Mig, in his panic, had pushed you back across the room.

‘DON’T—DON’T COME NEAR ME’ he cried, ‘I CAN’T- HURT YOU—ARGH!’

Miguel frowned.

You were carefully shifting yourself up from the debris. You weren’t hurt, it hadn’t been a hard push, but just like the Prowler he hadn’t accounted for his own claws. They were painfully extended, viciously sharp on every end, and in just lightly pushing you with the last of his strength he’d ripped three big holes in your own suit.

You felt your heart thundering.

In a whimpering panic you tried to block the holes with your hand but it was too late. All too soon you felt the pollen in your nose, your brain, your blood, your body heating into overdrive. You were doubled over as if in physical pain as the urge curdled inside you.

‘MM—’

Miguel stared at the screen, his eye twitching just a little. No, wait, he’d planned for one person to be able to call for back up. He’d planned this out perfectly, hadn’t he? Why was this happening?

‘Argh… Mig…’

You mewled pathetically as you crawled across the floor. You were throbbing everywhere, lightheaded from the blood flowing where it wasn’t supposed to, your insides clenching and pulsing and squeezing around nothing to a point that left you breathless.

Mig was no better. He was digging his claws directly into the concrete in an attempt to stay sane, to stay alert, but it wasn’t working. He drooled pools of spit and venom onto the floor as he ripped his suit aside completely. He had to bite. He had to pin. He had to unload. He could think of nothing rational in that moment. ‘AH—AH---’

In the panic your target had also cut himself free from the web. Still suited, still sober, he watched you writhe with narrowed eyes. He approached, curious, and delivered one kick to your exposed gut. You went down hard but didn’t have the strength to get back up off the floor.

‘YOU-- ARGH!’

Mig dove at the man and nearly clawed him to pieces, but the impact of the sweet, thick, dizzying scent was making it hard to see or focus. He swung blindly, teeth snapping, as Prowler backed away.

On the floor you whimpered, unable to move an inch from the multi-faceted pain. 

‘Wait, wait, no—’  

As he watched Miguel felt his confidence beginning to slip. You’d call for backup, right? You would. Yo had to. 

He thought about rushing in, but, if he did that, you’d know he’d been watching. Wouldn’t that look suspicious? Plus, it would ruin his plan.

His plan… What, exactly, was that plan anyway, some little niggling part of his brain asked?

‘FUCK!’

Your cry drew Miguel back to the screen.

You were writhing on the floor as you struggled to breathe. You and Mig couldn’t even reach each other. He was now consumed by the primal, lustful urge to protect his mate, to fight an opponent, which was keeping him in the thralls of trying to spear your assailant on his claws.

No one had time to pull either of you out, and that Prowler was still hellbent on killing you both to protect himself.

‘No, no, no—’

The blurry image of your body on the floor began to distort. Miguel slammed the monitor but it just continued to fade.

He began to pant hard. He hadn’t wanted this. Not this. He just wanted Mig to fail his first mission, he never wanted anyone to get hurt. He’d just wanted an excuse to remove him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t. He’d planned it perfectly. This was supposed to work. It HAD to work. He was doing the right thing. He was smart, he was capable, he was rational—

Right?

The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned. Wait, but, he’d released that symbiote, hadn’t he? He’d jumped in the way, yes, but it could have caused Mig real harm. It could have caused you real harm.

‘Oh no’ he whispered. ‘No, no, no…’

One final, horrible thought filled his head: What was wrong with him?

‘Every day I have to fight to be good.’

His words to Peter rang in his head as he paced back and forth. How had he forgotten that? The simple reason, that he really hated his variant? Because he was broken. They were both broken. Both of them.

He swung back to the screen. He had to go, right? He had to go, he had to go and extract you and Mig.

All that anger, that resentment that he’d made righteous, it was fighting the one part of him that he clung to. The part that wanted to save you, no matter the cost. The part that was still good.

He told himself that this self-sacrificial nature, that was him. The REAL him. That was who he was beneath the dirt and the dust and the bitterness. But, no. As he stared at you clutching the floor, struggling to breathe, he knew it wasn’t.

It was all him.

‘Shit.’

Without wasting a second, without even grabbing a suit, Miguel pulled up a portal to that universe and dove in headfirst.

The pollen hit him like a physical punch to the gut. He felt it coiling around every hormone in his touch-starved body, pushing his brain into override. As he hit the road right before the store you were in he had to curl in on himself just to regain the ability to breath.

‘MM—Argh, fuck—come on—you’ve dealt with this before!’ he seethed.

With fangs dripping he clawed his way into the building. To his utmost relief he saw you almost instantly, still curled up on the floor.

‘COME ON!’ he barked. Miguel grabbed you under the arm and began to drag, though it was slow progress. He kept having to pause and bite his own hands in order to temper the unnatural urges filling his brain.

You were utterly useless at this point. Your body was limp in his grip, moaning and whimpering and shaking. ‘Mig.... My Mig—’

‘He’s… fuck—MIGUEL!’ He turned and screamed into the dark as the plants whipped and writhed.

Mig burst through the wall with a violent crack, his paws skidding on the ground. The person you’d been chasing was frantically scrambling to avoid his open seething maw and swinging claws, like a rabbit fleeing a wolf. With the last of his strength Miguel threw a light cage at the panicking Prowler before depoying a web at Mig’s legs, helping to at least stun him into stopping.

‘Ah… Okay, HERE! OVERE HERE! EXTRACTION!’ Miguel cried.

Mig jerked his head up so fast it snapped. He saw him holding your limp body and immediately his eyes dilated into slits. He hissed, spraying venom across the tiles.

‘I’M GETTING YOU OUT OF HERE!’

Miguel pulled up a portal and threw you into it before returning to grab the downed Prowler. He used it like a toy, lurning Mig up. The enormous man broke the webs around his legs with terrifying ease, and once back on his spider legs he stormed towards him.

Miguel led him straight through the portal at his back.

With a soft, otherworldly thwap, the portal disappeared. The world of plants was plunged into silence once more, and whatever chaos ensued, would ensue in Miguel’s office, back where it had all started.

Link to next part

[nnnyxie]

Hcs about the Rise boys with a younge rsister who is totally like nimona??

Punk music, always thinking about action, super into manipulating and robbery, whines every time one of the brothers knock out an enemy “how come you got to kill them??” <- an actual line from the movie- And basically yeah lol.

please and thank you so much!! Don’t forget to take breaks and take good care of yourself!!

okay so i haven’t watch nimona yet BUT i will do my absolute best at trying to embody her

(aka i did research and i’m praying it was enough)

raphael ;

your relationship with raph is so !!

you respect him so much— like seriously!!! when they first found you, you were very intimidated by him, which made you dislike him.

but overtime you realized he was just a softy that could get mean when needed.

and honestly?? you respected that.

it’s like with mikey— complete opposites but besties!!

you hold him on such a high pedestal, he’s kind of your idol (strength wise mainly).

he’s always saying ‘remember no killing!’ and ‘you cannot kill that guy for not liking your outfit!’.

he’s the cool older brother and you love him!!

donatello ;

now. you’d think that you and donnie would get along great considering you’re both yk… borderline murderers/psychopaths!

but… y’all fight ALL. THE. TIME.

it’s always over who gets to fight which person and who gets dibs on killing ‘knocking out’ said person.

poor raph ALWAYS has to break up your fights. the fights are to the point where it gets PHYSICAL.

BUUUT!! there are times where the two of you get along.

usually it’s when it’s super late and you both are very sleep deprived and running on 16 cups of coffee!

but hey, a win is a win i guess???

leonardo ;

urgh leo… i feel like this is a very one sided hateship (if that makes sense?).

like, you love hate him and his dumb, corny jokes but he adores you!! he adores his little sister!! he’ll shower you in affection like he does w/ the others!!

all the hugs, head-locks, knuckle rubs (i think that’s what they’re called), etc etc.

he just adores you and really doesn’t care if you want to curb stomp him into oblivion (don’t look up curb stomping, just know that it’s violent).

your relationship with him is almost like his and donnie’s except donnie doesn’t actually want to stab him sometimes.

thoughhhh there are times where you’ll show him some love, whether that’s in the form of not attacking him for a few days or silently laughing at one of his terrible one-liners.

michaelangelo ;

first of all—

you and mikey?? complete opposites but absolute besties!!

i feel like he’d see you try to do some dumb illegal shit but immediately go ‘no no no! let’s not do that!’ and pull you away—

he has to talk you out of a LOOOT of illegal things. like. A LOT.

one time you tried breaking into the empire state and almost killed a guard……… mikey thankfully followed you and stopped you!! (why did you try to break in? i haven’t the slightest clue!)

it just fits!!

you’d lay your life on the line for him!! honestly who wouldn’t??? just because he’s too good for this world doesn’t mean he should leave it!!

plus, you and doctor delicate touch are such a duo when need be.

OMG ALSO!!! i feel like you two would totally vibe to bratmobile, bikini kill, le tigre, jack off jill, & just so many riot grrl (fem led punk) bands!!!

y’all are just THE duo!!!!

pls i hope i got her personality correct dkgsldna

also!!! i hope you liked this :)

[catsushinyakajima]

I’m sitting by a trash can at the bus stop waiting for the bus for the past TWENTY minutes and I am also late to class (my own fault for going to the gym instead of heading to class early :/) SO ANYWAYS-

Voltron headcanons (realistic and college AU, also inspired by my own college misery):

- they’re all stem nerds. All of them. I know a lot of people HC them as liberal arts major which is great! but they are canonically astronauts (one part of canon that I like)

- Lance would be the kind of guy to be like “WE GOTTA HIT THE GYM EVERYDAY THIS SEMESTER RAHHHH” and then dip the second midterms start. Every single semester. Without fail.

- Keith found lectures useless since he could just “read the textbook”. He never showed up to a single class except for exams and somehow passed. He only stopped the habit when multiple friends scolded him for it.

- Coran would be in twenty different clubs. Correction: he would be PRESIDENT of twenty different clubs. No one knows when he joined them. The clubs range from archery to competitive coding to mental health awareness. (“Hey Coran are u free tonight?” “No sorry, the Roleplaying Ancient Romans club is having a bake sale tonight” “the what-)

- hunk would do a LOT of volunteering. He’s probably cook for shelters but I can also see him tutoring underprivileged kids in engineering :)

- Pidge would have a surprising amount of school spirit. Not bc she likes the college or the sport. She just wants to hate on the other teams. Also if her tuition is going to the football coach’s salary, she might as well be passionate about it.

- Allura is a triple major. Maybe even a quadruple major?? She’s the girl you see constantly stressing about their schedule. “Okay so should I take this class…that makes me have eight classes total all back to back” “WHAT” “what if I did a minor in psychology?” “Allura how tf are you going to fit that in there”

- Shiro is a TA (teaching assistant) for calculus or physics or something. Because the world hates him it’s an eight am class where the professor teaches wrong content and then dumps twenty hours of grading on him. “So you find the derivative under the curve” “Professor that’s not-“ You will never see him without a coffee.

- Hunk has beef with the Dining halls. They don’t season their food and they don’t even have much to begin with. On the other hand, Lance practically lives there. He’s making the most of the meal plans he paid for.

- At least he sticks to tastier things. Keith, who also practically lives at the dining hall, will eat salt and pepper chicken four times a day (“it’s protein”)

- it’s how Keith and Lance have had most of their meals together. Notably, also alone.

- aside from living at the dining hall, Keith also lives at the gym. This explains why he’s never at class.

- pidge has a car on campus. It’s Matt’s car or whatever. Not only can she not park for her life, she also can’t stop getting parking tickets. She uses the tickets as wall decor for her dorm.

- Lance skateboards. He’s pretty good at it. He’s only fallen twice, and both times had been in extremely public settings. Once was in front of a bus stop with fifty people. He tried teaching Coran how to skate and Coran accidentally slipped and launched the board towards the main road.

- Pidge plays clash royale in class. Shiro roasts her for it but then secretly also plays word games in class

- on top of having four majors, Allura also has four internships??? Everytime she posts about something that seems relaxing, it’s misleading. She’ll post herself getting drinks and SIKE it’s a networking event. She’ll be going hiking SIKE it’s a colleague bonding trip. Girl cannot take a break.

- Keith hates frats. Even educational ones with job opportunities. Even if he knows all frat boys aren’t shitty, he refuses to budge on his stance

- Shiro is the kind of guy you’d be talking to and ten people come up to him to say hi. Everyone knows him. Even if he doesn’t know them.

[nose-nippin-fun]

Hazbin Hotel Episode 4 Discussion:

I’ve seen a lot of nasty posts floating around today criticizing Vivzie and the show. I’m not here to discredit your feelings, but I think that the darker tone of episode 4 merits some constructive discussion beyond a knee-jerk, pearl-clutching reaction.

From what I’ve seen, the biggest complaint from viewers, myself included, is that this emotional episode with some fairly intense depictions of SA/r*pe was not prefaced with a content warning aside from the usual small text in the top left corner. I truly do believe Amazon should correct this going forward so that viewers can feel better prepared for tone shifts between episodes. That being said, here are my defenses of the show.

Hazbin Hotel has had a huge fan following since the pilot release back in 2019, which set the tone of the show. Between the pilot and Addict music video, people had a pretty clear indication of the adult themes that would be present in the project moving forward. The show is set in Hell, the place where the world’s worst sinners are trapped in the afterlife. This is not an excuse, this is an explanation. There are going to be several characters with tainted morality, some of whom are irredeemable. That’s why they’re in Hell. This show is not meant to glorify sins, but to shine a light on flawed, relatable characters who will grapple with ethics and other struggles and come out changed in the end.

“I can’t believe Angel doesn’t leave his situation and stays stagnant.” Have you ever lived through/witnessed abuse? It is never this easy to sever ties with an abuser. They position themselves in power to control and manipulate, and many times, it’s not physically safe to get away from them. Also, this has been ONE EPISODE, you cannot expect a character with deep trauma to be totally different after a 20-30 minute episode. Angel’s character arc will take time, but his interaction with Husk at the end is an important first step in that direction.

“So Angel is supposed to just get over his trauma because he and Husk sang a song about it?” No. If that was your takeaway, I’m truly sorry you missed the point. Husk is the only person who’s been raw and blunt with Angel (on screen) about dropping the Angel Dust persona and being Anthony. Angel is used to having to put on a flawless, sexy act at all times, so much so that that’s how people really believe he is at all times. Husk sees through this mask Angel developed to protect himself and tell him through their song that imperfect and broken as he feels, Angel isn’t alone in struggling with feelings of powerlessness and addiction. He’s not comparing his loss of overlord status to Angel’s horrible SA, he’s finding common ground and empathizing (the best way a Hellbound soul can). This song wasn’t a solution, it was a gateway to vulnerability and the beginning of change for both characters.

“We’re expected to just ship Huskerdust after Angel has done nothing but sexually harass and push Husk’s boundaries?” No. That’s absolutely the wrong reason to ship anything. While it’s true that in the first three episodes, Angel sees Husk as eye candy who might be able to distract him from his suffering, episode 4 brings a necessary shift in their dynamic. Angel is used to everyone around him wanting Angel Dust, the pornstar. But for the first time, someone doesn’t want that coveted persona, and he can’t comprehend this. Angel has no control over anything except the act he keeps up, so he clings to it as a false sense of power. It’s only after Husk tells him that he likes Angel for everything he is off camera that Angel starts to treat Husk with respect, which will pave the way for any future Huskerdust shipping.

You don’t have to agree with what I’ve written, and I absolutely don’t blame you if you’ve realized this show is not content you can comfortably consume, but please understand that depicting difficult material is not the same as glorifying or excusing it. This episode was hard for me too, because I care about Angel Dust, and I am so eager to watch his growth as the show continues. My heart goes out to anyone struggling from triggering this episode caused. I hope you’re able to safely navigate away from this show while respecting the viewers who continue to watch.