#fuck sanity. i've always been fine.

[pokenoiretoleratestoxicxyhate]

pokenoire tolerates toxic xy hate

What’s with that one account reblogging everything you post??? XY hate???? Dude I don’t even go here (not in the Pokémon fandom)

Just don't try to go in or talk to him, he'll sppamimg you. It's nothing, I don't really care, leave him talking alone LMAO

I was going to leave him talking to himself but anyway, I just laughed a little

XY and XYZ it's a controversial season, either people love it SO STRONGLY to the point of not accepting criticism or they MASSIVELY criticize the show as if it's OOC and ruined the entire show forever

There are people who are halfway there and agree with everything. So the guy's sanity is ruined LMAO

I don't really care about him. But if it bothers you, it's best not to get involved.

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 5: Rimming

Choi Soobin x male reader

This guy

Stuff: Rimming DUH, some balls licking, you and Soobin are friends.

Word Count: 969

Notes: Happy birthday Soobin, please feel better soon

Soobin is like your best friend. You two get along incredibly well together and whenever you're around him it's always a good time, this hangout is just 'extra' special.

Right now, you both are just lying on your bed chilling. Having casual conversation while he's cuddled up to you all snuggled in, his head resting on your chest while you absentmindedly run your hand through his hair as you watch the TV. Friends stuff, dude boy shit.

"I'm kind of bored." He expressed into your chest, making his deep voice come out as groggy.

"Oh? What else would you rather do? Wait, don't answer that, you'll probably say something like blow me or rim me." You said jokingly, you guys did make an awful lot of sex jokes to each other. For two openly gay men who aren't actually dating to do this is... a little odd.

"Rimming you say..." He responds, jokingly putting his finger under his chin, as if he's actually considering it. Which he's not... right?

"Don't get any ideas Soo, I know my pussy is the bomb, but it'd ruin our friendship." You scolded him.

He takes his head off your chest and stands straight up, looking you dead in the eye.

"Come on Y/n... we're both attractive, both gay, both sexually active, and you have an ass that I've been wanting to dive into since the day I met you." He told you, his tone completely sincere, but he can't actually be considering this, can he? This bitch.

"Well yeah... but-" Before you can finish, Soobin cuts you off with a kiss, one that though unexpected, you instantly melt into and kiss him back.

You put your hand in the back of his head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Soobin rests his tongue directly on your lip, begging for entrance, which of course you offer. Man... you're kind of easy.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours, sliding and clashing with yours until he comes out victorious. The kiss is incredibly overwhelming, and it leaves you to pull back to catch your breath, thoughts, and sanity.

"No, don't pull away..." He said all whiny, giving you a pouty face with his bottom lip quivering, but his smile returns once he remembers the subject you two were discussing before the kiss.

"You can't just kiss me like that! I mean it was really good but still!" You loudly told him, your face in a deep blush and completely flushed from his kiss.

"Yeah yeah yeah, Can I rim you now?" He asked casually, totally ignoring your little rant at him.

You just sigh, realizing how much him, and you, both want this. So, you simply respond with a defeated but also excited, "Fine..."

Soobin goes right to work, manhandling you into place on your hands and knees and pulling your pants and underwear down to reveal your puckered hole to him.

The speed in which he does this is enough to give you whiplash, but you go along with it. Afterall, having a man with lips as good as his to eat your ass isn't exactly undesirable.

Once your pants are off and your hole is winking up at him, he dives right into it, taking a long lick along your ass, doing this multiple times until your crack is completely wet with his saliva.

"Fuck, it's already delicious." He said breathlessly.

Once Soobin has done that, takes a few more long licks with his tongue but this time, he gets your balls in there. Licking all the way from your balls to the top of your crack, giving them a little suck from here to there.

He assumes you're ready enough, so he goes right in, diving his tongue into your anus.

You let out a shrieked moan, which he responds with a little chuckle while his tongue is buried in your asshole, sending the most delightful shiver of pleasure to run up your spine.

He licks the hole, inserting his tongue in and out with every stroke of his tongue. He enjoys pleasuring you but it's also clear that he just really loves eating your ass. The way his tongue almost adoringly inserts itself inside you is absolutely orgasm worthy.

"You're so fucking delicious Y/n, new favorite meal." He let out into your ass, the vibrations sending more delightful shivers.

He inserts his hole tongue inside you, pushing the wet muscle in and out of your asshole, making your moan in what can only be described as, like a fucking homo.

Thank god you've rushed because this bitch is getting IN there. Soobin is fucking you with his tongue in the best way. He clearly knows and enjoys what he's doing, which you can tell from the way he moans into your asshole.

He pushes his tongue in and out faster, making your moans louder and your cock leak even more onto the bed. His hands tightly grip your ass cheeks, pulling your asshole even closer to his face, allowing his tongue to reach unfound heights, also allowing your moans to reach unfound decibels.

"Fuck Soo! I'm so close!" You moan out loudly. Soobin simply responds by doubling his efforts, somehow pushing his tongue in even deeper, even lightly touching your prostate.

That's more than enough to make you ejaculate all over the bed, shooting your cum and near covering the sheets. Soobin tongue fucks you through it until you're finally spent.

You collapse on the bed, none of your body being able to work after such a heart stopping orgasm. Soobin laughs lightly as he wraps his arms around you, cuddling you from behind.

"You eat ass like a pro." You started breathlessly.

"It's hard not to when an ass tastes as good as yours."

THE END

[edgeray]

Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔  Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth? 

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content. 

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling. 

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time. 

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched. 

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino. 

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.  

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. 

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm? 

It's warm. 

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms. 

— 

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House. 

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty. 

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone? 

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet. 

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud. 

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial. 

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so. 

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply. 

Arlecchino feels cold. 

[n3ptoonz]

Part 2 of MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them, please? 😊

i mean i GUESS i can do that 🤭 since you asked so nicely! part one here

how liu kang, reiko, sub-zero, havik, johnny cage, scorpion, and geras go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

just know it may not show the long pauses i took while writing this but know IT HAPPENED!! THE THINGS I DO FOR YALL🫵🏾don't say i never did none😫

havik's regeneration mentioned. i've also been told havik looks like that on purpose so like, let's act like he can make his face go back to where it was for the sake of shits, giggles, and pandering XD

tags: @luna18night20 @momopad

warnings: suggestive, fluff elements, sphinx tried her best, there will not be a part 3 im sorry y'all 💔 BUT shao and kenshi are here

Liu Kang

Liu Kang was rarely ever rough with you. In fact, the only way he'd do it is if you either verbally say it's fine, or if he knows you're poking the bear just to get a reaction. And when you get a reaction...there's no going back. You've kissed with your back to the wall several times, and every time was gentle and loving and laced with care. However, if you've presented that you were that desperate for him to give you the attention you deserve, he will gladly be a little rougher in pushing you back with his lips on yours. Just be prepared for him to leave some handprints on your waist.

Reiko

Reiko is a warrior. Hardened by battle and discipline, so the way he kisses you usually starts off that way. He can't help it. Not only is it the way he was raised and what he was told a man is "supposed to be", but it also came with how his partners were to be treated. When it came to you his sense of duty and protection spiked every single time. So here you were, well within his unintentional bear hug as your back was against the wall. His kisses always started off like he was going away to war/fight (because he usually was) but he would eventually melt and become smoother because you're by his side.

Sub-Zero

Bi-Han, a truly complex character. I believe that whoever captures his heart will be the main obsession in his life. In this case, it is you. He constantly needs to be on you, around you, see you, hear you, you name it. He can't get enough of your lips and this is especially apparent the way he's almost always pushing you to the wall while kissing you. Can we blame him? He's a tall hunk of touch-starved and the only thing that will satiate that hunger is roughly making out with you every chance he gets all while still knowing how to treat you like a porcelain antique.

Havik

Havik...this guy. Even though I'm pretty sure it's not canon I still feel like he'd regenerate and degenerate for fun and for different purposes/occasions. For the sake of my sanity I can say I found him fine as hell before his face got fucked up, and so did you. But you don't mind him either way because you love his crazy ass. Allow me to set the scene: You say something snappy to get his attention and boom...he regenerates his facial wounds just to back you against the wall and shut you up with pure smugness and arrogance behind his kiss. But, this is what you wanted, nonetheless. And you'd do it again!

Johnny Cage

Who's to say Johnny Cage wouldn't try to get you in one of his films just so he could keep getting takes of him backing you to a wall and kissing you? For Elder God's sakes, he's the one who wrote the script! And of course it's something dramatic like him being a villain that captures the hero and tries to convince them to ditch their position to be with him. Dude would totally think he's Loki (did i say that bc i think it would be hot if Loki did that to me? ..don't worry about it!) He's for sure fucking up his takes on purpose and you know this, but you only pretend to be irritated and maybe even fuck up a few yourself.

Scorpion

Kuai Liang, the romantic this man is. Like Liu Kang, he's never rough with you. Except it would take a little more convincing to let him know it's fine for him to act on his feelings when he wants to. With him, his kisses are slow and gentle. They will always start off like that even if he has a hard day. All he wants is to hold you, but it's like whenever your back hits the wall a gear starts turning in his brain. The idea of you having nowhere to go and enjoying it? Not even an Elder God is pulling him from your embrace. He gets handsy and a lot more affectionate around this time; he's kissing your face, neck, and shoulders too, because why the hell not?

Geras

Geras is a special case. He's an immortal who has never experienced romantic love before. So naturally you will have to teach him some things and even point out things he has observed that can be taken as romantic love. But he's still a man who has seen a lot, so this guy knows what kissing is and how to kiss. Surely you didn't think this giant fine ass immortal being didn't know how to treat his partner? Crazy talk! Understand that when you introduce the classic wall kiss by showing him what to do, he's leaning in to kiss you as he lifts you in his arms with no effort to be found and there won't be kissing going on much longer!

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed! collapses onto the ground

[callmehopeless]

A Recounting Of Moments

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

AO3 LINK | OR BELOW THE CUT

Plot: Ominis Gaunt gives MC cunnilingus. No other plot. It's just horny, man. (Below the cut because 18+)

Word Count: 1,500

He's loved her since those very first days.

Since the threads of him first tangled with the threads of her - tentative. A curious meeting outside of the Undercroft; he was angry, then, at the intrusion of the thing. It felt like the twisting knife that curled in his heart, and he was blinded (if you'll forgive him that one) by a rage too thick to see through.

It's always been the three of them, you see.

Sebastian, and Anne, and Ominis. A triad of troublemakers; or friends, at the least of it. Three people who have trusted eachother, beyond all recognition. Beyond sense, or sanity, or any which ways you turn the dial.

But then there was her.

Oh, Merlin--he never expected this.

It's the way she kisses him. The way her lips press to his that makes him drunk on it; on the madness that can barely be contained in him. Ominis Gaunt has grown around the madness: a pox of his family, and he's the pox on that, too. Stains upon stains, until you become lost in the fabric of an addled tapestry that doesn't make you a Gaunt. Doesn't make you anything else, either - but he's not sure where he fits, anymore.

Between her lips, though: he fits there just fine.

He thinks he'd like to stay there forever. Build a home in the space between those places; write poetic lines right into the cords of her throat. Tell her she's magical; tell her she's shaking the very fabric of him into misery and madness, just by the way her back arches against this window.

He shouldn't be fucking her here.

But he's fucking her all the same.

Not yet: not quite. But his lips drag up her ankle: her back pressed against the window of the Common Room like it's solid enough to support the way their souls vibrate. He can feel the way she's trembling against it; how the water pushes and pulls against the glass as she hitches her skirt, and Ominis Gaunt is lost in kissing upward. Upward, inch by inch: as slowly as one can kiss, when all is said and done.

"You don't know, do you?" he asks her, between smattered promises on her skin, "don't know what I've held back from doing to you all day?"

Of course she doesn't.

If she did - she'd hardly be threading her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails over his scalp like this. She'd be shredding her voice on his name; aching, wild: she'd be tearing the tapestries from the walls with screams of his name. There's a strength to the thoughts he's brimming with: too deep and dark to explain to her, in the heat of this moment.

"Tell me," she begs him, and it drips like honey. Right down his spine; right over the fabric of his clothes. Drenches him.

He kisses up towards her knee, now. Sucks a kiss on the inside of her right one, pulling it just up over his shoulder. His hands thread higher to the curves of her; he can see her in perfect detail like this. The way she'd fill a uniform to perfection. Fill a skirt to absolution.

Fit around him like she was made to.

Perhaps that's too crass of him. Filth and dirt: not befitting a man of his station.

Ominis cares little for it.

He cares for the way gooseflesh pricks under his fingers, though. And that's far more real than any suppositions might be.

"First," he tells her, his voice husky in his throat, "I thought of you at breakfast. Sitting in my lap. The way you like to put those delicate lips to my neck."

He tells her it without any need to compose himself: he's already lost in her. His trousers are too tight, when he kisses upward. Bites, a little bit, at her left leg first. He moves to the right to give it equal attention, and his nails dig crescents ever so gently against the outside of her thigh. She intakes sharply; a lungful of air that feels almost reverent.

"Go on," she implores, and he feels rather lost in it all.

"Then; Charms."

Ominis lets his breath flutter on her as he moves upward; it's warmer, here. Softer. The skin is tender and untouched by anyone but him - he's maddened by the salty taste of the sweat against his lips.

"You held that wand deftly," he feels almost wild, now. His cock throbs in his trousers; spitting. Spilling. "Agony. All agony. You're a vision; and I wish your hands had been on me in much the same way."

He can feel her heartbeat in her thigh, and it's enough to bring him further into a deep, agonising place.

Merlin; but this worship is better than what his body craves.

To show her what this is is bliss in of itself. The denial is half of the prize: a man earns his keep, after all.

"I wish I had, now." Her voice cracks on the last word; his nails drag on the inside of her thighs, and there is no fabric to bar him at all.

"At dinner," he swallows, desperate for air, "I craved only this."

I craved only you.

He thinks he says it in English, at first. But there's a brilliant tremble to her body as he breathes it, so close to the wet heat of her - and it's not English at all. It's a hiss, and a flick of the tongue; the language of snakes, and a blessed relief to finally let free from himself. Like a breath he's been holding for far too long; he feels the tip of his tongue ache with the sound of it.

Or, perhaps, the desire to taste her.

She's trembling beneath his touch, and Ominis can barely contain it, as he kneels in blissful reverence before her. He's never been one for sermons, but it feels like something of a pledge; a promise, and a hymnal, and a tempestuous force from his lungs that wants to swallow him whole.

She whimpers at the touch, and he nibbles just so.

"Ominis," she begs, her pulse fluttering, "please. Please."

Ominis Gaunt is many things.

But no - he will never deny her this.

So his mouth creeps upward; lips parted, teeth nibbling. Gentle and slow, as he feels the fabric of her skirt against the nape of his neck. He breathes in the scent of her, and it makes him just about mad with the promise of the whole bloody thing.

"Oh; you have no idea how delicious you are, do you?"

She can't ever know.

There are no words for it. None he knows; none that matter. None that would make sense  - not to him, not to her, nor to anyone. But his nails grab at the curve of her: higher, feeling the flesh ooze around his fingernails, and he's no longer a devout follower.

He's a reverent, repentant sinner.

His tongue comes first - stretches out. The tip of it is ever so gentle: he wants and wants, begging for a taste of her as though it'll cure every ill in his body. Maps her with his hands; but his tongue is the true vision of the peace. When he finds her; she trembles with a whine, and Ominis wishes he were a stronger man.

He isn't. No man is this strong.

He buries his face into her cunt: presses his lips to it in absolute, agonizing want. The feeling is ecstasy; the taste is madness. Keening, pure absolution - incomprehensible, in all that it is.

His groan is loud enough to wake half the Common Room; but that's half of the daring of it.

The other half is deep within her; and he'll gladly lick it out. Spread the flat of his tongue clean against her, until she's writhing and wild against his face; fisting his hair and begging with his name upon her lips.

He's loved her all along, after all.

[dualogical]

Quiet remembers things in MoC. He remembers everything else, that is.

"Shit! Shit! What the hell was that? Who are we? What are we doing?" That was Paranoid, too tense to the point of looping back into distracted. He had heard all that before. When?

"There was a Princess, I think. It’s all so fuzzy. It hurts when I try to remember." Broken, living up to his name, even though there was another way, even though it didn't have to be like this-

'Not a Princess. The Shifting Mound.' He corrected, mind starting to reel with the information.

Collective confusion for half a second, shattered by the Narrator, of all things.

'Where have you heard that name?!'

He -- Quiet, he remembered that now -- tried to ignore the echo in his head.

'You jump to one of the floating trees and make yourself comfortable in the exposed base-- Really?! I don’t know how you came across that name, but you're here to slay the Princess who will end the world!'

"She can wait a few more minutes,' his voices needed, deserved the break, even without the memories threatening to overwhelm him. 'How about we rest here for a bit when nothing's chasing us?'

"Decider, we’re supposed to let her out. It’s really the only way this works out for us, if you think about it. She’s the one with power here. Nobody else can do much of anything," and that was Opportunist, beaten down by one of the cruelest iterations of Her.

They went quiet. Maybe they were seeing everything too.

This was far less one-way than it seemed. If he focused inward, if he let his eyes drift shut and dreamed, he could feel the tiny jerks and tugs of his Voices acting on him, and...

Even Cold, too regular to be noticed unless he actually focused, lost to sensory fatigue. Creeping up on him like ice.

A wave of memories assaulted him. His actual identity, the Princess', the one path when it seemed like Cold, not Hero, had nested close to his heart.

"So you did listen to me," Cold’s voice was usually monotone and deceptive in its softness, but approval was something Quiet had never expected from him.

"And he was miserable for it!" Smitten seemed to have regained life at the novelty, at the realization that the eternity of torture that they had suffered could pass. "Whatever vision that was, please don't let it come to pass!"

"How could you call that being unfeeling?" Hunted asked, "There was so much fear."

"You wrestled control away from everyone. Impressive," Opportunist said. "Good thing I've always been on your side. We can turn this around, aren’t we a God?"

As if karma had decided to fuck that voice over in particular, what they saw next was betrayal, in different ways.

Opportunist, Broken, Smitten. With more or less intent, but still.

"Are Icy, Loudmouth and I the only ones who didn't think the decider was a puppet out of the blue?! What's wrong with all of you?!" Stubborn, coming to his defense.

They kept coming. Eating and being eaten. Betrayal and being betrayed in turn. Submission and rebellion. Love turning sour. Pain for the sake of it. A cycle of pain that he kept perpetuating by choosing to go back go the beginning. But this construct had cracks, in the end. All those memories were a consequence of it.

It was his fault. It was his mistakes and failures that destroyed everything again.

And then the visions that, he knew, could come to pass someday.

Hero getting him to the Heart and they left as mortals, with him choosing to stay behind.

Killing Transformation and exploring a world with his Voices, always together. Or reaping the consequences of his actions. Hero was the most disturbed by that one, for some reason.

Quiet accepting Her request to leave as Gods and-

They reeled as the vision simply stopped being something their minds could interpret. Quiet felt a part of what he called his sanity crumble. Paranoid seemed fine.

'Enough data for you, detective?' he couldn’t help but ask, memories too fresh considering Skeptic’s metaphorical flinch.

"You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you?" Contrarian was uncharacteristically subdued, but having several lifetimes' worth of memories would make anyone slow down and process.

The question remained, now that they knew, what would they do with that information?

[crying-fantasies]

Hiii! Sorry if I keep sending you more ask-

I was wondering what if Mayhem accidentally got transported into the TFP universe? (Considering it's the Idw comics, anything wacky is possible 😭)

How will Soundwave from that universe react to Mayhem? And will Mayhem react to his 'dad'?

Thanks for the ask! Sorry for being so late.

In reality this could go down in many different ways.

TFP Soundwave, as far as I've seen him, holds Laserbeak as his own last shard of sanity, maybe in the past he had all of them and, well, the gladiator pits, the war, that little drone is all he has left, I don't know if in TFP the concept of sparkling or new sparks exist like it does on BV or this AU, but maybe Laserbeak was someone like that for him.

Having that in mind, as in by some fucked up chain of events (as in having Sunset near with his inherited bad and absurd luck), Mayhem were to fall in any other universe (because after the whole Brainstorm-made-a-time-machine-and-teared-the-whole-reality-apart well, now we have a multiverse!) you can bet that first and foremost Soundwave, as in the one in this reality, will tear even more the barriers between realities to have his sparkling back.

Meanwhile TFP Soundwave looks at the sparkling with a big interrogation mark on his visor, because where did he come from? How come his bio signature is so similar to his but he can't pinpoint from where, or what, the other part has come? How old is him? Depending of such, if Mayhem is still a newly forged mech then you can bet TFP Soundwave will guard him like a jealous mother (in that phase they aren't different from human babies), no one can look at such delicate little sparkle of joy, if Megatron asks nicely and is obviously in his right mind maybe he would consider it, if Mayhem was already an operative mech it would be so much difficult to hide him, and he has to drag him back more than once when he tries to reach the autobots, Mayhem has learned a lot from his sire back in his own reality, to this point everyone knows about him, the vehicons know better than stop him because he can only get so far before a pair of tentacles catch and drag him back again, no matter that his sharp digits claw at the ground, once back inside he is given a portion of energon to please be calm.

He would never let him interact with Starscream by obvious reasons, maybe Breakdown can talk more comfortable with him, but absolutely no permission to talk or interact or even be in the presence of Shockwave or Knockout, Soundwave doesn't like their look of "science" when they look at Mayhem.

Now with SG Soundwave, believe it or not, Mayhem feels even more horrified by different reasons, all his life his sire, his father, has always been taciturn, quiet, maybe a little gloomy, but overall he always thrived in his affection, while not so big like he has seen with other families, he knows his father loves him with little things.

SG Soundwave makes him sputter with his headband and overall colors, the way he talks and moves are so unnatural that make him feel itchy, but above all else what gets him totally out of his zone is that SG Soundwave makes a quick scanner at him, processes the data in two clicks, and soon tackles him down with a hug calling him "my baby".

In the SG universe they know of different realities thanks to Cliffjumper, and SG Soundwave has to recompose himself a moment and let go of the young mech, there is paint transfer in both of them due to the obvious crash.

If TFP Soundwave was creepy to Mayhem, he can't even start to describe SG Soundwave, but he does recognize him as creepy in his own way.

Obviously this is the most talkative Soundwave, "How many centuries are you? Have you been well from where you come from? Are you a medic? So proud! Do your do my young mech! Did you came from the hotspot in Kaon like me? If you didn't that's fine too!"

And obviously so, this Soundwave gets on the slightly different wavelength Mayhem does, "Do you have a sire? A carrier? Did I've you alone?" as he shows every other righteous decepticon the young mech, Mayhem has never seen other decepticons so fast and easy, they look happy to see him, totally different from his reality, "Such a handsome young lad!", somebot says, and SG Soundwave is quick to answer: "Sure is! Bet he got it from his other mentor!" as his visor shines green with absolute glee, the questions previously done return and Mayhem doesn't know if he should mangle this reality and tell him, he decided not to, because everything is backwards here, what if you are different too?

Mayhem doesn't want to answer, and he gets another cybertronian equivalent of aneurism when he meets the cassettes of this reality, at least he got to meet SG Ravage, because he never meet the one of his reality, never had the chance.

SG Soundwave is maybe the only one to help him return to his reality, retracting his battle mask to give a little peck on his helm, "Take care of you and the fam', Lil' doc".

Once Mayhem is safely returned, SG Soundwave makes a bee line to you, who seems to have a very bad day or your usual sour and tired expression is somehow worse, drinking some kind of human beverage to keep your sanity intact, but every ounce of sanity it's throw out of the window when he sits next to you, hands together as if he is begging or praying, your coffee is dripping from your mouth as he says "I wanna've your sparkling, my amor", because he recognized the wavelength of Mayhem's spark mimicking the one of a human, a human he knows very well.

Flatline has to come and help you as your coffee goes down the wrong way, Soundwave has this idea on his helm and nothing, nothing,will take it away.

Your destiny is sealed as Megatron looks at you helplessly, maybe you have a reason to date Soundwave now.

[dr-spectre]

also it's a random thing but I've realized people have been using brainwashed wrong too

Brainwashing has nothing to do with actually mind controlling people and has everything to do with propaganda. And being told it constantly

For context -

<- the actual definition of doing something

if we use this definition instead of how literally everyone uses it (ie. It's just a replacement for mind controlled)

Then honestly callie being "brainwashed" makes more logically sense if you treat the hypnoshades as consistently feeding her propaganda. It's not literally taking over her mind she's literally probably being played octavios music tbh

Because it's canonically a thing that octavio uses music for propaganda

TLDR: even by LITERAL INSISTENCE INKIPEDIA DEFINITIONS that she id "brainwashed and mind controlled", she can not be mind controlled. Realistically if Callie was brainwashed that means she was just fed propaganda about Octarian.

So people can't argue that she was forced into that outfit she wears in splatoon 2 still because she probably chose to wear it maybe as a strange solidarity idea. It's not about being forced to wear something... Like that. It's wearing a uniform.

Uh that tldr is too long:

Etldr: callie can't be mind controlled no matter how much people insist, brainwashing literally is about propaganda and not "oh no my memories are lost I can't feel ::((("

You literally cannot force her to not have autonomy no matter if it's "brainwashing vs hypnosis"

It's NOT MIND CONTROLLL 😭😭😭😭

o god this is super long

I actually got a comment that was VERY similar to this!!! Someone (I forgot who) said, "I'm gonna think of cult brainwashing instead of sci-fi brainwashing for callie for my own sanity."

From my knowledge, the term brainwashing has always been this general term to describe mind control plots and shit like that and people use it poorly and wrongly. And THAT'S where my anger comes from. Because people wanna make Callie's arc in Splatoon 2 way worse, more disgusting and less interesting. It's so SOOOOO annoying and disregards any sort of arc that Callie could go through....

The word is either used in cults, or military experiments, or family drama of "you're brainwashing my child!" Or sci fi lazy bullshit where it's just "mind control and you lose all of your autonomy and memories" aka Winter Soldier, Widowmaker, etc. It's such a general term that has a trillion different meanings and it's fucking frustrating as hell.

If I try to look at Callie’s story through the lens of "standard" brainwashing where it's just psychological manipulation and propaganda from the Octarians and Octavio, considering that he is known to use music and other things as motivation to boost Octarians.... then... I actually wouldn't have a problem with people using that word... maybe...

Because Callie STILL had some amount of agency and autonomy, even with the shades on, she couldn't have been forced to do anything against her will cause of how hypnosis works. She still heard out the Octarians and listened to their propaganda. Was Octavio still in the wrong? Yeah! DUHHHH!!! NO FUCKING SHIT SHERLOCK!!! HE MANIPULATED A MENTALLY ILL SQUID WOMAN!!! YOU THINK IM RESOLVING THAT MAN OF BLAME?!?! FUCK NO!!! But in that scenario it's WAYYYY LESS EVIL than what the fuck people and Nintendo tried to suggest that they did. I dont wanna believe that Octavio immediately grabbed and then "brainwashed" Callie with the shades after she said "okay fine I'll hear you out." And then "kidnapped" her and her memories were wiped... Ugh. (Fucking Nintendo bro god I hate them...)

It would also help explain WHY she doesn't feel any sort of trauma or suffering from those events and why she finds the Octarians cute and why she went with Octavio to the Low Water party. She probably felt sorry for the Octarians and wanted to help them willingly because her life beforehand was shitty and she was alone... Octavio probably didn't need to do much to convince her, too, which is kinda sad... She probably doesn't feel regret or pain because, well, she was going through a rough period and she wanted an escape, so the Octarians, in her mind, were the only way out...

However.... I can't see that word the same anymore, and every time that I see it, I ALWAYS think of the bullshit sci-fi definition and people just LOVEEEE TO USE IT AS A CATCH ALL TERM!!!! IT'S REALLY REALLYYYYYY ANNOYING!!!!

That word has actually caused me physical reactions when I hear it, like I was in a family dinner and one of my parents used that word and like... I fucking tensed up and felt stinging across my entire body, my heart was pounding and stuff. NO THAT ISNT A JOKE! THATS HOW FIXATED I AM ON THE STUPID SQUID LADY!!!!

Idk if I will be able to comfortably use the word "brainwashing" to describe Hypno Callie because that word has been fully engrained to me as the sci fi. one, rather than the general cult one with more autonomy and more room to dive into depth and character change.

I guess you could say that Nintendo have... BRAINWASHED me into believing that the word is only used as a way to say mind control and "oh no I lost all of my memories!!!" Heh... Heh... eh.... I wanna die.

I fucking hate Nintendo bro. I hate them. So much.

Oh Nintendo, when I find you I swear to go-

[qqueenofhades]

would you ever write a modern/no-powers au for dreamling/sandman?

"Look, Mee," Hob says, for the fourth or fifth time that conversation. "I'm sure your brother is, uh, great, but I'm not sure -- "

"Come on," his best friend says, also for the fourth or fifth time that conversation. "Honestly, you'd be doing me a massive favor. I can barely get him out of the house most days, so I figured that at least the two of you could faff off and be really pathetic together?"

"Thanks." Hob switches the phone to his other ear and glares suspiciously out at the garden; when you've got two small children and it's quiet, you figure something's gone terribly amiss. Robyn and Alison haven't burnt the place down or gotten run over in traffic, but they're playing with something small, muddy and possibly still alive, and Hob debates whether he has to sprint out and save them from certain death. "You're a great friend, truly."

"I know," Morticia says airily. That does, bewilderingly, seem to be her actual name (were her parents massive Addams Family fans or something?) but with Hob and the rest of her friends, she generally goes by Mors, or Mee for short. He looked it up once. Ancient Roman god(dess) of death, which made him laugh, at least when it didn't kick him in the teeth. "You can thank me later."

"And I want to spend time with your brother... why?"

"Because." Oh God, here it comes. He can hear her trying not to say it, the same way everyone's tried not to say it in the going-on-eighteen months since his wife went into an ordinary central-London NHS hospital to give birth to their second child and didn't come back out. "You know it would be good for you, Robbie."

"Right." Hob's voice turns wry. "Can't have me wallowing alone in my misery? You know I've got the kids to look after, and they're talking about extending my contract at Birkbeck. I'm keeping busy."

Keeping busy. It always sounds stupid, even if it's the truth. Like you can chase overwhelming, soul-crushing grief away just by getting out of bed and making breakfast for the kids, holding Robyn's hand as you trundle off on the school run and tell him to have a good day, the thousand and one ways you think you're massively arsing this up and Ellie would have been so much better. Every time the doorbell rings or someone comes up the walk, he thinks -- for a stupid moment he thinks -- and then of course it isn't. You think about women dying in childbirth like it's something out of medieval times, or some third-world country. Not in England in the twenty-first century. Not in London. Not as if your daughter is beautiful and bright and alive, and every time you look at her, you remember that her mother isn't, and the happiness you feel is poisoned by grief again, cold and blue and endless as the ocean. You laugh with the kids at some Disney cartoon one moment, and the next, you're crying alone in the kitchen, in bed, in the silent darkness. And no matter how much you ask, she doesn't answer. You think she does, sometimes. You're just fooling yourself.

You know, Hob thinks. Maybe it would be good for him. At least it would let him spend time with (if Mee's account is anything to go by) the one man in all of London more pathetic than him. It doesn't have to be anything more than that. Even if she is trying to set him up, she wouldn't admit it. She isn't, surely? Trying to match her brother off with her best friend, widowed-single-dad-part-time-lecturer who's clinging onto sanity by the bare edge of his fingernails? Right? Fuck. Should never have told her that he's bi. Doubled her meddling possibilities at a stroke. And yet. He's so lonely, he almost doesn't care.

"Fine," Hob says resignedly. "I'll see if I can get a sitter for the kids. And it better not be that grotty brewery in Shepherd's Bush you dragged me to last time."

"No." Mee sounds like she's laughing at him. She probably is laughing at him, or else she thinks he's become such a pathologically undatable freak that his only chance for happiness ever again is with her equally pathetic little brother. "Nice new Asian-fusion place. Hammersmith. Fifteen minutes from you on the Tube. Don't chicken out, Robert."

And with that, well --

There's pretty much no choice.

Hob finds a sitter for the kids, promises to pay her twenty quid an hour (it's London, after all), and grumblingly picks out some clothes. He's not good at this. It's been almost ten years since he was dating anyone, and Eleanor was from a rich enough family that there was no chance of ever impressing her parents; he could have turned up in anything from Savile Row to a bloody dishcloth and they still would have hated him. Then he finds himself fucking around to the point where he's going to be late, the Tube will be a nightmare anyway, and panics again and rushes out the door with barely a word about what to feed the kids and when to put them to bed. Is nice Olivia from down the street judging him? She almost surely is.

Hob grimly toddles off to Hammersmith, exits into a light rain, and spends an inordinate amount of time searching for the restaurant. When he finally steps inside, he's not quite sure who he's looking for. Mee texted him a picture of her brother, but Hob has trouble believing that such a pale, pasty, and terminally uncharismatic twink could ever be related to her. One of them has to be adopted, and he's laying money on this one, whose name is -- no, seriously -- Morpheus. Morticia and Morpheus. What is wrong with their parents? Determined to doom their children to an eternity of primary-school torment?

Hob contemplates turning around and leaving, but now he's come this far, Olivia will definitely judge him if he returns within the hour, and frankly, he's judging himself. Even worse, he's fairly sure he's just spotted his man. Morpheus (come on, really?) is sitting by himself at a corner table, looking appropriately dark and broody, in his emo-goth dark coat and toilet-brush hair. Just like the photo. He's admittedly not bad-looking in person; he's got a pale, chiseled beauty that is briefly arresting, almost unearthly. Still, though. Definitely a wanker.

"Hello," Hob says, deciding to bite the bullet. He strides over, hand outstretched. "I'm Robert Gadling, and I think you're the bloke I'm supposed to be meeting? I know your sister."

Morpheus's mouth makes a small lemon-sucking motion. He rises to his feet, regards Hob's hand as if not certain what to do with it and/or wondering if he can get away with not touching it, and finally shakes it, brief and cold and dry. "I am," he says curtly. "You may sit."

Well, good. Glad they got His Majesty's permission. No unauthorized sitting happening here, no sir. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Hob puts his bag on the floor and slides into the chair across from Morpheus. Like every Londoner at a loss for a better opening line, he reaches for the weather. "Shame about this piss, isn't it? And it was all the way up to twenty degrees last week. Did you have to come far?"

"No," Morpheus says, still not displaying any particular delight in being forced to spend this evening in the presence of another human being and looking as if he is very much hoping the floor will suddenly open up and swallow him. "Not far."

Hob waits, in vain, on the chance that Morpheus might elaborate. He does not. Well. This is going swimmingly. Are they on a date? Did Mee tell him that they were on a date? Is Hob sure this isn't an extremely elaborate prank, and she just plucked one of her single friends from the vast and bewildering mystery of her acquaintances? Truly, it is no wonder that Morpheus is, in fact, unattached. He's got the personality of a soggy rag and the face of -- well, not that. He is pretty. But Hob is not that shallow. Thanks very much.

Conversation suffers badly until they order drinks and food; or rather Hob orders, and Morpheus says that he'll take just a glass of wine. He does loosen up slightly as they talk; Hob does most of that, but Morpheus listens with cool, intent attention. From time to time he asks a question, but he doesn't interrupt, and finally Hob, trying to make it as light-hearted as "my wife died eighteen months ago and this is the first not-date I've been on ever since" can possibly be, admits it. He braces for Morpheus to get up, to run, to fire off an indignant text to Morticia or anything else, but he doesn't. He just nods once. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I know that it is... difficult."

All of a sudden, Hob is forced to consider the startling and unsettling possibility that Morpheus himself knows something about this. He can't say why or how that might be, but life is full of mysteries. "I -- yeah." It's an abject relief to say it and to have someone acknowledge it simply and matter-of-factly, not smother him with sympathy or cluck about how hard it is. "So if I'm off my game, that, uh. That's why."

Morpheus thinks about that for a long moment. Then all at once, out of nowhere, he smiles. It completely transforms his face, it twists like a fishhook in Hob's gut, and all of a sudden, he wonders in alarm if he is, in fact, entirely that shallow after all. "Believe me, Hob Gadling," Morpheus says. "It has very much been my pleasure."

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Anytime (bangchan)

"HEARTS ON FIRE TONIGHT FEEL MY BOOONES IGNITE LOVE FEELS LIKE WAAR WAAR FEELS LIKE WAAAR WAA-". You abruptly stop your tone deaf singing over old all time low songs and gasp when your car suddenly starts slowing down by itself, all the little warning lights on your dashboard turn on simultaneously and a screeching sound starts blaring out of nowhere.

You act in no time. Slamming your foot hard on the break you turn on your right blinker and veer your vehicle on the side of the desolated road by using pure engine inertia until the car just shuts down on its own, leaving you in a stunned silence, bleary eyed and slightly panicky as to whatever the fuck just happened.

You look in your rear view mirror and make sure the road is actually empty and thank whatever god up there for allowing you to pull to the side relatively safely, considering you could have just caused a mass chain rear end collision if it wasn't for your fast instincts. And just the general desolation of this side road you always drive down on your way back home from work when avoiding the worst of traffic is your main priority. Except that it is quite a dark, scarcely illuminated, less than safe road. And you are alone. And your car has most definitely just broken down. And it's almost 9pm on a winter night. Crap.

You swallow down that slimy, unsettling felling creeping up in your throat and try to revive the engine a few more times to no avail. OK. It's fine. It's going to be fine. I'm definitely not just stranded here in the middle of nowhere am I? You talk to yourself out loud, desperately trying to keep your sanity as you finally decide to fish your phone out of your bag and dial up the emergency tow truck number. After a couple rings a dispatcher picks up and you try your best to remain calm and explain the situation you are in as thoroughly as you can: "right, an operator is on its way but it might take up to an hour and half m'am, we suggest you keep safe and display the emergency triangle tripod roadside while you wait".

Once the dispatcher hangs up you sigh in frustration, "now what", you mumble, a shiver already trailing down your back from both the cold and the slight panic threatening to build up in your belly. You do as instructed and then quickly get back in your car, now fully shivering from the cold: how the hell am I gonna wait here in the cold for an hour and not freeze or get robbed in the mean time? Acting merely on impulse you unlock your phone once again and click on the emergency contact icon, silently praying Chan is not currently wearing his thousands dollars noise cancelling headphones in the studio.

"Hello? Y/n what's up?". You exhale loudly, a little silver of hope twinkling in the progressively darker night, "hey Channie… Sorry to call you at this hour…", Chan giggles on the other end of the line and you can almost imagine the way his eyes are crinkling and his dimples are showing, "I've literally just started working, not even 30 minutes ago. I'm a night owl you know", "hahaha yeah… So I uh… I'm kinda stranded on the side of the road? I'm like.. I think I'm like a little under 15 miles away from home but my car broke down… And the emergency truck won't be here for another hour or so", "WHAT? oh my god are you okay?".

You can basically hear Chan springing to his feet so fast his spinning chair rolls away from beneath him, the concern and slight alarm in his voice something you rarely get to hear from him. Chan is and has always been your rock. Through heaven and high water, you knew you could rely on him ever since second grade when one day you had forgotten your lunch box at home and found yourself sitting alone in the school canteen, your stomach grumbling as you watched all the kids eating their meals so enthusiastically, and this little boy with short dark hair and the cutest dimples stepped away from his friends table and offered you half of his sandwich and half of his apple.

That simple, kind gesture had become the start of your almost 2 decade long friendship, he went from always stuffing his lunchbox with extra food for you just in case you forgot again to holding your hand in the ER at 15 when you had the most painful appendicitis to helping you move in into your first big girl apartment, carrying all the heavy boxes for you without you even asking, him being the true gentleman he was. No wonder you loved him to pieces.

"I'm okay, just a little cold", you mumble, trying to mask the uncertainty and panic in your voice, "I'll be right there. Please send me your location. And lock yourself inside. Is the engine totally dead? Can you turn on the radio without starting the ignition?", Chan asks, his voice now more even and calm, his natural care taker mode activating instantly once he assessed the situation.

You try to turn on the radio as he suggested, and to your surprise, it works just fine judging by the sudden blasting of guitar riffs on the very same Love Like War track you were listening to earlier, you flinch at the volume that seems ridiculously too loud now that your basically parked and alone in the dead of the road, and press your button down to lower it a bit.

"Yeah the radio is working fine", "okay, great. Keep it on until I get there, and turn on your mainlights and all four of your blinkers as well". Once again, you do as you're told, you quickly send him your geolocalisation and double check all the lights are still fully functioning while you hear Chan scrambling to grab his keys and jacket and heading out the door, "done. I'm twinkling like a Christmas tree right now", you joke half heartedly, your breath starting to condense from the cold when you speak, "great, santa is coming!", he giggles and the pauses, "do you want me to stay on the line with you?", he asks more seriously, and something pleasant, unexpectedly warm settles in your heart and you smile to yourself, "it's okay. I don't want to risk distracting you while you drive. I'll be here, listening to my emo playlist, you drive safely please", "that's a good idea. It's going to be alright ye? Just hang in there".

You think 15 minutes cannot last an eternity. But that's exactly how long it feels like you've been freezing in the cold for until you see Chan's car pull up. As soon as you see him turning off his headlights you leap out of your car and fly into his open wide arms, instantly crashing into his chest as he lifts you off the ground, hands already vigorously rubbing your back, trying to warm you up:"I don't think I've ever been so relieved, I'm so happy to see you oh my god", you chuckle, your teeth chattering as Chan envelopes you into his arms, even unzipping his jacket and pulling it over your arms to warm you up, and you have to admit…. His jacket smells divine. He smells divine. Signature vanilla and musk and… Manly.

It's inexplicable but Chan has been smelling the same, musky but sweet, fresh, manly scent ever since he was like 19 or so. "Likewise, I'm so happy you're safe", he giggles, patting your hair, "now get in my car and warm yourself up a bit, I turned up the ac and left an extra jacket on the passanger seat for you". There it is. Again. That fuzzy, warm feeling in your heart that makes your cheeks flash red for no reason. "What about you? Are you not going to wait in there for the tow truck with me?", you ask confusedly and he giggles, his deep dimples on full show as he squeaks, "of course I am, I just want to check your car real quick. Maybe push it slightly to the very edge of the road some more so it'll be out of the way should cars drive down here".

You let Chan do his thing and quickly get in his car, just eager to warm yourself up, to finally feel like you have hands again. The night feels so cold your fingers had slowly started to become numb from the low temperatures. Once you're wrapped up in your best friend's spare jacket and huddled close to the air vent, you take a deep breath and stretch out your hands, allowing yourself to relax and soak up the relief running through your veins.

Chan had this power, this ability to make everything feel fine again. You had know him basically your whole life and could recall each and every time he managed to make everything better, each and every time he was there for you, reliable and strong and supportive like no one else you had ever met.

"Ffuck it's cold!". As soon as Chan climbs back in the car he lurches for the air vent, turning up the warm air setting to the maximum and you giggle at his poor state, offering your arms the same way he did for you just a few minutes ago, "aww thank you, sweetheart", he says over your shoulder, thick aussie accent and giggles and all as he squeezes you, a thin layer of sweat from the exertion of having to manually push your car to the side, his still persistent, scent travelling up your nostrils.

You swallow down whatever stupid funny feeling in your throat and sigh happily, "thank YOU for rescuing me, as per usual", you confess, suddenly not feeling like letting go of him just yet, kind of enjoying the way his back muscles feel underneath your palms, the way his arms are tight around you, cocconing you. Chan giggles again and pats your back, his chin digging into your shoulder, his little silver hoop earring getting stuck in your hair, "anytime",he replies and you can tell he's about to pull away from you but something tugs at your insides and before he can even move you're clamping down his back, stretching yourself out of the passanger seat just so you can reach out even more to him and hug him even titghter, "not yet, please don't let go just yet", you murmur.

You're not entirely sure if it's just the adrenaline dying down or the fact that you had tried to power through all your fear and freezing bones and now yuur body just physically needed to be held but you hold on onto him for just a little longer. He goes quiet. He silently pushes back his seat away from the steering wheel and hoists your body up until you're sitting in his lap, your chest firmly pressed into his, his cheek pressed onto the side of your face as he rubs his hands up and down your back.

You smile to yourself at the feeling of being this close to him, this comforted, the warm hair hitting your back, the quiet stillness of this moment that feels slightly surreal. "You are safe now, you know that right? I've got you, nothing bad's gonna happen", Chan speaks softly and you nod, now finally letting go of him while still sitting in his lap, his hands resting tentatively on your hips until you place your own on top of his, silently reassuring him it's okay for him to keep them there: "not a single day goes by where I don't feel safe with you, Chris. You... You are my safe place". You smile at him. A very assured smile too.

You don't even know where all this confidence came out from but you feel calm. Unusually calm and confident and secure, as if you're wrapped up in a warm blanket that'll shield you from all harm. "Really? I'm your safe place?", the young, beautiful man looks at you incredulously, his lips twitching into the biggest grin, and you nod sincerely, "yeah. I figured it's high time I let you know. Though I do fear sometimes you're way too mature for your age and you probably feel like you carry enough of a burden on your shoulders and me adding more responsability on that really isn't ideal but - I mean - like... Yeah like-".

You feel your cheeks heat up and your tongue twisting on its self but you keep at it, you screw your eyes shut and purse your lips together, recollecting your thoughts more coherently before continuing,"what I meant to say is: I'm so grateful for you. You make me feel safe. And secure. Always. And I wish I had told you this sooner but more times than not I think you're already so preoccupied with being this awesome leader and role model and just overall wholesome guy that-that you don't need someone else to take care of and add to the pile of things and people that have put you in this spot. I wish you could be your age and act your age freely, enjoying being young and successful and not just having to always be a fort for everyone".

You catch yourself panting a little from your whole speech and when you finally open your eyes again you find Chan smiling warmly, gazing at you with the gentlest look in his eyes, looking at you as if he's mentally hugging you like he always does with anyone and you just never noticed he did with you too.

He sighs contently and wraps his hands around your fingers, bringing your knuckles up to his chin, stopping just short of his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you, "thank you, y/n. I'm not-I'm not great with taking compliments but...you... I really appreciate every single thing you just mentioned. More than you could ever know. But please don't worry about me, I chose this, I enjoy it. You're never going to be a burden, never going to add to any pile",he pauses, taking a slightly deeper breath before continuing, "you're actually that one thing that makes my heart feel very light, very airy".

You let your fingers slip out of his gentle grip and cup his face, your body moving faster than your mind, your actions preceding your own thoughts as you lean closer and kiss him in the spur and of the moment. His hands immediately flying to your hips, pulling your body closer to his as he enthusiastically kisses you back. And God does it feel good. Does it feel right. Just so right. Unexpectedly but so inevitably right.

"Sorry,mmh I'm sorry", Chan mumbles, his lips still attached to yours as he tries to contain his giggles, "what are you sorry for?", you ask, breathless, and he circles your waist with his arms, resting his forehead against yours, "I should've asked. I definitely should have asked if it was okay to kiss you".

You burst into the happiest giggles and tilt your head back, "Christopher I kissed you. I should have asked. If anyone should be sorry it's me", you admit sincerely but he shakes his head, "I kissed you back. Straight away", "yeah! please do it more", you reply boldly which makes him giggle and giggle and squeak out of pure joy, "does this mean I can ask you out sometimes? And have more kisses?", he teases and you play with the collar of his shirt, pulling at it so he has to speak one inch away from your face, less than an inch away from your lips, "anytime. Any day of the week. Any time of the day or the night", you reply eagerly and this time around he cups your face and pulls you to him, kissing you so sweetly yet so passionately you momentarily forget you're both still in his car, all lights on, alone in the dead of the night until you feel something tapping impatiently on the driver side window: "uhm sorry to interrupt .... This is Ted. Emergency tow truck service, did you guys call?".

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Hope you are doing fine :) The second season has only aired and I imagine it will be months and months before this one gets answered, but I think my question will still be relevant and possibly will get more answers by the time we all stop hurting so much.

So, I've seen the post about how naive we all were about ineffable husbands figuring their shit out immediately after notapocalypse (or like AT ALL) and how used we are to all the difficulties being settled off-screen or ignored and rushing to happy parts. And as we see in season 2 this is not the case at all, and all their trauma/habit of not talking to each other and whatever else really needs to be resolved before any happy ending is possible. What fics can you recommend about Hard Work Being Done with happy results (canon-compliant to either first or both seasons)?

Hello. Here are some canon compliant fics in which communication and effort happen...

Locked In by RepQueen15 (T)

After four weeks of Crowley crying and moping over Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina had started scheming. He’d registered it all, the cleared throats and the hints about ‘helping revamp the cafe soon.’ Crowley cursed himself for not waking the fuck up from his stupor and getting them to stop. He knew it was over. He knew. He’d given it all he’d got. And Aziraphale had forgiven him. He’d fucking forgiven Crowley. Fuck Maggie and Nina. They did this. ‘This’ being locked in the cafe. Locked inside the walls of ‘Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death,’ with him. Aziraphale. God-fucking-damn he hated his life. * Or: Crowley and Aziraphale get trapped together and have to have a Serious Talk About Their Relationship.

on one wounded wing by shoebox_addict (T)

��I'm done with Heaven,” said Aziraphale, with conviction. He’d had a long time to think this through, he knew where he stood now. “I'm on our side.” “You've said that before.”

Something lasts forever by Aidaran (T)

After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley is left to drink himself to death and be just as miserable as he can be. Lucky for him, Nina doesn't have patience for drunk demons in his shop, and Maggie is always willing to give a helping hand. Or, How Give me Coffee or Give me Death became an unexpected embassy for hell and heaven forces to gather, so certain ground rules had to be set. ------- "Still taking care of him?" Maggie said softly as Crowley exhaled with annoyance and reclined his back on her counter. "I want to prove him wrong. Some things do last forever. I want him to come back and see they do." “And then what?” He looked confused for a second. Truth was, he wasn’t letting himself think too much about what would happen when the angel returned. If he returned. He’d been avoiding that pain for millenia and wasn’t going to start allowing it to creep in. “Well, haven’t got my plan that far yet.”

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better by elf_on_the_shelf (T)

Armageddon came and went and Crowley is trying his hardest to get whatever it was that he had hoped and dreamed for millennia to have with Aziraphale going. Unfortunately for him, the angel is not there yet. Unfortunately for both of them, Crowley, despite him being a darn optimist, really can't wait any longer. This is a fic that explores all of their inner turmoil and means to address as much as it can of their past trauma. It's a fic about healing old wounds and the both of them getting to be better supernatural entities all on their own before they try their hand at any type of relationship. Or: Crowley gets therapy by means of tough love. Aziraphale has a long - and I do mean long - talk with himself.

wartimes by ffonippop (G)

Crowley decides he's gotten too sentimental in his time on Earth. He fucks off to Canis Major to listen to angry, scorned, and bitter songs, adamantly avoiding break-up ones for his health and sanity, but Aziraphale, the bastard, invites him back to the bookshop for a post-breakup debrief. Much like the constellation Crowley's chosen to sulk at, Crowley is just a kicked puppy who can't refuse a beck and call. Still, he doesn't make it easy.

Sunlight or Demise by verovex (T) Anathema had once said she couldn’t see Adam’s aura, and it should’ve been more of a red flag, but the reality was it had just been so large she couldn’t see it for what it was. For Crowley, it was the same thing with trying to see reciprocation from Aziraphale. * The enormity of love was, by all accounts, indecipherable. Aziraphale had known what love felt like in this world. At least, he thought he understood it. He felt it all around him. He always had. Sometimes, it was stronger in particular places than in others. But, there was something blurred about it all if you looked too close. He’d realized that Heaven never felt like this, yet it’s where you were taught that it should exist. Aziraphale had started to wonder. He couldn’t decide when the thought first came around that perhaps the love he felt had actually been what was sifting between him and Crowley. At some point, it was easier to be humbled by the complacency of what they’d always been showing each other than outright admitting it for what it was. But that wasn't enough anymore.

- Mod D

[serendertothesquad]

Favorite OS fanfics? If you read them

Oooooh well do I got some for you, anon! Shame a lot of my favorites are restricted to Google Docs and aren't publicly published anywhere, but I'll give some a shoutout anyway.

Ships Ahoy!: An absolute classic. Lilac's entire slate OS-wise, really, but Ships Ahoy will always be a favorite. Beautifully crafted with great character dynamics, big old lore, and lots of gut punches that make me go "oof" and then sob eternally. There is also...

Full Circle: An unofficial sequel to Ships Ahoy that focuses on Olive and Oscar's relationship, with Otto, Otis, Oona, Oprah and Olympia all playing matchmaker to try and get them back together. Holy shit is it one of the funniest Odd Squad fics I've read, especially as far as Otis not knowing what shipping is and Olympia and Oona's shipping war is concerned. The A/N at the end is also something that resonates with me a lot, and as someone who writes OS fanfic, I like to look back on it every once in a while because it's very true.

Forever and a Mile: This one is a bittersweet and adorable one-shot that focuses on Octavia in the time she was tube-blocked by O'Brian and was confined to Precinct 13579's HQ, as well as Opie, the mysterious ballpit agent. I love this one because it gives a lot of depth to the ballpit and shows off some of the levels within it, while also making me feel sympathy for Octavia for all that she's going through.

OSMU: Fanfiction Friction: I'm putting this one here mainly because it's one of the few OSMU fics I've seen. It follows the Mobile Unit as they realize that, well, there are no fics written about them, and they do all this wild and crazy stuff in an effort to get a story out of it. There are an absolute fuckton of jabs to various things -- Elon Musk, ABBA, the comic book industry, and even the author himself, among others. There's even a bit where the author makes a jab at someone who was a bit of a pervert who liked to make up stories about agents naked and/or in bathing suits (key word is "was"; they got banned from Deviantart twice and AFAIK they are not around anymore), but you might not know that without context. If you're uncomfortable with that, though, the rest of the story is just as enjoyable if you skip it.

Viva La Vida: Villain Olive is a popular concept in the fandom. This is one of the earlier instances of it! The winner of a trivia contest held by Lilac, the idea for this one was conceived by Joshua Kilimnik and the story was written by Lilac. It features Olive slowly turning to the odd side due to a rapidly declining sanity with Odd Todd giving her all the pushes she needs. I like Olive's internal struggle throughout the story, as well as the (bad) ending which caps things off perfectly. (There's also a good ending, added for those who don't like to see Olly-child suffer. Just as beautiful!)

Icing: Fuck your two-sentence horror stories. All my homies hate two-sentence horror stories. Have a 91-word horror story that's one hell of a flashfic and puts a terrifying spin on what was already a pretty terrifying line in-series.

Through Frostbitten Stone: There is another fic I read a long time ago where Olympia manages to get hypothermia while trying to save Otis. (That's the gist of it. The full context would derail this bit.) This fic takes a bit of a different turn from that, with Otis getting hypothermia instead of Olympia, and is also one of the longest Odd Squad fics I've ever seen (and that is barring my own, thank you). It's a hefty read at nearly 30k words, but it's a beautiful read that showcases the Otis-Olympia partner dynamic perfectly.

...Okay fine. FINE. Two more and then that's it. God there are way too many good ones.

Star Agents: This was one that was Google-Docs-exclusive and has now been published onto AO3. And thank God, because it is incredibly good for an AU story where Otto and Todd are partners while Olive is on the villains' side. There are more chapters that are buried in Google Docs currently, but I recommend keeping an eye on this one for updates.

From The Desk of Doctor O: I like the format of this one. Dr. O trying to reform Odd Todd through court-mandated therapy sessions is also a really neat concept. Mainly because, if Odd Squad's judicial system were more realistic, I can 100% see court-mandated therapy being a thing. Definitely looking forward to seeing where this goes.

---------------------

This isn't an exhaustive list by any means, but there ya go, my list of favorites. I do like how the fic scene is still going strong with this fandom 10 years later lol.

Of course, I'm also nominating my own stories: my FiMFic catalog of crossover stories, and my AO3 collection of stories. Enjoy!

[starluvsx]

★𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Proofread:kinda...not rlly

Wordcount:2266

WARNINGS:throw up/emetophobia , panic attack, crying, this takes place before they’re like famous or wtv.also this is very long.

A/N:ntm on the banner idk what happened😭

“Guess where I’m going tonight”I said to the boy I was on the phone with.my best friend Matt.he was playing video games while I got ready.probably not paying much attention to what I was doing but definitely listening.

“Where?” he questioned as his face twisted into one of frustration.most likely because of the game he was playing.

“I’m going to hailys party” I cheekily said.smiling just at the thought of what tonight would be like.

“Isn’t that like all seniors?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.even though we were both the same age he always acted like my older brother.

"uh yea, i'll be fine dont worry.im not gonna like get fucked by a 20 year old or end up passed out in the street.im a responsible person matt."i rambled on

"i know you are but- shit...seniors can be pretty intense sometimes" the boy on the other line explained

"ill be fine dude, ok anyways, what outfit do i wear?" i said while show-casing two outfits that lay on separate hangers.

"im kinda in the middle of something right now"

"i dont care, just look for a second"

"y/n i litterally cant"

"matthew bernard sturniolo turn your fucking head this direction and help me pick out an outift or i swear to God"

"ok ok jeez" he said as he hesitantly turned to face his phone screen. "i don't like either of them"

"oh fuck you" i said as i put my phone onto its back so i could change into one of the outfits.

✧At the party

a large smile was painted on my face as i swayed my hips to the beat of the music. I've never felt more alive.the freshly poured drink splishing and splashing around in the cup i was holding, small droplets finding a home on my wrist. despite this being me being only a junior i was mixing well with the crowd.not feeling awkward or like i didn't belong for a second

a tap on my shoulder stopped my movements abruptly.i turned around to where the feeling came from only to see the girl that i came here with, Serenity. she looked deepyly upset which wasnt usual for the cheerful girl. "hey sese, whats up?" i yelled over the loud music.im not even sure if she could hear me.

"i feel sick" serenity answered. i quickly grabbed her hand and bee-lined it to the bathroom.she had been drinking alot.way more then me.and i was sure that what she mean t by 'i feel sick' was 'im about to throw up' and i want that to be no where else but the toilet.for her dignity and my sanity.

i banged on the door of the first bathroom i came across. "occupied!" someone yelled from the other side, forcing me to practically drag serenity down the crowded hallway to another bathroom.once we made it to the white door i realized there was no point in knocking because i could hear two drunken people going at it as if it were their last night on earth.

panic began to set in at the same pace as reality.no more bathrooms in sight. shit shit shit i mentally cursed to myslef as i looked over at a half folded over serenity. "y/n i think im gonna throw up"the blonde girl stated

i quietly mumbled "no no your not, please don't, not here" but my pleads were to no eval as once the words left my mouth so did all of the drinks serenity had earlier.it was all over me.my shirt and jeans and even my white shoes. i screamed in panic. tears spilling out of my eyes almost automatically.

as my eyes darted all over the place i noticed the bathroom door where the couple once were fucking was now open.i put my hand on serenities back and shoveled her into the bathroom, careful not to touch any of the vomit on my shirt.she dropped to her knees and went head first into the toilet at the sight of it.the sounds making me gag internally.

i slid down the wall behind me and sobbed.not being able to escape the vomit.i pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened my contacts.i was about to call my mom to pick me up before i looked at the time. '1:48' it read. she was most definitely asleep. the scrolled through my contacts looking for someone that could come pick me up.

'Matty boy' was the name my eyes locked on, not even waiting a second before calling him.the phone rang longer than i would've liked it to as i pressed it up to my ear. please pick up i mentally begged "hey y/n." a sleepy Matt said on the other line.

i wasted no time "Matt please-please come get me"i choked out through cries.

"what?whats going on?are you ok?"he asked.now sounding more alert and awake

"serenity threw up on me and i-i don't know what to do.please just come get me.please Matt"i begged through the phone.tears sprung out my eyes and rolled down my face, leaving marks of dripping mascara to stain my cheeks.

"ok ill be there in a few minutes.wheres serenity now?"Matt asked.i hadn't even noticed her.i looked down from the ceiling i was staring at and locked eyes with her body.

"she's passed out...o-on the bathroom floor"i slowly got out.

"ok y/n listen to me very carfully,i need you to call haily and tell her serenity is in the bathroom passed out and that you need a chnage of clothes okay?do not leave serenity there." the boy on the other line stated very seriously. i mumbled a small 'okay 'before Matt began talking again "ill be there in a few minutes, don't move from the bathroom."he said before hanging up.silence now filling my ears.

✧Some time later

serenity was now gone after being taken to hailys room so she could sober up.i have a change of clothes on, some large sweat pants and a 'the smiths' t-shirt. although my clothes were now in the washer being clean from throw up, i couldn't get the thought out of my head.

this night, my first real party, had gone to shit.i was tried, scared, my makeup was ruined, my back hurt.i just want to go home. then as if my thoughts were read a knock came at the door. "come in"i lightly shouted.

as soon as the door opened and matt was visible i sprung up from my spot on the floor.hugging the boy before either of us could say anything.sobbing into his shoulder. "its okay.its okay.im here."the brunnete boy said into my hair

he held my back as we walked through the sea of people in order to make it to the exit.drunken others staring at us we walked by.i grabbed my coat which had somehow not bee touched the whole night, a dark blue zip up hoodie.i felt goosebumps go up my arms a I put it on.

the cold air hit my face unexpectidely.the winter weather sending shock through my warm body.a smile krept onto my face for an unidentified reason. i brought my arms over my chest and folded them. "why are you smiling?"matt asked while looking over at me.a smile on his face aswell

"i dont know" i answred with a small giggle.once we finally made it to the car i hobbled myself into the front passenger seat.the car was practically silent as he put the key in the ignition and started it.not much being needed to be said.

Once we pulled out of the carefully chosen parking spot I advised Matt to not drive me home seeing as my mom would probably kill me.a small hum of approval being the only noise to come from him.

This silence was soon followed up with an unexpected “thank you”from Matt. “For calling me when you needed to and not being stubborn”he clarified

A vocal response didn’t seem to fit the situation so I simply nodded in acknowledgment. “My parents are actually out on vacation so there’s no harm in you staying the night by the way, went to Maine or something.” He began to speak.I didn’t respond.only looking out the window infront of me.

“So what was it like?your first senior party?”the driving boy asked as he focused on the road infront of us.the street lights and cars illuminating his pale face.

“Well besides being thrown up on and having a whole panic attack it was pretty good.the drinks were alright and a few guys hit on me but besides that it was just alright”I answered his question.

“Not everything you dreamed of?”matt asked teasingly. Shaking my head no in response “Bummer.well now you get to spend the night with me” he continued as we pulled into his driveway.i never realized how close he lived to Haily.

Once we entered the house I was met with Chris sitting at the kitchen table. “Woah what happened to you”Chris asked.looking up from his cereal and phone.

“A party” I weakly answered.

“Oh is that y/n?”Nick asked from the couch as he turned his head around to face me. “Hey baeee, had a rough night?”he greeted and questioned.

“Rough Night is the understatement of the century”I grumbled as I opened their fridge searching for water.

“You went to hailys party right?yea those seniors are crazy.are those your clothes?”Nick rambled on.

“No these are hailys,serenity threw up on me.”I casually answered,shuddering at the remembrance of what happened.I stretched my arm out to grab the advil in their top shelf.

“Oh gross.you sleeping here tonight?”chris chimed in and asked.

“Yea, no point in going home and getting my ass beat.”I exaggerated

“Where you sleepin?”chris asked again

“Not with you, last time you punched me right in the boob, painful as fuck.”I retorted as I swapped the pills and water.

“Dude it was an accident!i was sleeping!”he answered as he threw his hand sup in defense.making me giggle.

“Not taking any chances”

“Well you can’t sleep with me.”Nick stated suddenly

“Why?”

“My bed is fucking lopsided and I have to sleep on the couch till it’s fixed” Nick said

“Just sleep in Chris’ room”

“He fucking attacks me in his sleep!”

“What about Matt?”

“He’s up too late for me, I need my eight hours but I guess this kid only needs 8 minutes” Nick answered my few questions causing me to lightly laugh

“Ok then I guess I’m sleeping in your room Matty boy”I said, turning to the boy who had just been listening to this conversation silently.

“Ok then cmon,I’m going to bed right now”he tiredly said as he walked in the direction of his room.

“I find that hard to believe”Nick shouted from his place in the couch.

I hugged Chris and Nick before following Matt into his room.

Upon opening the door I saw Matt face down on the mattress. “Jeez I didn’t think you were that tired” I joked as I sat down on the bed next to him.the calming blue led lights coloring us and the rest of the room around us.

He turned his head sideways to face me “I’m always tired”he mumbled.I situated my body so I was now laying next to him more comfortably.we then gradually moved ourselves to face each other while laying on our sides.his eyes staring into mine deeply.

"your beautiful" I whispered under my breath. ive always though Matt was attractive.not in a sexual way but the same way I think Alahna is pretty.but tonight was different.the way the blue lights bounced off his face, and how his messy hair rested almost perfectly on his forehead, or maybe it was how his dark, tired, eyes never seemed to look scary or weird on him.nonetheless he looked a way I don't even think I could describe if you put the words out in-front of me.

"your angelic..." I found myself say as my heart was taking action before my brain.i brushed some hair out of his eyes delicately with my fresh painted nails.he didn't respond, only giving me small smile.i caressed the side of his face with the back of my hand.tracing his facial structure.

"I love you" he abruptly said.the three words causing blood to rush to my cheeks rapidly.my heart besting faster almost as if on command

"I'll always love you more"I solemnly said.not exactly wanting to see his reaction to my words i moved in a little closer and closed my eyes.curling up and grabbing the covers.to my surprise though, after a few minutes I could feel his arm sake over my body and pull me closer.my head resting under his chin lightly.

then we fell asleep peacefully.silently hoping that if we were to never to wake up again that we stay together in the next life

[but-a-humble-goon]

As are aware of Bruce's more negative character traits, who while not liking them doesn't dismiss them as a non canon aberration, you seem like the person to ask this question.

Do you think Gut's could be a good comparison as far as characters go in terms of being someone who is capable of great kindness & great cruelty, who is meant to be sympathetic but can at time horrify.

Obviously Guts having been written by one author for one story is a notably more coherent character. This is more of a general comparison if someone embodying two extremes & still making sense.

Guts in the Misty Valley arc could both save & be very cool towards a young child & be a source of comfort, but could also switch to holding a knife to that same child's throat to lure in an enemy for a surprise attack & still feel coherent.

Do you think a well written Batman could be handled as such, and or that Batman as he largely stands in terms of overall collective works could be regarded in a similar light?

I think the sheer insurmountable difference in the writing quality is what makes the comparison difficult. The way I'd describe it is Guts feels like an incredibly well written dark fucked up antihero and Batman feels like a very badly written morally grey goodguy. It's hard to reconcile Bruce's good with his bad because most of the time it genuinely feels like him being kind of a monster happens unintentionally thanks to writers just having no clue what they're doing. Like, clearly during the whole Stephanie War Games saga the audience was supposed to sympathize with Bruce over her but like... they sorta forgot to make him sympathetic and forgot to make Stephanie do anything bad besides being a teenaged girl so the result his he just comes across like a willfully abusive piece of shit motivated apparently by pure spite. Or, again, by pure misogyny if you take Chuck Dixon's word for it. Or whenever he's casually gleefully cruel to criminals and treats them like animals. Most of the time it doesn't feel like the story is commenting on Batman's own issues, it just kinda feels like it's being written by people who think the thoughtless brutality is okay and/or super cool actually and are using Bruce as a vicarious power fantasy. Or all the times they have him lash out with physical violence against his kids, do they actually get how screwed up and over the line that is? Because it feels more like the writers are just like "nah, it's cool, they're not his real kids so it doesn't count as child abuse, just regular abuse which is fine." I've said it before but it genuinely feels like writers think him just being Batman (the beloved childhood icon of whole generations) is a free pass to have him constantly act as awful as they feel like and never face consequences, learn any lessons or grow as a person while expecting everyone to still like him for some reason. I don't think there really is a way to square Batman's constant shittiness with the good person we're supposed to take him to be. Instead it just ends up feeling like there's two Batmans; one who's gruff, antisocial and scary but ultimately a hero who always means well... and another who is a totally incoherently horrible leech of a human being who everyone inexplicably has infinite patience for, presumably because they mistake him for the first guy. On the other hand, Berserk clearly at least understands that the extremes of bastardry Guts ends up going to are indeed extremes. They actually endeavor to make it make internal sense for the character. The dude is at any one time just barely clinging to his sanity after all the horrific shit he's lived through and every single time he tries to let his guard down and start healing the universe punishes him for it, leaving him broken all over again. He ends up being sympathetic because he's somehow only as much of a monster as he is. Even at his absolute darkest he's managed to hold on to even just the faintest glimmer of his humanity despite everything. Also to be perfectly honest, accounting for the sheer difference in quantity of content I would put money on Guts having a much higher proportional rate of humanizing moments of genuine kindness for contrast than Bruce does, even if he does also go a whole lot darker than Bruce ever has.

So if anything the comparison feels more like: here's what to do and here's what not to do.

[messinwitheddie]

Mr. Casarez "Look at this-- You knocked out the rubber cork."

MW "AWK!"

Mr. Casarez "I found it."

Noise "What the Hell is going on here??"

Mr. Casarez "Don't worry, I'll fill you back up. You can break anything else, just not Dough Boy, ok?"

Noise "I DON'T CONSENT TO THIS!!!

Nononono! You sick fuck! Why?!"

Mr. Casarez "No harm no foul.

Here you go, Beautiful. Eat up."

Noise "I've been violated.

If you think I'm not going to retaliate, you're in for a nasty surprise! *stomps angrily*

*stomps and wiggles hips* Hey... I can work with this."

Mr. Casarez "Son of a-- That punk helped himself to my chilli! He better have given some to little Todd--

Mmm... Came out pretty good this time."

Noise "Shit, man. Where are you putting it all?"

Mr. Casarez "Oh God, everything hurts...

*a series of rattling and tinks*

What the Hell is that?... Probably mice. I'll deal with it when I wake up."

Noise "OH COME ON!"

Last page [

I give up on consistent or even decent backgrounds >< (not really, I'll keep trying, but it feels futile) Looking back on it, the shoving things up Noise's bottom end gag was in poor taste, but his origin story is written and drawn out now. He's fine; he bounced back quickly enough.

He will gradually get louder and chip away at the last remaining shreds of Juan's sanity.

That's the end of the meanwhile. I'm looking forward to wrapping this au up over the next few pages. As always, thanks for all the love, everyone.

[weebsinstash]

Ugh okay I’m not sure if this will really fit with ur ideas but whenever anyone brings up group yanderes I’m always drawn to a specific scenario: Reader, by some miracle, gets a significant other outside of the group that, again, by a miracle, they don’t know about (I’m thinking, in this scenario, Reader travels through universes often to hang out with different spiders, and in a universe they visit frequently, they sneak off and see someone whenever the local spider is doing their spider stuff). Said s/o breaks up with Reader and they’re obviously upset. The group starts freaking tf out because their darling’s upset and not telling anyone what’s wrong, while Reader’s going through a whole internal conflict because they know they’ll be in trouble if they tell the truth, but also they know their ex will be in MAD trouble, so they’re desperately trying to hide the whole situation, which only makes things worse as the group descended into chaos, knowing that their darling is hiding *something* and not telling anyone. The whole spiderverse is working together to manipulate you/figure out what’s going on. People like Jess, Pav, and Gwen try to approach you as sympathetic friends who you can vent your issues to, while characters like Miguel and Hobie are much more upfront in telling you to tell them what’s going on, not even asking. When the truth does inevitably get revealed, it’s hell on earth for both you and your ex. (Bonus; imagine if said ex actually hurt you in some way other than breaking up, like admitting to cheating or was generally cruel to you either during the relationship or just in the breakup. The fury of your captors would be biblical)

God and from their perspective some/most of it is justified because you're walking around SIGNIFICANTLY more depressed than before, you're starting to become more anxious and jumpy, and with some people you're outright lashing out in anger if they press you on the subject, so like, even if some of the Spiders are trying to invade your privacy or even manipulate you, from their side, there's no telling how serious this problem actually is, or if it's nothing to be concerned about (in the grand scheme of things, you having a fight with your partner isn't some world shattering event, but to THEM it's 'wait Reader's been dating? who???' And like virtually no matter who it is, if they're a Normie they aren't good enough by the Society/your group's standards. Although technically if dating could potentially interfere with any of your future canon events, well, then you have a particular spicy papi very upset with you...)

So like, I haven't seen all clips of Miguel's scenes and speaking lines yet but I've been spoiling myself to a little more (I aim to see spiderverse on the big screen this weekend so I was kinda leaving some to surprise, fucking hid all my wax and edibles, im gonna dry out for a few days and hit some dabs and see this shit in IMAX and itll rewire my fucking brain shits gonna be so good) but oh my god this man gets so fucking scary. He's just on his brooding platform already stressed as fuck which is a constant state he lives in at this point and here's Jess and Peter B as concerned parents to fill him in on their concerns, what they've seen from you: sudden increased self isolating, crying more, becoming more withdrawn and quiet, refusing to talk to them about it, trying to spend all your time alone. Miguel just, trying to tether the last pieces of his mental sanity together as he decides to go visit you personally, and he can immediately tell you're hiding something from all the darting glances to the fact you don't want to look him in the eyes.

Like can you imagine, I guess it depends on how you see Reader "going about", like do they have their own home universe or whatever, but, Miguel hasn't confronted you himself yet and he decides, fine, you want to keep secrets, good fucking luck, and all of his dimensional watches he's given out are probably connected to the same servers and systems so he just, looks up your travel log and quickly identifies that you've been visiting the same universe repeatedly, but none of your friends seem to know why you would be going there. Say you've been hanging around in Gwen's universe and Miguel assumes, oh maybe you're spending time with Gwen, maybe that emo little drummer said something to upset you, but Gwen looks confused (and a little upset) when it turns out you've been apparently popping in her universe without even saying hi? And Miguel is gritting his teeth because he's starting to form a theory on what's going on and he doesn't like it one fucking bit

He teams up with Jess and Peter B and Gwen and some of your other pals and he starts triangulating your bracelet and. Wow what the fuck you're in Gwen's dimension RIGHT NOW. So then they all race towards your location to watch from a distance, some real loony tunes, "all 6 or 7 of us are hiding behind the same tree" bullshit, and, there you are from a distance, out of costume as you're clearly very upset, talking to someone that, most of the Spiders recognize instantly minus characters like Pav and Jess and Miguel and there's this resounding GROAN OF DISGUST "oh god, NOT FLASH THOMPSON" (for Spiderman lore newbies this is literally the character that bullies the fuck out of Peter Parker in high school like literal actual shoving him into lockers shit)

Peni uses her mech to send out a listening device and everyone is comically gathered around as they eavesdrop and start getting progressively more furious as they start piecing things together: you HAD been there to visit Gwen initially, but somehow you met Flash out of costume and the jockey SOMEHOW managed to woo you, but the relationship quickly became manipulative and controlling until you eventually caught Flash with another person. They're all GRITTING THEIR TEETH as you're in tears, asking him what you did wrong, where did you mess up, and Flash basically tells you to your face, "you're nothing special, I got bored of you"

Your little groupie gang of platonic and romantic yandere WITH STEAM BLOWING OUT OF THEIR EARS as you whimper "but... you-you said you loved me! We SLEPT together!" And he just. Fucking laughs in your face, SHOVES YOU, and calls you a slut before walking away with someone else on his arm

Gwen absolutely seething as she reflects on how Flash treated her Peter and Pavitr is swearing curses onto his entire family line meanwhile Hobie just like "oy would it break canon if I smash my guitar over that pisser's head". Peter 'I just wanna talk to him' B Parker as he hands Mayday off to Jess while cracking his knuckles. Miguel is, well, upset about like 10 different things because God fucking damn it, how long have you been hanging around with non-Spiders in other universes? (Do you think the Spider Society would be like, more than just a little possessive and insular, since youre supposed to be part of the Ha Ha We're All Spiderman club and they catch you hanging with normies over them) Is there anyone else? What have you been doing? He's just instantly a mixture of furious and hurt because damn it don't you know you're like his favorite, why the fuck are you running around potentially flirting with canon, don't you know how dangerous this is

But also deadass he wants to tear that man apart with his claws and he's considering checking the canon events of this universe to see if he can make it so

The Gang just watching as you pick yourself up but can't stop crying, and you drag your feet as you head to sit in a park or something, seeming like your entire form and surroundings are nothing but a depressed, deep blue. You're in a park or something so they can't exactly approach you normally because there are people around, but you just sit there crying for ages before you eventually pick yourself up and draaaaaag your feet, seeming to walk around aimlessly until, eventually, you go to a dark alley or under a bridge somewhere and they all pop out at you just as you're about to warp home anyways and you're just immediately bombarded by all these people

"Hey, you know what he said isn't true, right? Dude's a punk bitch!"

"Scuse me? I take that personally. He IS a total fuckin wanker though"

"Hon, you can't let what some ego-tripping blonde who peaked in high school said make you feel like this! He ain't worth it!"

And you're just standing there looking at them as your heart breaks a little more because you HAD been wanting some kind of support in all of this but you're muttering out with disbelief, "you guys followed me...?" And you're really hurt by that, but, here comes Miguel, stalking forward, putting a hand on your shoulder that's one part sympathetic comfort, one part possessive anger as he glowers at you with chestnut eyes that almost look RED, "anything else you wanna share?"

Miguel marching back to the weekly We Love Reader meeting and slapping a graphic up onto the wall with your face like a PSA "THIS Spider FUCKS and only YOU can stop it" fhfjfjg no not really but like non yandere Spiders are doing their own thing when, from a secret meeting room somewhere in Nueva York, the ground practically shakes with dozens upon dozens if not hundreds of voices crying out in agony "NOT FLASH THOMPSON 😩"

Bonus points if like, one of the things The Gang had witnessed was you crying and all that right, but, what if Reader had specifically said to Flash, "but I gave you my VIRGINITY" like. Mayhem. Pandemonium. All the Spiders have a sudden "aha!" because wow no wonder you suddenly started talking about how you're worthless and don't matter, this DICK HEAD lured you into a false sense of security and trust and then took your virginity and bounced while calling you a fucking loser and judging by that shove, has maybe even put his hands on you before? Like fuckinnnngggg The Society and your entire friend group freaking the fuck out one day because you have a black eye one day you were trying to hide with sunglasses and you say it was from a Villain but they're all like Nah Fam That's Sus because how would a villain pop one off on your face when you have super strength and Spidey Sense and they get you/intimidate you to open up and it's like, oh, that was because your "boyfriend" didnt like how you thought you smelled someone else's perfums/cologne on him and he lost his temper when you pressed him for answers, and even when you tell them the truth you're still crying with a small laugh, "it was my fault, I should've backed off and realized I was upsetting him"

Reader just gets surrounded by all their friends and "the cute Spiders" like the cat Spiderman and oh my fucking god there's a plushie Spiderman and just, gosh, they try to basically smother you with love to cheer you up and bring your confidence back but your heart has been wounded and needs time to heal 🥺 regardless, later on Detective Stacey is having to investigate and finds Mr Thompson in an alleyway with a busted knee that permanantly ends any sort of athletic career and the words "CHEATER" cut across his body in multiple places while he's covered in scratches, bruises, bites, and he keeps mumbling the weirdest most incoherent shit under his breath that gets him hospitalized

"The- the pig... it TALKED... it pulled out a HAMMER... from its POCKET... the pig... had ... POCKETS..."