#giant SAP LOOK AT HIM!!

[crowlixcx]

Broadchurch | S2EP6 | Alec Hardy’s Wettest Moments (Part 61)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"yuri lowell is a manly heterosexual"

yuri lowell:

[mixingandmelting]

Heavy Blanket

Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.

“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.” 

He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him). 

You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments. 

Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.

“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”

He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.

“Only to you, love. Only to you.” 

Took the words right out of your mouth. 

Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today. 

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

“Johnny?”

“No.”

“Johnny.”

“No.”

“John Mactavish.”

That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally. 

You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?” 

“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.” 

Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes. 

“Heavy and hard, aye?”  

One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul. 

Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"

You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad. 

You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).

“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”

“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?) 

…This man and his nerves. 

“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy. 

Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this! 

Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face. 

König 

A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed. 

“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head. 

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening. 

“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.” 

He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out. 

You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten. 

“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Already did.”

You shake your head. This man. 

[cerastes]

I still think it's really cool how Amuro starts as the shittiest pilot alive (because he's a 15-year old) that only gets carried because he's in the biggest, fattest stat stick in-universe at the time (a few retroactive additions made in the future notwithstanding), enough that even its crappy vulcan guns are tearing Zaku IIs apart, and when he starts getting a bit too cocky, Char and Ramba Ral show up in objectively inferior pieces of junk and absolutely deliver his pizza, they just drag his face across every available surface in Planet Earth like he's a Yakuza mook, all because they are simply that much better at piloting, and the thing is, Amuro takes that very seriously.

He goes from shitass kid in an unfortunate situation that doesn't want to get in the robot to the most unwell child soldier in the war, which is really saying something, but most importantly, becomes so good at piloting the Gundam that the Gundam physically cannot handle Amuro's piloting. They need to apply "Magnetic Coating" to its joints so they don't fucking snap away from the main frame because Amuro, one, moves too damn well but also in too extreme a way for the frame to handle it, two, despite being equipped with two sabers, a shield, a beam rifle and vulcan guns, Amuro is a stern believer in introducing most everyone in thagomizer range to his Rated Z for Zeon hands, the single most official pair of hands in the business, tax free. He KEEP going Ip Man on these dudes, he does NOT need to do a Jamestown on these mother fuckers but he INSISTS. Somehow even the Gundam Hammer, which is a giant Hannah Barbera cartoon flail-- Ok, look at this thing, words do not do it justice

Even this god damn Tom and Jerry prop is less savage that whatever Amuro decides to do the moment he's done throwing his shield to get a free kill on someone and it officially becomes bed time forever for the unfortunate sap at the business end of his ten-finger weapons of mass destruction.

The RX-78-2, "Gundam" for its friends and family, even has a top of the line cutting edge Learning Computer that 'learns' alongside the pilot and their habits. This data extracted from it was so absolutely fucked up that it completely revolutionized Mobile Suit combat afterwards, which is a wholesome thing to think about when The Best Combat Data Ever came from a really angry, really stressed 15 year old that doesn't even like piloting. He was 15! He made Haro with his own hands! Amuro literally just wanted to make funny cute spherical robofriends! Amuro was out there trying to make Kirby real, but fate had other plans for him. His cloned brain put in a pilot seat is one of the setting's strongest 'pilots'.

They made fucking Shadow the Hedgehog with his brain, god damn.

By the end, Zeon is rolling out Gelgoogs out of its mass production lines. These things are in the Gundam's ballpark in terms of overall specs (or "power level"). Amuro is bodying them as if they were episode 1 Zaku IIs.

AND THEN HE GETS FUCKING PSYCHIC SPACE POWERS. Not that he needed them, he bodied a couple Space Psychics without any of those powers before awakening to them. But heaven's most violent child was not done evolving, whether he liked it or not.

Char bodied him in a souped up Zaku II at the start, a machine objectively inferior to the Gundam. Amuro more or less one-sidedly beats the shit out of Char when he's in a custom Commander-type Gelgoog that you could consider to be equal spec-wise to the Gundam. Amuro is the embodiment of Finding Out. He is Consequences. You tell him he better make it hurt, better make it count, better kill you in one shot, buddy, he needs half a fucking shot. The complete transformation. One could consider the central 75% of the show as long drawn out training montage turning a kid into the Geese Howard of giant robots.

[teaforthotxxx]

I feel like Professor Regulus Black would be such a shit once Harry starts playing quidditch. Like sure thats his son but fuck Gryffindors. As the head of Slytherin house, he would show up to Harry’s games in full silver and green. He stands in the Slytherin stands with giant banners for Slytherin. It annoys Harry to no end. Because he knows Reggie loves him but Harry is a Gryffindor and he wants more support for Gryffindor.

Harry would beg Remus to dress up in Red and gold but of course be wouldn’t. Professor Lupin doesn’t care about Quidditch. Harry goes as far as to beg Minerva Mcgonagall to dress up but none of the Gryffindor professors are willing to break dress code for this.

But, then, he gets an idea right before the Christmas Quidditch games. He knows that he may not convince his professors to dress up but there is one way to make them wear what he wants. So, he commissions two giant couple scarves from Mrs Molly Weasley. Both red and gold. He gives them to his dad James Potter and his godfather Sirius Black as early Christmas presents. Then, he asks them to wear them to his game.

AND just as he planned, he sees Remus and Sirius in the Gryffindor stands wrapped in a giant scarf. Remus looks begrudging but he can’t resist how happy it makes Sirius. Then, Harry swoops past the Slytherin stands, he finds Regulus and James snuggled in one giant red and gold scarf. They are still in slytherin but the banners have changed to “Go Harry!” and “THATS OUR SON!”. James was such a sap he wanted them to wear couples costumes and as Gryffindor’s previous headboy, he just HAD to wear red and gold. So, Reg was wearing his old quidditch jersey cute gold rings with rubies.

Harry is so proud he pulled one over Regulus. But, more importantly, he can’t stop laughing at the shocked expressions on Malfoy’s and Zabini’s faces!!

[revelboo]

twirling my hair over Kup in the breeding kink ask because I fancy all these old mechs thanks to your impeccable writing, he's just such a sad old man

He can still kick butt, though

Don’t You

Kup x Reader

• “Look alive, young-bots,” he growls around his cygar, as he vents on a growl and the newest recruits glance at him, then hastily back away from whatever poor bit of organic life they’ve cornered. That’s the problem with green bots. They’re awful on organic worlds, too overwhelmed with all of it and unable to resist poking at things. And striding over, he almost stumbles, because it’s not an animal they’re terrorizing. It’s a bruised and battered human, the little thing hefting a stick and terrified. “Leave ‘em be,” he snarls, shoving the nearest recruit out of his way and you’re backpedaling, eyes wide.

• Shaking, your fingers are white knuckled on the pitiful little branch you’d found. Swinging it so frantically around you as those giants had growled and prodded at you, laughing when you’d fallen more than once. And you’re scared out of your mind. Have no idea where you are or how you ended up here only that it was excruciating. Like being turned inside out. Trembling as the monster robots abruptly back away and the one striding forward isn’t as big as some of your tormentors, as he works a cigar-looking thing clenched between his denta and snarls at them. He’s obviously in charge, though. Backing away as he approaches, he makes a harsh sound that startles you and you fall over one of the thick, fleshy vines everywhere on the ground.

• Lunging as the creeper vine immediately snares you and you scream, Kup makes a grab for it and misses as you’re dragged along the ground. “Hang on, kid,” he growls, jogging after as you claw at the vine, the ground, panicking and trying to stop your slide. Your motions becoming more urgent when you look and see what the vine is attached to. Drawing his gun as you’re hauled up off the ground toward the glistening and deceptively pretty flower coiled around a nearby tree, knowing if it closes around you, that sap will glue itself to you and suffocate you before he can cut you loose. Aiming and ignoring the recruits jostling and making bets on how quickly you’ll die, he growls and fires. Wincing when you hit the mossy ground when the vine is severed.

• Breath knocked out of you, for a moment you can’t move. Fingers digging into the loam and moss, smelling dirt and the awful, rotten flesh stink of the plant. And the monster with the metal cigar is picking his way toward you, carefully avoiding the vines. Try to push yourself up right. To run. “You take off into an alien jungle running like prey, you’re not going to last a klik,” he says and you freeze. Because he’s not growling. You understand him. “Don’t know how you got here, but you better stick with me, kid.” And he crouches down, that cigar thing bobbing up and down as he chews on it. “Name’s Kup.”

• Intelligent eyes stare up at him as he holds out a servo. Half expects you to start crying or to bolt into the jungle anyway. But your tiny hand is warm when you reach out and let him carefully help you up. And you’re filthy, a dark splotch on one cheek that better not be from one of the recruits, your coverings torn. Tensing when you curl your arms around his servo, hanging on to him. Like your life depends on it and really it does. None of those young-bots have ever seen a human before. Have very little respect for organics. But how in the Pit did you get out here?

Next

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → Peter's Valentine's Day breakfast attempt fails, but love and laughter make the day perfect.

You woke to the sharp, blaring sound of the fire alarm, its shrill ring cutting through your peaceful sleep. Groaning, you flung the blanket off and rubbed your eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. The smell of something burned wafted into the bedroom, the unmistakable scent of disaster brewing in the kitchen.

Stumbling out of bed, you made your way to the source of the chaos. As you turned the corner into the kitchen, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of a mess.

Peter stood in front of the stove, frantically waving a towel at the smoke billowing from a frying pan. His hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed, and he looked utterly panicked. Burnt pancakes—if you could even call them that—sat in the pan, a blackened mess.

The fire alarm continued to blare overhead, adding to the pandemonium, and you couldn’t help but sigh. "Peter," you mumbled, voice still groggy with sleep. "You know you can’t cook. Why do you always test the fire alarm?"

He whipped around at the sound of your voice, eyes wide with guilt. "I was trying to make you breakfast in bed!" He exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "It’s Valentine’s Day, and I thought—I don’t know, I thought I could do something nice for you."

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips despite the scene before you. Peter’s heart was always in the right place, even if his culinary skills were... well, nonexistent. Crossing the room, you stood on your toes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re sweet, but I’ve told you before—you’re a menace in the kitchen.”

He huffed, finally managing to turn off the stove and silence the fire alarm with a quick thwip of webbing to the button. The silence that followed was almost deafening, the smell of charred pancakes still hanging heavy in the air. “I just wanted to make you something special,” he muttered, looking down at the ground like a chastised child.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. “You already are special,” you reassured him softly. “You don’t need to cook to prove that.”

He glanced down at you, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Still, it was supposed to be this whole cute thing. You wake up to breakfast, and we eat together, and then, you know… more Valentine’s Day stuff.”

You chuckled at his sheepish tone, pulling back to look up at him. “We can still do all that,” you said, brushing some ash off his cheek. “Minus the pancakes, maybe.”

Peter groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I just really wanted to make today perfect for you.”

You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow. “Who says it’s not perfect? I woke up to the love of my life attempting to cook for me—granted, nearly burning down the kitchen in the process—but it’s still pretty adorable.”

He let out a soft laugh, his arms sliding around you, pulling you closer. “Adorable, huh? That’s one way to describe this disaster.”

You grinned, standing on your toes again to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I mean it. You don’t have to try so hard, Peter. Every day with you is already more than I could ask for.”

His expression softened, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, lovestruck gaze. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“And you’re a giant sap,” you teased, pulling away to grab the spatula from his hand. “Now, let’s see what we can salvage.”

The two of you worked together to clear the mess, Peter mumbling apologies under his breath every now and then as he helped you toss the ruined pancakes in the trash. You decided to keep it simple after that—a few scrambled eggs and some toast. Nothing fancy, but at least nothing would end up in flames.

As you stood side by side at the stove, Peter wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I guess breakfast in bed is a no-go, huh?”

You leaned back into him, the familiar warmth of his body comforting. “We can still eat in bed,” you suggested with a smile. “Just… maybe without the burnt pancakes.”

He hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Deal.”

Once the food was ready, you both piled everything onto a tray and made your way back to the bedroom. It wasn’t the elaborate breakfast Peter had envisioned, but as you sat together under the covers, laughing and feeding each other bites of eggs and toast, it was perfect in its own way.

Peter was still a little bummed about his failed attempt, but you could tell his spirits were lifting with each passing moment. You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Valentine’s Day isn’t about the big gestures,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “It’s about spending time with the person you love. And I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone but you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of warmth and affection.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

As the two of you lay there, tangled together in the sheets with the remnants of your makeshift breakfast beside you, you realized that even the smallest, most imperfect moments could be perfect—because you were with him.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[astervaleblack]

DP X Marvel #18

Dan Phantom had been grounded for a millennium. A million years of suspended animation, locked in the coldest prison the Infinite Realms could provide, where time dripped like sap and the echoes of his own murderous past whispered lullabies into his ears. It had been fair punishment for ripping his original timeline to pieces like confetti at a funeral. He’d deserved it. Probably. Maybe. Not really.

Regardless, he was out now.

On probation.

Which meant he couldn’t technically destroy anything major.

Which meant he technically had freedom.

Which meant—

Dan burst through the veil between dimensions with the violent grace of a dying star and made a beeline—no, a comet-line—for Asgard.

Why? Simple.

Because Loki Odinson existed.

And Dan was going to court him.

With intention.

And possibly fire.

And maybe a few stolen artifacts from the Vault of Eternity.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Odin Allfather, great and wise and absolutely exhausted, nearly choked on his mead when a 6’9” white-haired, blood-eyed menace of a man fell from a tear in reality and landed in the center of Asgard’s Golden Hall, bleeding ambient chaos and making Thor drop Mjolnir mid-rep.

“I AM DAN PHANTOM, PRINCE OF THE INFINITE REALMS!” Dan announced, fangs bared in what could be interpreted as a smile—or a declaration of war. “I HAVE COME TO COURT YOUR SON.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

A holy shit what is happening one.

“Which one?” Odin asked slowly, glancing between Thor and Loki.

Dan turned, eyes glowing with the light of a billion dead stars, and locked onto Loki like a predator sensing a god-shaped snack.

“That one,” he said, voice low and reverent, gesturing toward Loki with a clawed finger. “The dark prince. The bitter frost. The storm in the still. The god carved in hunger and ash. The one whose smile haunts the black spaces between galaxies. You.”

Loki blinked. “…I’m sorry, what?”

Thor, meanwhile, had instinctively shoved his brother behind him and picked up Mjolnir. “He’s clearly mad. A danger to Asgard!”

Dan didn’t even look at him. “I’ve fought worse things than thunder, little boy. I would pluck the sun from Sól’s chariot and offer it like an apple in your brother’s palm.”

Odin stood up. “I forbid this! I don’t know what corner of Hel you’ve crawled from, but you will not—”

“Oh, actually,” Dan interrupted, tilting his head in thought. “Hela and I are old friends. She braided my hair once and taught me how to decapitate a frost giant using only a jawbone.”

In the bleak frost of Hel, Hela laughed so hard she cracked a rib. Her skeletal horde stared at her with a mix of reverence and terror as she shouted, “My brother-in-arms is finally out of time jail! Get me a death-swan, I need to pick a dress. I’m gonna be the best-damned best woman this side of Ragnarok.”

Back in Asgard, Loki had been dragged to a secluded room by Frigga who kept whispering things like “He’s clearly unstable” and “You attract danger like a frostflower attracts flies.”

But Loki was not listening.

Because Loki was already halfway in love.

He was a connoisseur of madness and beauty, of poetry stitched in blood, of things ancient and unfathomable. He saw Dan Phantom’s sharpened fangs and glowing eyes and heard the way he whispered promises of devotion that sounded like death threats.

And he felt something.

Dan knelt in Loki’s chamber, holding a gift in outstretched hands.

“This is the heart of a fallen titan,” Dan said solemnly. “I carved it from his chest after he insulted your intellect.”

It was still beating.

Loki took it and blushed.

“…You’re insane,” he whispered.

Dan leaned closer. “I have watched a thousand dying universes collapse, and in each one, I saw your reflection in the shattered light. I have dreamt of you while floating through collapsed stars. I would slit the throat of time itself for the curl of your smile.”

Frigga burst into the room. “Loki, don’t encourage him!”

But Loki was already petting the heart like a kitten and looking at Dan like he hung the stars in the sky personally.

“I think I might love him,” Loki whispered.

“Oh no,” Frigga said.

Three weeks in, the betting pool had gone viral in the Infinite Realms.

Danny bet Loki would stab Dan by day five.

Jazz bet they’d elope in less than a month.

Dani bet both. Simultaneously.

Clockwork refused to comment.

Dan brought gifts every day.

A Valkyrie’s wing, still twitching.

A singing skull that whispered Loki’s name in every language known to god and ghost.

A crystal vial of Odin’s tears (he didn’t explain how he got them, just that he did, and Odin now had anxiety).

A necklace forged from the melted-down bones of a time-wyrm, engraved with love poetry in the lost language of the Void.

“Your gifts are… unsettling,” Loki said, holding up the skull as it crooned a lullaby in Abyssal.

“They’re tokens of devotion,” Dan replied. “I would make war with the gods for you—not for justice, not for vengeance, but for worship.”

Loki melted on the spot.

Odin cornered Loki one evening. “You must stop this.”

“But father, I love him!”

“He brought you a bouquet of spinal cords, Loki!”

“They were beautifully arranged!”

Eventually, Dan seduced Loki in the way that only an interdimensional menace with apocalyptic charm could. The kind of night that left the Bifröst cracked, Thor traumatized, and half of Asgard whispering in awe and fear.

Loki didn’t walk the next day. He floated.

Odin cried in private.

The wedding was held in Hel. Of course it was.

Hela presided in a gown made of grief and velvet, surrounded by undead musicians and skeletal bridesmaids.

“I now pronounce you harbingers of doom,” Hela intoned with a grin. “You may now kiss your ruin.”

Dan did so with gusto.

Odin fainted.

Thor refused to speak for three weeks.

Frigga gave up and drank with Jazz, who won the betting pool.

Danny and Dani got into a fistfight over who gave the better toast.

On their wedding night, Dan carved a poem into the sky using a blade of starlight and sorrow. It read:

“Let the worlds tremble and the stars scream. You are mine. My ruin, my resurrection. My frost in the flame. My apocalypse wrapped in silk and venom. I have no name but yours, and no destiny but your hand in mine. Until the gods are dust.”

Loki wept.

Then kissed him breathless.

Then demanded they destroy a few realms for fun.

Dan beamed.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[take-everything-you-can]

NO LOVE LOST

Pt.1 .. Pt.2

What happens when Steve finally meets his match... and what happens when she wants absolutely nothing to do with men?

Oh my god I posted this without thanking my queens wtf @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby , @keeryhours thank you for always helping me through any questions and giving me just the inspiration to go for it always !!

18+ minors DNI

WC: 2.9k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader ( nn- Angel)

TW: mentions of divorce, mentions of food, platonic Stobin, male masturbation.

Rolling over to see the sunrise instead of the slope of curves always made Steve feel like he was in a never-ending rut. It was the same old boring routine, the same cycle day in and day out. Today felt different. Instead of loneliness, when he rolled over, he felt a little twinge of hope. 

Hope that got him out of bed before noon and fed his brain with little what-ifs of what could happen tonight. Why? Well, today was Valentine's Day. now he knew what everyone thought what a fucking sap that this was his favorite holiday but fucking sue him. Simply put he was just a guy who loved love and wanted to give what he had and wanted someone to return the fucking favor, but no one ever got the memo. 

Every year he looked forward to the corny paper valentines that would hit the shelves in Melvald’s, the carnations people could buy for their sweetheart in high school, and now that he had become an adult he adored the way he and Robin had made it a tradition to go out. She would wear those cringy cupid wings and make him wear a headband with an arrow that looked like it had gone in one ear and out the other, but he loved it Loved going along with the bit if it made her smile. 

Tonight he was going to get drunk and take someone home, he had a plan. Buy them a drink, flirt his way into the sheets, and maybe in the morning he could look over and not feel so alone. He would pull out all his best moves, maybe even pull a few of Robin's tried and true that she swore by, anything to not go home by himself. 

Hours had passed and he had started to get a little worried since he had heard nothing from Robin about their plans so he decided to text her. 

As his phone rang Steve was tempted to let it go to voicemail but knowing Robin, he couldn’t do it, she would be beyond pissed. 

“This better be good robs.” he was quiet trying to hear her over the music in the background of wherever she was. 

“It’s not ideal but we can’t go out tonight Stevie. I’m so sorry.”  He tried to be mad he did but the wave of sadness overwhelmed him. “ I know you probably hate me right now.” 

“I don’t hate you, never could.” he cut her off quickly. He could hear the giant sigh of relief she let out. 

“look my cousin, she just got divorced and I told her she could stay with me until she got back on her feet and I promised her a night of movies and good pasta. So would you maybe be into doing that instead?” He thought about it, he didn't need Robin to go out but where was the fun in that? 

“ What movies ?” she laughed and told him to just bring his ass or he was going to be on wine duty. He laughed with her because when was he not on wine duty, he always brought extra bottles knowing if Robin said she had two she only had about half of one.

So he made his way to the store to pick up two extra bottles of the nicest wine he could find and threw a few bars of chocolate into the mix while he was at the register. 

“This all for you ? “ the cashier looked at all he had placed on the little conveyor belt and he nodded his head with a small smile. 

“ Indeed it is.” 

“ Lucky partner, I wish mine would do something like this instead I’ll probably go home to a husband that forgot.” Steve sadly gives his grievances and hands over the amount he owes, thanking the cashier for helping him. 

He felt a small glimmer of happiness that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty holiday, but he was also gutted by the fact that they at least were going to get to go home and curl up next to someone who cared enough to marry them. 

The drive wasn’t a long one but god did it feel like it. Robins' small apartment building had a few stories to it and she just so happened to live on the top floor. As he walked up the stairs and towards her door all he could hear was some low rock music floating through. Knocking Robin instantly swung the door open almost as if their platonic telepathy had notified her of his presence but that was shattered as he was shown the screen of her phone.

 “Why did you sit outside in your car for five minutes? You scared Stevie ?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, 'cause you're just so scary Robs.” She gave him a small tug and pulled him into her apartment and the music he had noticed was coming from the kitchen, her small radio blasting out their parent's favorites, the classics as the station called them. 

“It smells amazing” He heard coming from the now open bathroom door, steam rolling out behind you and he found that you were only in a towel. Surprise on both of your faces as you didn’t expect Steve to be here by the time you got out of the shower and for him, well he didn’t expect you to be so drop-dead gorgeous.  Robin nudges Steve in the stomach with her elbow to get him to shut his mouth since it had slightly dropped open at the sight before him. 

“Steve this is my cousin we just call her Angel.” Steve looked at Robin with an upturned smile thinking about how cute her name was, how true it sounded. 

“It’s not my name but I had a cat named Lucifer growing up and you know Fallen Angel and all that blah blah blah.” She walks away and into Robin's guest room, steve assumes to get dressed, and turning to Robin he pushes her back for the sharp jab she had given to his ribcage. 

“You didn’t tell me she was a walking fucking dream, Buckley.” He hissed out low, scared he would be overheard. 

“Not like you have a chance, Steve, she is one my cousin, and two” she also drops down to a whisper. “ Recently divorced.” 

“So? If anything I’d say my chances are pretty fucking up there.” She just rolls her eyes and tells him she is going to take a quick shower of her own before the movie marathon she has planned out and asks him to finish up making dinner. 

He doesn’t mind, he thinks cooking is calming and honestly it turns his brain off from everything. Sometimes he would make a batch of cookies just to find peace before bed. It was soothing, the process of doing the same thing over and over again and getting the same delicious outcome.

The scent of coconut and rose, a weird mix of the two that worked well hit him, turning to find you standing at the other end of Robin's island. 

“I brought some wine for the movies. Would you like a glass?” He took a bottle out of the fridge and grabbed three glasses out of the cabinet. Pouring one for you and one for himself. He hated warm wine and so did Robin so he just put the bottle back in the fridge until she was ready for one.

“You know your way around robins huh?” You questioned, a subtle shift in your tone and Steve thinking nothing of it answered. 

“Yeah, it's like my second home honestly.” He turned back to stir the pasta Robin had set to simmer and watched as you sipped on your glass slowly.  

“Sorry that I ruined your and Robins's plans she said you guys go out every year.” Steve felt the way his shoulders tensed and shrugged.

 “It's nothing just a little tradition.” You sigh walking over to where Steve is standing next to the stove and taking a spoon to the sauce. Tasting it you look Steve in the eye and tell him the pasta needs some pepper. He takes a different spoon tastes it and agrees that it does need something but not pepper it needs something light. So instead he grabs a lemon and grates a bit of it creating the zest he wants to flourish. 

You roll your eyes walk over to where you had begun this interaction and pick your glass back up. Steve is standing wondering what exactly he could have done to upset you in the mere minutes you were alone with him and he comes up blank.

 “Do we .. is there a problem Angel?” You put a hand on your hip and smile. 

“Nope, no problem I just think it's kinda strange you are all alone on Valentine's Day.”  And he doesn't mean to, he tries to hold it back but something in your tone sounded like every single past partner's accusation of something being fundamentally wrong with him. 

“I could say the same about you but looks like we are both alone.” 

“Who's alone?” Robin pops herself back into the kitchen and grabs some plates from a cupboard behind Steve. 

“We are, all three of us so painfully single.” You say staring at Steve before taking a plate from Robin that she had filled. She laughs but deep inside it hits Steve like a car to a brick wall. Painfully single, god was he that transparent? Did he just give off that vibe? 

“I never said I was single.” You hum taking your plate to the couch and leave him and Robin in the kitchen. She is biting her lip with a sorry look in her eyes. 

“I told her we usually spend Valentine's Day looking for someone to spend breakfast with, hate me all you want. “ 

“Could never “She hands him a plate and sets it down to fill up her glass. Walking over to her living room to find that you had taken his space on the couch, the one he always sat in. The one he could hear best from, see the subtitles from the distance, but you were snuggled in. You had a blanket over your lap and your plate had rested against your chest while you ate and all in his fucking spot.  So he took the other cushion a bit off from where the screen could be read clearly but he could just ask Robin to turn it up a bit more. He could do this … right? Get through one Valentine's Day that Cupid decided not to grace him on. He could turn this thing around. 

He couldn't. Working on the second bottle close to being finished with sixteen candles and a craving for cake himself Steve could confidently say he could not turn this night around. He had tried to get comfortable in his position and he just couldn’t he felt like your eyes were on him throughout the entire movie which led to him sipping his glass a bit more and now he was past the point of tipsy he was drunk, but at least he wasn't the only one. 

Every time he had gotten up to pour himself some more you and Robin would hold your glasses out for a refill and he would more than happily do that, he did, until wine turned into small sips of whatever cheap vodka Robin had in the back of her freezer. When the movie ended he carried Robin to her room since she had passed out in her large chair sometime around the wedding scenes.

Deciding that he would do the best friend thing and tackle the dishes he began running the water and waiting for it to turn warm which always took forever in Robin’s apartment, he swore the heater was starting to go bad but she kept telling him that if it wasn't giving her a cold shower she didn't care. He lathered the dishes setting them on the rack when he was done rinsing them and you had appeared next to him, now dressed in a robe over the comfortable p.js you had been wearing. 

Thinking you would just say something but instead just stood there watching him. 

“Can I assist you with something?” He could hear the small huff of air that left you like you didn’t expect him to acknowledge your existence. 

“Why are you washing our dishes.” He didn’t understand but answered. 

“Well you are a guest and Robin hates a dirty sink and I honestly don’t mind doing it-”

“Well stop, you aren’t getting anything out of doing them so just stop. “ Now he was on a whole different planet because what in the fuck were you talking about. 

“Excuse me? Who said I needed to get anything just to do the dishes? I don't know who made you feel the need to use everything as a transaction but that is not how things go around here. You see it needs to be done, you do it. No, do this and you shall receive . Fuck you ever just done anything to be a nice person?” He could feel the heat in his cheeks with the alcohol flowing through him, his eyes staring at the room like it was on an axis, and his tone starting to rise in the audacity of wanting something out of Robin. An accusation, another from someone who this time didn’t even know him. 

“I’m so-” 

“Save it. I just want to go to bed I suggest you do the same.” 

“ Do not think for one second you are doing this for nothing.” it stops him on his way to his little makeshift bed on the couch. “ You men are all the same, even if it's not for something transactional you still end up on the side of gain Steven.” He was stuck still, not knowing how to even respond. Who had hurt you into thinking all men were the same? Maybe they were in a club with all of his exes, the ones who made him feel the same way. That all women were set on their relationship with him never going farther unless he was to act like he did in high school, unless he took on the persona of his father. He would never so here he was on Valentine's Day alone, drunk and sleeping on his best friend's couch with a person who hated all men not even a hundred feet away. Lovely. 

He didn’t know what time it was when he laid down the numbers on the box beneath Robin's television had been too blurry then, but as the hours went on the numbers seemed to brighten and they now read three a.m. tossing and turning, tired or not being able to find a comfortable position and you, your voice was running through his head over and over, telling him he was only a nice guy for profit. Who the fuck were you to judge him? You didn’t know anything about him and then it sent him on a tangent of well, he didn’t know you either. He could only see what was on the surface, and although the surface was breathtaking he felt the twinge of wanting to know you deep, know the center of what made you, and change your perspective on men, or at least on him. 

The longer he thought about you the harder it was to stray away from the thoughts of your face and the way your body looked in that towel. The water dripped from your hair before you had put it up, letting the droplets fall in between-.

Alright, he had to stop, he couldn't think of you that way, or could he? He listened out to see if he heard anything but all he heard was the ice dumping from the fridge and soft snores coming from down the hall. Was he really about to do this? 

His dick answered for him, half hard at the thought of just having you drop the towel was all he needed. He let his hand wander under the thin blanket that he had covering himself. Gripping his cock through his boxers and felt the weight of it and squeezed letting it fill out before he slipped his hand beneath the waistband. He started stroking himself wishing it was your mouth on him and you had dropped to your knees in front of him, inviting him in with the warmth. Letting the pre he had slide down his shaft with some help but it just wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up to his mouth and spit in it imagining that it was you who had provided and he let his fist wrap around the length again. The slick wet sounds worked him up and he took and pushed his boxers out of the way with his other hand. Letting his hips buck into the pull of his dick, hissing out at the feeling of his release approaching fast. 

“Need a hand?” 

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Okay so like as I’m writing this, tomorrow is my birthday (I’m gonna be 19 😭) and I was wondering if I could get some birthday headcanons with the legion of horribles (poly but platonic) + (separately) zsasz?🥺

You don’t have to finish this on my birthday so I understand if it will take time but if you can do it that would be wonderful! Don’t feel pressured though!

Thank you so much Cupid!^^🫂

'400 LUX,

-GOTHAM!VILLIANS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Oswald Cobblepot, Jerome Valeska, Bridgit Pike, Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane, Victor Fries, Victor Zsasz

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Birthday HCs with the Legion of Horribles! (+ romantic zsasz)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. PURE FLUFF! They adore reader so so so much! Reader turning 19 :> Age gap for Zsasz! All seven of these idiots. Good luck reader, you will need it!! Suggestive parts in Zsasz's. Reader probably drinking too much tea to be healthy. Also sorry I'm a little late with this, hectic week but happy late bday adal <3 love ya!

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you?” 400 Lux by Lorde

Number one spoiler!

No seriously, good luck. You are basically Martin #2. He's buying the most extravagant gifts, and hosting the birthday party. He's getting mad at Jervis and Jerome (anyone who can't keep there mouth shut for the surprise.)

Hectically organizing this whole mess. To his best ability. Eventually he gives up under the stress and you'll notice. Just have a little sit down with him, and he'll HAPPILY celebrate your birthday far away from everyone else.

Once you two have a minute alone, he's making you his mothers tea, telling you all about his birthdays and how she used to celebrate them with him. He really just wants to make this the best day for you possible.

Have a small little laugh with him on the couch, look at baby pictures of him around the mansion, watch him get red in the face and scowl just a teeny tiny bit.

He'll also scroll through your phone (he's horrible with technology) and look at your baby pictures too. You two end up having a good laugh and a semi-serious talk about childhood memories <3

He'll end up giving you his most personal gift when you two are alone, away from the "cretins outside" in his words.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴

♫ “We might be hollow but we're brave.” 400 Lux by Lorde

The only time he's 100 percent serious is when he's busy with the sheer EFFORT he's putting into this celebration.

Him and Oswald have conflicting ideas. Oswald wants something extravagant, royal, fit for you, like a coming of age. Jerome still wants to throw you a ball, but more like a child's dream chucky-cheese type birthday.

What do you mean he can't get a bunch of arcade machines and a ball pit delivered to the mansion? He's pouting.

He'll be DAMNED if he doesn't book the entertainment and a GIANT cake, though.

Will get Jervis to hypnotize some poor sap to dance for you. You know, if you're into that. Might kill him too if you're a little evil like him. If you aren't into that, he'll let him live. That's your gift :>

Did i say a GIANT cake? Yeah. It's massive. FUCKING MASSIVE. He probably ends up eating more of it then you guys, to be honest.

Makes sure it's your favorite flavor too.

Makes everyone sit down when it's time for cake and candles, if anyone tries to get up he's screaming at the top of his lungs.

Remember that "USE THE TONGS, CARL!" Yeah, he's channeling that energy to the hypnotized people cutting the cake and setting the table.

Fully looks at you like a successor (and like, his only real friend) so he's a bit pushy for this to go well. Not as much as Oswald, but still set on making this a good day for you. He just isn't as overt.

𝐵𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐺𝐼𝑇 𝑃𝐼𝐾𝐸

♫ “And the heating comes on.” 400 Lux by Lorde

Poor baby has never seen, attended, or had a birthday party in her life. It's new for her, it's intriguing. She loves this little strange family you guys have created.

You are LITERALLY her little sister, the only sibling she truly sees as her own!

It's obligatory for her to light the birthday candles (and almost burn the mansion down, chaos ensues)

Similar to Oswald, she gives you one intimate gift. Something she knows you'll love, something personal. You're favorite flowers, gems, or even a nod to an inside joke.

Arguing with Victor (Fries) about who has the better gift and who you like more.

When the day is nearing it's end, she volunteers to clean up to have some time alone with you. Everyone else is winding down, but you and her will get to talk like two best friends.

It's the only time she feels like a normal teenage girl. Just gossiping with you while putting Jerome's confetti in trash bags.

You'll probably have a little slumber party with her in the living room, eating left-over snacks and watching TV, throwing popcorn at each other. Speaking of popcorn....

"Hey, watch this!" She's nudging you, getting you to watch her make her own popcorn kernels with her flamethrower, signature smile on her face :>

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻

♫ “You drape your wrists over the steering wheel.” 400 Lux by Lorde

He was fighting tooth and nail for this to be a tea party. Still upset it's not. Ended up still hypnotizing someone to make tea for you all. Ah, Small victories.

Also? We saw him in that chauffer outfit. He will gladly be the designated driver.

Similar to the rest of them, he wants some time alone with you. So, he's hypnotizing a limo and pulling up and practically stealing you away.

Takes you on a little shopping spree. Anywhere you want to go, he'll take you there! Even if he doesn't particularly enjoy it. (cough cough, convince stores, cough cough)

Wants to take you to the tea shoppes and bakeries.

He is LITERALLY the most BUSY bee out of EVERYONE. Everyone is so obsessed with planning and whatnot, but he actually has to do EVERYTHING by himself.

Whose hypnotizing the cake maker, the gifts, the decorations, the people, the waiters? Ah, the list goes on and on. He's a bit tuckered out by the time you too are done shopping and he's off his list of errands.

Have a cup of tea with him after <3 he will be infinitely grateful to wind down with you if you find the time during the day.

Sings happy birthday obnoxiously loud for you. He also insists everyone has perfect table manners and etiquette. (Looking at you, Jerome.)

𝐽𝛰𝑁𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁 𝐶𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I can tell that you're tired.” 400 Lux by Lorde

Silent, for the most part. Will refuse to sing happy birthday, and will truly only participate if it's the two of you alone. He...doesn't work well in groups.

He's getting a slap on the wrist from everyone because of it.

He'd MUCH rather steal you away periodically through the day, to just talk to you about your childhood. Congratulate you. He's happy for you, but he's a little scared you're getting older.

Very protective. Always. No matter what.

You might hear him laugh a bit, joke around with you, just simply checking the surroundings and chaos from Jerome.

If you are someone who prefers things more lowkey, you'll find yourself spending the majority of the day with Jonathan. Eventually you two will just pass by each other every now and then, and share a brief respite from the bustling outside.

You are TRULY his best friend. He wants to make this day as good for you as everyone else does. He just doesn't know where to start.

He'll probably end up giving you your favorite gift out of EVERYONE.

Doesn't matter what it is. He'll know. It will be intimate, genuine, and a very heartfelt message on the bottom of a card attached.

"Love you, Y/N." -Jonathan

Okay, not SUPER heartfelt at first look, but for him? It's as close as you'll get to him being vulnerable.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆

♫ “We're getting good at this.” 400 Lux by Lorde

Jerome puts him on ice-cream duty and he's reasonably grumpy.

No, but genuinely, this is a VERY special day for him. He's a VERY proud dad!

Always wanted to have kids with Nora. Never got a chance. You really are his second chance at happiness, and he loves you so much. He gets to live out everything he thought he'd never be able too.

Wants to get more involved, but gets a little pushed out between Jerome and Oz.

Jerome probably makes him make ice sculptures. Or Ozzie asks him to freeze the body of your enemies. Perfect gift!

Similar to Jonathan, likes to keep things more lowkey. He'll sneak in a pseudo father daughter bonding moment, even if you don't know.

"So, uh, you're staying out trouble, right?"

He's asking, nudging you when you two finally get a moment alone. His voice comes out in a mumble, obviously not very experienced in this role of being a father. But he can't help it.

Overprotective dad scowling at Zsasz, you know, to get the point across. Zsasz staring riiiiiiight back.

"Just so you know...if you break her heart, I'm freezing yours." Victor #1 says, with a clicking sound, and a raise of his gun.

Victor #2 raises a non-existent eyebrow, and lifts his own gun in return. "Of course..." He drawls. The idle threats are there.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “You pick me up and take me home again / We're hollow like the bottles that we drain.” 400 Lux by Lorde

He's a loving boyfriend, you just have to get through his layers throughout the day!

Of course, he's your ride to and from the mansion. Driving with him, his hand on your thigh, disco music. Waking you up with kisses and birthday sex

He's grumbling just a bit everyone else wants to steal you away. Que him being a sassy boyfriend, rolling his eyes.

He ends up just standing around the mansion most of the day, sneaking bites of pastries or making idle conversation with the terrified waiters, while you are out with Jervis. He doesn't mind. It's your day. He is more then happy, this is his element. A whole day dedicated to his girl, and free food? Sign him up.

In contrast to everyone, he's the only person to give you a gag gift. Surprisingly, Jerome takes this too seriously to give you one. Victor doesn't, though. He'll give you a whole bunch of small gag gifts, just to see that beautiful smile on your face.

He'll end up getting you a real gift though. Something precious, gorgeous, elegant. Something absolutely killer. Black onyx necklace? Yes. You'll feel the leather of his gloves on your neck while he puts it on you.

Doesn't care if ANYONE looks at the two of you weirdly for the age gap. In fact, he'll become even MORE affectionate. Y'know, just to piss people off.

Speaking of age, he doesn't care you aren't 21 just yet. He's 100% sneaking the two of you some alcohol to drink. (Not without teasing you, of course, for being a downright horrible criminal!)

Oswald, Victor Fries, and Jervis don't appreciate you drinking. They are too protective. But Zsasz doesn't gaf what they say :>

[capriceandwhimsy]

Sailor Moon vs. The God Emperor of Man

As fun as it's been seeing the argument over who would win in terms of Sailor Moon vs. The God Emperor of Mankind, I think we're ignoring an important factor: setting rules.

Power Scalers always ignore that characters don't exist in a vacuum. They're a part of the universe they're in. And the universes of Sailor Moon and Warhammer 40,000 operate on very different themes and tropes.

=====

See, if Usagi and the Sailor Senshi were in the 40k universe, all their adventures would be portrayed as legends of an ancient time, before the current fallen state of the Galaxy. The major theme of Warhammer 40,000 being "The good old times are over, there is only decay and rot." It's not that all the things she did didn't happen, they just didn't mean anything when looked at through the lens of deep, DEEP time.

So Usagi would end up becoming the Queen of the Ancient Fallen Empire of the Moon Crystal Kingdom, and would be a million-year-old God Empress with her legions of Sailor Senshi super-soldiers, their bodies twisted and their minds degraded from aeons of battle against The Warp, each usage of their Sailor powers sapping some of their humanity until they are but empty husks of their former selves.

Each of the Sailor Senshi would be a hero model on a 50mm base and would cost about $40 msrp and 300 points to run. Usagi herself would be on a big oval base and be represented sitting on a giant crystal throne with an enormous number of crystal spires around her, shooting Moon Crystal Energy. She would be a god-level threat with the ability to destroy planets with a wave of her hand.

A named Ultramarine without a helmet would probably ruin all her plans and solo Sailor Mars. Because the only thing more powerful than galaxy-destroying psychic powers is plot armor.

=====

If The God-Emperor were in the Sailor Moon universe, he'd be a seasonal villain, like Queen Beryl or Sailor Galaxia. Each episode or two, he'd send a different Primarch to cause trouble, each of whom would use a different power set (Primarch Vulkan with his flame powers, Primarch Lion'el with his forestwalking powers and his skill at swords), and each one would be defeated by the Sailor Scouts.

At the end of the season, it would turn out that the Emperor's plan was to use up his Primarch Senshi and reclaim their soul energy, and thus enact his Great Crusade to conquer the galaxy. The Sailor Scouts would be slain, and Usagi would be destroyed, but at the moment of her death, she would have a vision of the Emperor as a young man, a scientist and a father who truly cared about his Primarchs and wanted to create mighty heroes to help humanity, but was twisted and turned to evil by the Lords of Chaos.

Usagi would defeat the Lords of Chaos with the help of the souls of the Sailor Senshi and the Lost Primarchs, as well as calling upon the last bit of nobility in the Emperor's Soul to help destroy the Lords of Chaos at their source.

In the end, the timeline would be reset, and all would be forgotten. But as Usagi goes to school the next day, she would find out that there's a new teacher at her school: Mister Jimmy Space, a transfer from another school. And he'd have brought nineteen new transfer students with him.

[vllergy]

freedom of nature's gifts

h/alsin b/g3 allergy, kink tav, 2.1k for those not familiar with the fandom: enormous kinky beefcake bear-coded druid who is felled by nothing wanders off into the woods to sneeze without disturbing his companions for those familiar: pls enjoy astarion being an absolute bitch about it for .5 seconds regular goodies: allergies, vouyuerism, partner with the kink extra flavor: giant man, giant snz, formerly indomitable force meets pollen, forced politeness, h/alsin being a sap tbh THIS IS JUST FOR ME I WROTE THIS FOR ME OK SORRY YOU HAVE TO SEE IT

“And here I thought druids were supposed to appreciate all of nature’s many charms.” Astarion’s musical voice drips with amusement. Tav picks up on it outside his tent as the lithe shadow of the elf passes over the sun drenched silk of his doorway. Just behind him, Karlach’s larger figure marches diligently along the same path.

“Oh, he’s appreciating them all right,” she snorts.

Tav rubs his eyes and rolls over. It’s morning, or at least it feels like it from the ache in his spine and the slightly cool air whisking over from the lake. He picks his head up and tries to follow the thread of conversation. His companions are talking about a druid, so they must mean Halsin. Tav hasn’t seen him since the night before.

Memories come warm and sticky like honey. Halsin’s hazel eyes fond in firelight. A low chuckle. A massive hand settled onto the small of Tav’s back. His heart quickens just at the thought.

Outside, Karlach sighs with a note of sympathy. “Never heard anyone sneeze so much in my life.”

Tav’s heartbeat nearly catapults out of his chest at that. His fingers fist in his blankets before he tears them away and scrambles up. Despite wishing to burst free from the tent like a demon, he tries to make his movements as unhurried as possible. It’s with great effort that he emerges from his sleeping arrangements without appearing impatient and affects a bored glance over at the others as they settle around the warm embers from last nights campfire.

“Morning,” Tav says and makes a show of scrubbing his eyes.

“Good morning to you too, darling,” Astarion purrs, “And aren’t you looking lovely?”

“Heya, soldier. You sleep okay?” Karlach waves.

Tav nods. His patience has limits, however. “What were you guys talking about?”

Karlach gestures back over her shoulder towards the tree line, “Halsin. Surprised you didn’t hear him earlier this morning. Poor guy was sneezing his head off before he crawled off to the woods to do it in private.”

The warm flooding of pleasure in Tav’s stomach doesn’t stop his momentary concern. “Is he alright?”

Astarion’s eyes glitter with amusement, “He says it’s the flowers growing nearby setting him off.”

The vampire looks positively delighted to be delivering said information, as if he knows what it’s doing to Tav. Tav knows that’s impossible, and Astarion is clearly just tickled by the irony of it all, but it still makes his cheeks flush with unexpected warmth.

“A druid with allergies! Ha!” Astarion claps his hands once, “You can’t make this up.”

“I should go see if he needs anything,” Tav chews the inside of his lip. His body feels like it’s full of needles.

Thankfully, he has a well-known weak spot when it comes to Halsin. His abrupt need to go to check on him isn’t exactly out of the ordinary, nor is it any cause for suspicion. Astarion merely waves him off with a delicate hand and Karlach nods sagely. “Tell him he can come back any time, big guy’s too hard on himself.”

“I’d rather he stay out there,” Astarion balks, “I’d like to preserve my hearing, thank you very much.”

Tav leaves them to squabble and heads for the tree line where Karlach indicated. He knows he should probably change into something other than the clothes he slept in but he’s too warm already and the thought of delaying getting to Halsin makes her skin feel even more prickly and sharp.

—

Given how familiar he is with the volume with which Halsin can expel an irritant, Tav has some idea of what he’s getting into. Even still, the first far off sneeze he manages to catch once he’s in proximity stuns him with its power. The druid still has to be a few hundred feet off but Tav hears it clear as day. It's an unrushed, heavy thing with so much of Halsin’s voice in it, his knees go weak.

It only takes him a matter of moments to close in on his lover’s position. And when he does, the sight there unravels him completely.

Tav has never seen Halsin at the mercy of anything that wasn’t his animal form. That particular loss of control has always been wickedly erotic to him as well, just for the sheer rarity of it. It's not something Halsin enjoys succumbing to, however. The first time it happened when they made love, he’d been apologetic about it. Sheepish, even.

Halsin is a man who is undaunted by much of anything. It’s not surprising that the few things able to bring him to his knees are difficult for him to come to grips with. Tav thinks surrender must be a strange concept for a man who has burdened himself with nothing but crippling responsibility for over a millennia. When is the last time Halsin let himself truly be vulnerable to something? Does he remember how to surrender?

Tav would argue that yes, he does, because that's the only word that describes what’s happening here.

Halsin’s sitting under the cover of a tree on a large stump. He’s clearly been in the throes of this fit for some time, true to Astarion and Karlach’s report. Evidenced by the redness of his nostrils, the tears slicked down his tattooed cheek and the limp handkerchief laid open in his massive palm. The man appears breathless, panting with indulgent, open-mouthed gasps as his nostrils swell. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes as he lets another clockwork sneeze take him.

“huh’uRRSSCHHHH’HOO!”

if he’d been using the handkerchief before, he’s abandoned it now, optioning to simply sneeze down in its general direction rather than try to contain any part of the expulsion. And Tav can see why. There’s hardly any point. Halsin's sizable chest swells with one, languid breath and whatever fire’s been stoked within his sinuses catches again and he sneezes without reprieve.

“hh’RRRAAAASSH’UUE!”

He still hasn’t opened his eyes. Tav wonders how long he’s been stuck like this, in an endless cycle of chest-clearing sneezes with barely a breath between. The idea of it being more than a few minutes is deeply intriguing to him, but also a little worrying. How much can one man possibly sneeze? He’s never seen Halsin like this. In fact, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen the druid sneeze. Tav has, after all, been paying attention.

“hh’RrrRSSCHH! hh? Hh! Hh’hhRRUSSh'SHOO!” Halsin teeters on the edge of a third, eyebrows bunched together, an allergic tear sliding down his cheek. He hangs on the precipice for an agonizing moment before roaring with the ferocity of a bear into the final one. “Hh’hhRrAAASSCHHH’uHH!!!”

His shoulders tremble with the force and Tav’s vested interest in the display finally makes room for guilt. He steps forward, purposely landing hard enough on the foliage underfoot to snap a twig and announce his presence.

“Halsin?” He calls.

The druid tenses. He straightens up and his eyes flash over to the treeline, surprised and a little guilty. He attempts a smile as color rises to his cheeks.

“Ah, my heart! I did not hhhea—excuse mhee’hh’WHFFHSHH!” He turns away promptly and smothers the harsh sneeze into his handkerchief, cutting the volume in half.

The propriety he insists on in front of Tav makes Tav’s legs feel like jelly. Moments ago he was sneezing with reckless abandon into the open air without a care in the world, but now he insists on sparing his lover from the display for a reason Tav can't ordain. They've seen each other bloodied and spent a thousand different ways before. How is this any different? Halsin twists away from him further, his massive shoulders swelling as he ducks into the handkerchief again. “H’hWHHFFSSShH!"

“Seven Hells, Halsin,” Tav murmurs. He lays a hand on the man’s back, “Bless you.” "My thhha-"

Tampering back those massive sneezes seems to make them vindictive, and Halsin can’t even get a proper thanks out before he's flinching back into a reflexive fit of them, once more trapped in his sodden handkerchief.

“wFFHSCHH! H’tSSCHh!” Halsin lifts his head and gasps desperately. Tav feels an odd sense of relief as the druid eschews a sense decorum for a cleansing, powerful third. “hhrh’RRSHHH-SHOO!”

“My thanks,” he murmurs directly after, but tends to his nose quickly before turning back to Tav. He sniffles unproductively and Tav notices his nostrils sharpening as they flare in an effort to stave off what he’s sure is another impending sneeze.

Tav gently tucks a lock of auburn hair that’s come loose from a braid behind Halsin’s pointed ear.

“Bless you,” Tav frowns, “How long has this been going on?”

Halsin looks dangerously close to another sneeze, but blinks furiously until the need abates. His auburn lashes look darker with irritated tears. He sniffs as delicately as he can, which Tav can only assume is incredibly unsatisfying, and gives a weak smile.

“The better part of the morning, I fear.”

“You could have woken me,” Tav murmurs, stroking fingers through his long hair.

Halsin chuckles, “I thought I might have, given the racket I was m—ma—ah, oohn...onnce more, apologies—“ He turns away and clamps the handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “h’WHFFHSHH'uhh!"

His lungs fill and he dips lower towards his lap.

“hh'RrSCHH!”

“I believe that was twice,” Tav teases, despite feeling his trousers getting uncomfortably tight.

Halsin lifts his head just enough to try and find a dry edge of the handkerchief. It doesn’t happen in time. His hazel eyes go narrow, unfocused, and he sneezes across it and his knuckles.

“Huh’uSSHH’HOO!”

“Gods, Halsin.” Halsin gives an experimental sniff. When he's certain it's not going to lead to another sneeze, he sags slightly and tilts his head back. "Oak Father preserve me." Tav's delirious at this point. He crouches down to get to Halsin's eye level, his hand lingering on the druid's knee. “How long does this usually go on?” Tav asks, worries for both of them at this point.

Halsin sniffs hard and finally finds the dry edge of the handkerchief, using it rather anticlimactically to dab at his raw nostrils. He blows his nose once while shaking his head. "Truthfully, I'm not certain. It hasn't been this bad in some time." "Would changing shape help?" Halsin chuckles, "Then, I would be sneezing as a bear." "Is that more pleasant?" "Perhaps for some," Halsin's eyes shimmer with sudden mischief beyond the allergic tears. Tav blinks. He takes a moment to process, then gapes. He smacks Halsin's knee and the druid gives a chesty laugh. "You bastard, how long have you known?" Tav asks. "My heart, you are many things, but subtle is not one of them," Halsin knuckles at his reddened nose and gives a warm smile that makes Tav melt on the spot. "Look, it's not like I meant to enjoy your suffering, I--" Halsin holds up a hand, "When have I ever given you the impression that you need apologize for your desires?"

Tav blushes. Halsin continues sniffling and tugs him forward by the hip. As he stumbles closer, Tav reaches for his face. His thumb clears away the track of an allergic tear from Halsin’s scarred cheek. "I do feel bad that you're miserable.”

“If it brings you pleasure,” Halsin says, his voice low, “Then I am not miserable.”

Tav lowers himself into Halsin’s lap. The druids hands dwarf his waist as he supports him, and also prevent him from worrying at his nose as he starts to lose himself to into the persistent tickle once more. Halsin goes to raise an arm but Tav captures it, lowering it back to his hip.

Halsin, to his credit, doesn’t even stop to question it. He lets the sneeze take him over fully, though habit still makes him turn his head as it barrels through him.

“h’HHRRUSSCHHH!”

Now that he’s seated astride him, Tav can feel the way his body clenches. Halsin has to be three hundred pounds of solid muscle, and each one of them turns to steel as he surrenders himself to the sensation. His chest quivers under Tav’s eager hands as he waits torturously for a second and his other hand reaches around the small of his back, holding the smaller man in place as he--

“uh'Hhh-!...huuh...eh'HUHH’ESSH’SHOO!”

Spray dapples in the sunlight from a break in the canopy of trees above. Tav's almost unseated from the man's lap with that one but certainly has no complaints. He's beaming as Halsin sniffles blearily once more and dips close to kiss at Tav's throat. "Tell the Oak Father I said thanks," Tav murmurs in bliss. That earns him a sharp pinch from Halsin, but thankfully no fewer kisses.

[doomtrooper77]

Mr. Vincent

It was late at the diner, and I was their last customer. I had just gotten off the second shift and was boned tired. I stopped at the diner because they had good food, and I wasn't interested in McDonald's or other fast food. My belly was full of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli, and a big slice of banana cream pie. One of the cooks was putting the chairs on the tables and mopping the floor. They hadn't rushed me, but I was just about done when a loud knock at the door. Everybody looked up and looked at the door. At first, I didn't see anything, except that it looked like something was blotting out the street light. I saw the cook look back at Bill, the owner, cleaning up the counter. The look on the owner's face paled.

They looked at each other, and then the room shook as someone outside knocked on the steel frame of the glass door. It was hard enough that the wall shook and the windows rattled. We all jumped, and the owner said, "Let him in. "My curiosity quickly turned to worry as the look on their faces. Mind you, Al was the cook who was cleaning up the floor. Al was a big guy, 6'2", and a good 275 pounds of beef. I had seen him come from the kitchen to deal with unruly customers. Those guys were few and far between here.

Al walked to the door and unlocked it. He pushed it open, and a fucking hulk walked in. 6'6 and tipping the scales in the high 300's if not more. Before Al could get out of the way, the big man walked in and brushed past Al, his massive shoulder pushing him out of the way without a thought. Dressed in a black tank top, tight blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a pair of combat lead SAP gloves on his massive hands. He power swaggered up to the counter. He had the power waddle walk massive guys had because of the size of their legs. He stopped at the counter and said, "How we doing tonight Bill?" His voice was deep and resonant. The owner replied back, "Doing ok, Mr. Vincent."

"That issue with the garbage collection and supply deliveries is back to normal, " Mr. Vincent asked again. His tone of voice said he knew that whatever issue there had been wasn't an issue anymore. "No issues, garbage collections are fine, and the holdup on restaurant supplies has disappeared. Thank you." Al said. Mr. Vincent smiled, and it was friendly, like a wolf. Mr. Vincent didn't say anything but just waited. Seconds ticked by, and no one moved. Mr. Vincent's head tilted slightly to the side, and Bill jumped. "Oh, sorry." Bill reached under the counter and found a fat envelope he handed Mr. Vincent. Mr. Vincent took the envelope. He hefted it in that big gloved hand and slid it into his back pocket. "You have a good night now, Bill, and let us know if you have any more problems. We are always happy to help." Mr. Vincent said, clapping Bill on the shoulder with that big hand, and I could see him squeeze. Bill winced.

Mr. Vincent turned and started walking back out past my table. His steel grey eye locked on to me. Why? because I was staring like an idiot. I felt like my gaze was trapped by a predator in the dark. When he got to my table, he stopped and loomed above me. His face was hard, and his gaze was sharp. My mouth went dry, but I couldn't look away. My gaze was stuck to his eyes, yet I couldn't help but look at all that muscle mass. All that power. I was sure he was about to ask what I was looking at. To wonder why I was so interested in business that was not my own.

He lifted that big SAP glove-covered hand and pulled his index finger through the slice of pie I hadn't finished eating. That big finger easily gathered up half of the slice of pie in one swipe, and he stuck it in his mouth. He pulled his finger out of his mouth and said, "Bill makes a damn good pie, don't he?" Mr. Vincent said to me. My response was immediate and automatic from the depths of my soul. "Yes, Sir."

With a cupped palm, he tapped the side of my face twice. It felt like the side of my head had been palmed by a giant leather-coated mitt. It didn't hurt, but that simple gesture showed how powerful he was. Which was precisely what he meant to do. Mr. Vincent smirked and said, "Good boy."

Licking his lips, he walked out of the diner and blended into the night. I was staring at the door and barely noticed as Bill walked up to my table and was talking. I turned and said, "What?" Bill replied, "I said I was so sorry about that. Let me get you another piece of pie." He reached for my plate, and I grabbed it and held it tight. "That's ok, I'll finish this one," I said. He looked at me quizzically, and then I replied, "It's late, but I will take one to go if you want."

When Bill went to the back to get me another piece of pie, I ate the rest of the pie on the plate. Al looked at me as I scraped my fork across the ceramic surface.

When I got home, I should have gone straight to sleep. Instead, I undressed, went into the chest in my closet, and pulled out the pair of tight Damascus gloves I love. I slid the black leather onto my hands. In bed, I landed back and thought about Mr. Vincent. My cock was in my left hand, and in my right was dragging my gloved finger through that extra piece of pie. In my head, the finger in my mouth was Mr. Vincent's. In addition to feeding me this pie, Mr. Vincent did so many other bad things to me. I shot my load twice before I fell asleep with a banana cream pie in my beard and crumb in my bed.

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic Yanderes

(Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist)

Enji Todoroki:

His own child, whom he previously spurned.

He regrets it. God, he regrets it so much. The memories seethe inside him like an angry scar, pulsing in pain.

“I made dinner, Dad! I knew you’d be out late, so I stayed up to make sure you had something to eat!” He doesn’t sit down to to eat or say thank you. He grabs the plate from your hands and stomps off to his own room to eat, casting a baleful glare to you as he does. At least you’re good for something, he thinks.

He doesn’t think like that anymore. Do you know that, Y/N? You are worth so much more than he ever let you know.

“Hey, dad. You wanna go out jogging? Fuyumi grew out of her old tracksuit and gave it to me, and I wanted to see if-“

You cut yourself off when he glares at you, a withering look on his face. He stares down at you, a sneer turning the corners his lips. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me,” he snaps at you, walking away and slamming the door as he exits.

But you never actually thought you’d be able to keep up. You knew you’d fall behind. You just wanted to spend time with him, didn’t you? He’ll spend as much time with you as he can from now on, Y/N.

“Do you want to train with me? I’d be happy to put up some targets for you!” You smile, tiny bits of ice sparking on your hands. That smile doesn’t reach your eyes anymore, not when you’re talking to Dad. “There’s nothing you can put up that I wouldn’t melt right through. You don’t have the skill.” As expected, he turns on his heel and leaves.

He wonders how long it’s been since the two of you talked. You were there, reaching out a hand to him, trying to get through to his heart. You made offer after offer, and he struck them down without hesitation. Even without a scrap of love of affection, you kept trying to help him become a better person.

“Why didn’t I let you help me?”

He asks himself this question again and again, looking down on you. He always looked down on you, for being weak or sentimental or distracting.

Now he’s doing it in a more literal sense, staring at your feverish form on the bed.

Your severe sickness had been the perfect excuse to squirm back into your life. He comes in with nearly a dozen grocery sacks held in his arms, a steely and determined look in his eyes. Before you have a chance to slam the door in his face (not that you strength to do so right now) he walks into the house, heading straight to the kitchen.

“What are you-“

“Hush. Not a word, Y/N.” He’s dressed in his own expensive and tailor-made version of casual, not that it makes him any less intimidating. He places the bags on your table, and walks directly towards you, his hand moving to cover your forehead. He grimaces.

“You’re burning up, Y/N. Get to bed. Now.”

“You need to-“

He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, marching you to your room, checking the rooms one by one as he walks with you. Once he finds it, he pushes you towards it and pulls back the covers. “Get in.”

You’re frozen stiff, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, your estranged father busting in with groceries and literally marching you in around your own home, room by room. That pause gives him the chance to push you onto the mattress, tucking the blanket around you. “Good,” he says, sounding satisfied. “I’ll make you something to eat. Don’t move.”

He pulls the top off of a can of microwaveable soup, dumping the contents into a plastic bowl. He had wanted to just buy you something gourmet and professionally made, but Fuyumi had talked him out of it, saying you’d be better off with something simple and easy to eat. That you would be better off with him.

So here he is, a giant man trying his best to not break a tiny spoon as he pushes it to your lips. Now that you’re actually lying down instead of trying to work in your weakened state, your body finally gives out, entirely sapped of the energy you’d need to get up or tell him off for coming in unannounced and uninvited. With nothing else to do and a body that won’t listen to your commands, you let him him feed you.

It’s a tiny step forward, the first of so many to come. And he won’t stop until you call him your father again.

——

Keigo Takami:

A young and innocent member of the League of Villains.

“I really appreciate you stopping by, Mr.

Hawks.”

You slide him a drink, sweet and fizzy and non-alcoholic. You’ve never actually served him anything with alcohol, not even by accident. He refuses to drink it, keeping himself sober and fully focused at all times.

You appreciate it, because it means one less grown man to babysit, one less puddle of vomit to mop, one less fight to break up.

And he appreciates that you don’t ask questions or try to convince him otherwise, because it means that he can do his job much easier.

“Did you make me something new, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I did! Club soda and cherry syrup and whipped cream!”

“Looks delicious, kid.” He takes a sip, and damn, it’s actually pretty good. “And tastes even better than it looks,” he praises, buttering you up in a way that aren’t used to. The other members, the real members of the League aren’t so kind. You’ll get an errant compliment or two, but mostly you gets nods, grunts of approval, and impatient demands for refills.

But Mr. Hawks is relaxed and charming and actually talks to you outside of ordering drinks. It’s easy to trust him.

“Got any news for me, kid?”

Maybe a little too easy, with the way you spill out all the gossip you’ve overheard, bits of information that you would’ve never considered critical or even important. And all the while, he grins and sips his drink, listening very, very close.

You’re betraying your own teammates, and you don’t even know it, he thinks to himself. And why? Because you’re just a good kid, a lonely kid? A sweet and polite kid, in spite of being surrounded by literal killers and remorseless criminals.

More than anything, he feels bad for you.

Especially when he catches you drinking.

You sniffle, a red handprint outlined on your cheek, and bruising from a rough hand encircling your wrist. You tip the shot glass back, trying to take a another sip.

But something soft blocks your lips, soaking up the alcohol before it can enter your mouth. You set the shot glass down, opening your red-rimmed eyes. A feather, hanging midair, separating your lips and the glass.

“You’re still a bit young for that kind of coping, kid. Give it a few more years, and then you can start.”

His voice is soft, and he takes your wrist to turn it over, looking at the outlines left behind by rough, grasping fingers.

“Who was it?”

A flash of something fierce and angry, protective and nurturing. His eyes sharpen and then that sharpness fades, gone in an instant. He switches to laid-back and unaffected in a moment.

“C’mon. Just one word, and I’ll make sure they don’t mess with you again. Can’t have my favorite bartender making my drinks with a bruised hand, after all.”

You give him a name, fighting back tears. You aren’t supposed to cry. You aren’t supposed to break. You need to be strong and useful or you’ll get thrown out, nowhere to go and no one who wants you.

No one who wanted you until you met Hawks, that is. He’s sure you’ll know that soon, when these villains are brought to justice and he takes you into his personal custody, under the guise of rehab.

He hooks an arm around your shoulders and when you lean into his side, starved for warmth and comfort, he slips a feather into your pocket. A sign that he’s there, that you aren’t alone.

You won’t be alone again.

——

Tsunagu Hakamada:

A shy, insecure UA student who performs well at the Sports Festival.

You aren’t the usual kind of student he’d take under his wing. You stumble and stutter and whimper and then you crumble and hide yourself away. You have no self-esteem, no confidence, no sense of personal worth.

But your fighting prowess is impossible to deny or ignore. You might not have any self-worth, but you’ve got enough skill to make up for it.

“Fifth place”, he starts, while combing through your hair, “Is very impressive, especially for the school in question. You went up against skilled and varied opponents, and beat out all but four. Be proud.”

He doesn’t see the need to use Fiber Master on you. One single command of “sit” had you on the stool, holding as still as you could while he fixed your unruly hair, swept and tangled by the wind. You are certainly a well-behaved student, listening closely to his words, blushing at his praise.

“I was scared,” you mumble, in a sudden show of honesty. “I thought I was gonna mess up in front of everyone. With all those cameras. And everyone watching.” He’s won you over quickly, his unshakably calm yet supportive and patient personality providing you with the comfort you need to open up to him.

“And you did not. That is admirable.”

You blush a little deeper. Clearly, you are receptive to praise and positive attention. Building you up as a properly confident student and hero-in-training becomes one of his priorities.

He finds himself enjoying your presence. Something as simple as children running up to you to ask you about the sports festival, asking you to show off your Quirk for them has you looking up to him for approval, for his consent. He gives you a nod, carefully regarding your actions. You do decently with people when someone is behind you with a supporting hand on your back, it seems.

Then it’s teenagers, some classmates, some friends, occasional newfound fans. Every now and then, an outright admirer. Usually, you hide behind him, eyes down, arms wrapped around yourself. He interferes personally on the last ones, politely but firmly rejecting them on your behalf, nudging you along to continue your patrolling. You mumble a thanks, staying close beside him.

For adults, it’s two drunkards who laugh and sneer and shout obscene things about what they’d do to a shy schoolgirl like you if they got the chance. One whips out his phone to take a picture of you, only to drop it in his drink when the cuff of his sleeve tightens around his wrist like a snare. Tsunagu ushers you to a bench, draping his jean jacket around your shoulders gently. “You need not worry. I will be right back.”

He’s a dreadfully powerful man, in terms of both influence and Quirk. In seconds, both men are bound tightly by their own clothes, and in a matter of minutes, police officers are stepping in to take them into custody for sexual harassment.

He clicks his tongue in distaste, watching them get carted off. “Some people simply have no moral fiber.”

The way you look at him right then reminds him of why he became a hero. Not only to save lives, but to instill peace and hope into the hearts of those around him.

And he starts to like being around you. You look to him, not only for safety but for guidance and even for comfort. He offers it to you, watching closely as you fall deeper into the web that he weaves, one where you are safe and secure and utterly oblivious to your own entrapment.

And the longer you stick around, stumbling after him like a newborn fawn, the tighter and thicker those bonds grow. You can’t ever leave him.

But why would you ever want to leave him?

[mintaikkcorpse]

Analyzing the Symbrock kiss bcuz I've lost all sense of shame

Thinkin about that scene in 2018 Venom where Venom saved Eddie in the Forest. Imma refer to Venom as she/it in this post because they're agender, I wanna show that more, and I think that they just take on the gender and pronouns of whatever gender their host is. But please note that appearance doesnt always equal gender, and im just reffering to this rn because i like agender Venomm. Anyways!

The way she snuck in using her tentacles to kill the guys one by one. Venom was literally so excited to save her dumbass human. Look at the way it tosses the guy like a ragdoll. Look at her stance. Look at the confidence. Look at the way she looks down at Eddie. Look at the way it licks its lips. The way she's grinning more than usual and says, "Hi, Eddie." Bro is LOVING this.

We all know Venom is actually a really sappy romantic. I KNOW bro was excited for this rescue romance and how happy she was that she got to be the "knight in shining armor."

AND IT WORKED.

Look at Eddie's face when he realized that Venom was coming to save him. Pure happiness. Pure excitement. Pure, "my boyfriend's back and you're gonna get in trouble." Pure, "lmao, yall are FUCKED"

NOT TO MENTION HIS OTHER REACTION

Sadly, I can't put the clip because of tumblers "one video per post" rule. But yall remeber his little, "woahhh," right? Pure awe? Also, the fact that he was clearly into it. He saw Venom eat a guy's head and immediately after is just like "😮👉👈."He was literally just-

And of course, the kiss that made dudebros do mental backflips to explain away.

Venom's still super excited. Look at how happy it is to pick Eddie up! Look at its tongue waving in the air! Also, another thing to note is that this is the first time Venom closes its eyes. In the first two movies, Venom never blinks or closes its eyes at all. But, the first time she closed her eyes was to express emotion when kissing Eddie.

This is as much as I'm going to in the gif show bcuz as much as I love the scene, I also kind of found it gross (I kept imagining the spit everywhere and it looked like Eddie was eating Anne when we saw her and the liquidy noises grossed me out) but still. Look at Venom's face.

I actually think this is the first and only time as of now that we saw Venom look so peaceful. Eddie is Venom's home, and it feels safe with him. It could've bonded with him any other way, but she chose to bond with Eddie by shoving her tongue down his throat because she wanted to. And also, probably to complete the, "we make out under the Moonlight after I rescue you," thing because again, Venom is a giant romantic sap.

Also, she literally wrapped her tentacles around him his neck and shoulders. While you could argue that it was just symbiosis through skin contact, like we've seen before in the movie, I still find it very sweet.

Oh, yeah, Eddie's reaction. Eddie had absolutely no idea that Anne was the host. Even when she appeared, his eyes were closed so he couldn't tell. All he knew was that his not alien bf that he thought was killing him came to his rescue, picked him up, and started French kissing him. And he just went, "yeah okay." Didn't even try to fight back. Didn't pull away from the kiss, in fact, even leaning into it, all while moaning.

Another thing: while the host can communicate with the symbiote, the Symbiote cannot conteol their own body, so all of this was Venom. Anne even admits later in the movie that the kiss was Venom's idea. And in a deleted scene, Anne says that the kiss was "mostly her," but Venom pipes up and yells, "Well actually it was mostly me!" While cut content shouldn't be considered canon, I find it funny that Venom wanted Eddie to know that the kiss was his idea. Yes, his ass is weirdly flirting with Eddie, lol. (He/him cuz at that point, his host was Eddie).

[dark-frosted-heart]

Beauty and the Beast’s Last Theater - Azel Radwan (part 4/4)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

This was a story from long, long ago.

A group had been traveling from country to country in search of their homeland. 

They had traveled through a frigid snow-covered country, a country rich in ore, a country surrounded by the beautiful sea, a country lush with greenery, before arriving at a barren desert devoid of life.

There was no water, no vegetation, no people.

Everything had dried up and withered away, and death welcomed life.

The group had already accepted the destruction of the homeland they had set out for.

Everyone was prepared for death.

However, a bright moon lighting up the desert did not forsake the group.

As if taking pity on the on the lives about to be engulfed by the sandstorm, the moon illuminated a path—

That led to the source of all life.

Where clear water overflowed, vegetation thrived, and a giant moon shed light.

As the people gave their thanks to the moon, one woman gave birth to a new life.

Born with the silver of the moonlight and the glitter of the stars, the baby appeared human, and yet was different at the same time.

The baby was like a piece that had fallen from the moon, and with eyes that could “see one’s destiny”, led their ruined homeland toward the path of recovery.

--

Azel (polite): ‘The moon which pities human life has bestowed upon you its divine blessing’ ‘From this point on, my every words will be a prophecy, a miracle, or a hope’ ‘Should you all bloom promising life into this wasteland, I will protect its glory forever’

‘So that your country will not be destroyed for a second time’

Prince Azel stood on stage surrounded by lush greenery and clear water, and began singing with a clear, powerful voice.

He sang in an unfamiliar language, and I didn’t understand the meaning.

However, the song shifted the mood enough to bring goosebumps.

The giant moon above cloaked Prince Azel in light, shrouding him in a mysterious aura. One could mistake this stage for entertainment as a place for sacred rituals.

(...He’s completely different from the person who complained about singing)

Like the moon that was forever out of reach no matter how far you stretched your hand out, Prince Azel had the illusion of being far away, despite being in the same place.

I don’t think I was the only one that felt this way as the audience and fellow dancers all stared at Prince Azel in a daze.

(At times like this, I can’t help but feel that)

(...Prince Azel truly is a god)

Female dancer: …Emma. It’s about time for us to go on.

I was brought back to reality by a dancer who had come back to her senses.

I was strangely calm.

It was like Prince Azel’s singing had sapped all tension from my body.

(Time to go. To the special seat Prince Azel prepared)

Having been trained by the living god, the dances performed to the music and songs went well.

However, what stuck with me more than the sense of accomplishment and nervousness was Prince Azel’s fond smile that I saw from my special seat. I couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or not.

--

After the performance came to a close and the tens of thousands of people in the audience erupted in applause, all performers moved to the mansion that acted as a green room. 

Azel (polite): Hm?

The first to run up to Prince Azel in the lingering fever and excitement was the boy from the other day.

Instead of speaking, he held out a sheet of paper.

Azel (polite): Ah, is this a gift for me? Thank you for this every year. You are very skilled.

(It looks like a drawing, but I can’t see it from here…)

Though the gift did not seem to hold any sort of monetary value, Prince Azel politely accepted it.

The boy was beaming, happy to have received praise from the living god.

(I thought of Prince Azel as a greedy, malicious god, but he has this side to him. He’s difficult to understand)

Just as my mental image of Prince Azel was about to flicker like a mirage, I heard the sound of sobbing and turned to the source.

As if feeling my gaze, the woman crying into her hands by the wall suddenly looked up.

(Is it a good time to talk to her?)

--

Azel: *sigh*...I’m beat. The way you’re treating a weary god…

Emma: But we just happen to be walking together.

Azel: Stop following me, go back to the castle, don’t underestimate the desert at night.

After it was all over, I walked with Prince Azel back to his temple.

The weary god took long strides, but I somehow managed to keep up despite my struggle.

(He obviously wants to get away from me)

(...I don’t want to feel like I’m harassing him, but..)

Emma: There’s something that’s been on my mind. …About your “reward”.

Prince Azel suddenly stopped and looked at me with a frightening scowl.

Azel: If you heard anything unnecessary, then forget about it immediately.

Emma: I don’t think it’s unnecessary, so I won’t forget about it.

Azel: …

(He seems more embarrassed…than angry)

Emma: Originally, I thought your reward was going to be money like usual. But the performance was free.

Azel: ……Tch.

Emma: I heard something about the boy who’s attached to you from his mother.

~~ Flashback ~~

Woman: —My son had lost his hearing in an accident. With our current medical technology, nothing could be done and my son fell into depression from the mental shock… While at a loss of what to do one day, I learned about a legend. That the living god from hundreds of years ago performed miracles with his singing. During that time, a rare disease spread through Tanzanite. The worried god sang on stage… Not only did he cure the disease, but also restored vision to those who lost their sight and sensations to those who lost their sense of touch. …I thought this was the only way. And so a few years ago, while hanging on to this sliver of hope, I visited the living god’s temple.

~~ End flashback ~~

Emma: You didn’t brush this woman’s wish aside. ‘Even God has difficulty performing miracles. Would that be alright with you?’—And you agreed to it without asking for compensation.

Azel: …

Emma: The first time her son heard you sing, his eyes were fixed on the performance, even though he was deaf. He had been depressed since the accident, but a smile finally returned to his face.

Azel: …

Emma: Now, he looks forward to your singing so much that he helps out with the performance every year… Despite his ears not being healed, his mother was still happy to call this a miracle.

Azel: So what? Are you trying to say that I’m a kind and merciful god? Don’t be stupid. Maybe the boy will feel like he owes me when he grows up and becomes another one of my targets? There’s no reason to look at me warmly so stop with that annoying face you’re making.

He spoke quickly and then jabbed my cheek with a finger.

(This reaction…it’s similar to when I said he was “caring”)

(He doesn’t deny it when I call him a malicious god, but denies it when I call him a good person…)

I wanted to know more, so I endured the jabbing.

Emma: There’s a difference between “prospects” and “rewards” isn’t there? You clearly stated that there would be a reward from this performance. And that reward was—

As I spoke, I looked at the sheet of paper in Prince Azel’s hand.

It was a drawing of Prince Azel looking majestic as he sang on stage, with the dancers added brightly decorating the surroundings.

It was obvious the drawing was done by a child, but Prince Azel did not let it go.

Azel: …It might be worth a lot of money one day, you know?

(I knew he’d say that)

Azel: Hey, wipe that grin off your face.

Emma: I’m not grinning, I’m happy. I’ve learned that you’re not just a malicious god.

(Perhaps he’s not inherently malicious)

(He practiced with me for whatever reason, even if he planned to bill me—)

Emma: …That hurts!

He jabbed his finger further into my cheek and then turned away with a grumpy expression when I protested.

Azel: If that’s all, I’m leaving. A↘ah↗, never wasted so much time in my life.

Emma: I thought it was enlightening. Thank you.

Azel: …Was that sarcasm?

In the end, Prince Azel pinched my cheek and walked away.

(Ah…)

Emma: Prince Azel!

Azel: Can’t hear you, don’t care, bye.

(But there’s something I want to tell you!)

Emma: Your singing was very beautiful!

My shout resounded throughout the desert and Prince Azel stopped for a moment—

Azel: —......You too.

Emma: …? What did you just—

Azel: ……( ⸝⸝•̀ - •́⸝⸝)

He walked away at an incredibly brisk pace.

(I didn’t get what he just said, but…)

As I stood under the sublime full moon, I couldn’t help but laugh.

(His ears were flushed red)