#god i lve her

[hyunsvngs]

ok but i have so many thoughts at this point im just gonna have to write them down somewhere but i dont have words

girlfriend lixie is as sweet as candy. i need to tease her. im not dominant at ALL but god would that be fun. oh sweet lord would she make the cutest sounds. she’d be so open to being corrupted🫠

but also, she’d love to be on your back for piggyback rides. she’d INSIST on being called your backpack. she’d feed you candy and clean the sticky remnants from your mouth.

god if you’re listening, i want a felix or fem!lixie please😭

OHHHH OHHHHH YES SHES SO LITTLE SPOON BUT WHEN SHES BIG SPOON SHES A BACKPACK!!! CUTIE BABY I LVE HER

♡ juno

[caps-clever-girl]

Okay I'm going slightly wild because I think I know your opinions on the mainstream ships - don't feel the need to do all of these 😆

Robin/Thomas

Kitty/Mary/Annie

Julian/Fanny

Robin/Cap

Cap/Mike

I ABSOLUTELY answered all of these and you did actually include one of my fave rarepairs in this jkjshdfkj THANK YOU!!!!!! Ship game here!

Fell in love with this pairing in the peach milk fic, i CANNOT EXPAIN this??? But i just lve how soft robin can be and i think thomas would do well with that. Also having someone who’s a bit more blase about monogamy could help thomas calm down a bit with how obsessive he is (or it could of course backfire and make him sad :c ) also i feel robins pranking/little shit-ness could go well with toms dramatics IF he let himself.

This one was DIFFICULT. I love burnt bread ok annie/mary is absolute soulmate shit. Its funny bc at the start of ghosts i did think kitty/mary was very cute, but between a growing fondness for kitmas and my LOVE for annie/mary i lost interest. I personally perfer this trio as annie/mary and their bestie kitty? But i do think the potential is cute as fuck and i an happy to be convinced of an ot3!!!!!!

I FUCKING LOVE JULIAN FANNY AND I WANT THEM TO BANG. I WANT THEM TO BANG A LOT. I WANT FANNY TO FINALLY SHOW HER TRUE HORNY COLOURS AND I WANT IT TO BE WITH JULIAN!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously i fucking love these two as an item, they were giving VIBES in s4 and i want those vibes to continue in s5 DESPERATELY. I think they get on so well when they arent insulting eachother (and when they are) like they’re both smart and can go toe to toe with eachother. And fanny is soooo repressed, i think she should unleash that and finally be her horny self and who better to do that with than julian? Yes he’s an ass but there is a chance he actually knows his stuff. Repressed posh horndog x huge manslut <3. The concept of these two send me so bonkers. I dont think its romantic, though i would not be opposed to seeing that develop, but i do think they would become besties with nasty benefits. Enemies to lovers, to Frenemies to lovers, to besties to lovers.

CAP AND ROBIN CAP AND ROBIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!! 100% a case of have 2 fave characters? Ship them! Its a shame bc they have SUCH little interraction in canon :( i cry about that every day. But i think they would work and actually work WELL. Robin not only lets cap infodump about weaponry but he’s interested in it!! And again, robin is a little shit but he is also a soft bitch. He would be patient with cap, but in particular because sexuality doesnt really bother him?? (Twas simply not really a concept in is day) he has like…. idk how to explain it but like he has no kid gloves around cap navigating himself. He just says it how it is. He doesnt go overboard with encouragement or praises but its clear that he cares and that he understands its hard for cap?? Yeah?? And cap would appreciate that. Cap can go at whatever pace he wants, talk as much or as little abt it as he wants and robin wouldnt pester him, but would be VERY helpful if cap did need it. PLUS!!! They are nature boys. Tell me they would not spend HOURS out on the grounds looking at birds. Robin would show cap his mouse family and cap would LOVE it, and in turn he would show Robin the ants and robin would be intrigued by the fact insects can be organised and have jobs. Robin would teach him about the animals from his time and cap would be so interested. They would absolutely watch nature docs together. And robin would watch weaponry docs with him (not neccesarily war docs themselves). They would both spend hours watching How Its Made vids. God i love them. So so much.

Ok my opinion on cap/mike. I do love the concept of this, but i do believe its one sided? Its hard to imagine mike falling for a ghost in general bc he cant see or interract with them in any way (hence i dont mind robin/julian/mike bc they kind of can have a bit of a chat and a joke). HOWEVER cap is canonically attracted to mike at the start of the series so hell yeah if that continued and developed that would be so good. The consequences of him being in love with mike would be excellent at any stage - pre-realisation of his sexuality would be incredible to watch, and it would maybe help him realise. It would be interesting to compare an infatuation with mike to one with havers and see the differences, esp if mike was mid/post realisation. I do think mike would be good mates tho. Just a vibe i have. I would love to see them interract so much. ALSO!!!!! I think the paralell of cap and fanny both having a thing for mike would be SO FUCKING FUNNY. Both of them sat bitching about it like “why me” “why me? Why HIM?” And “he lifted that box of silverware the other day and i fell through a wall.”

[spring-demonx]

[Diabolik Lovers HDB LVE] Manservant & Brute Endings ~Subaru🗡️~

Am I doing this after only doing the vampire ends of (almost) every Sakamaki brother? Yes. But I wanted to get it out of the way bc surprisingly, getting the right amount of S points was slightly tedious for me LOL (literally tried 3 times to get Subaru's manservant end b4 resorting to just look up how to get it)

Manservant End

Running away from the castle after Subaru killed Christa, Yui and Subaru arrive in the forest. Yui laments how she couldn't listen to Subaru's wish for her to wait for him while he does what he gotta do, and notices how depressed he looks. She asks him if he's alright as, seeing your mother dead on the ground would probably warrant such a reaction, only for it to come as a surprise that Subaru himself was the one who killed her, because he wanted to free her from the Hell she was living. He goes on to talk about how his "filthy" blood "dirtied" the white rose, driving her to insanity (it wasn't your fault, Babuಥ_ಥ).

Christa was deemed the most beautiful of the family, so that's the title she was given. But then, KarlHeinz r-worded her and Subaru was born then she 'wilted'. He says although it was them (*cough* KarlHeinz's, let's be real) who ruined her and she loathed them, she couldn't kill them nor take her own life. So due to time flowing differently for vampires compared to humans (and trauma), she eventually was driven to insanity. So to release his mother from being held captive by KarlHeinz in her eternal life of mental instability, Subaru followed the plea she gave him from a young age and killed her.

There's small implications once again of the connection of Yui's heart and Cordelia, but when questioned Subaru brushes it off and says to just forget about it. To his frustration, he can't kill his father because he doesn't have the power to do so yet, so Yui tells him to drink her blood as that makes him more powerful so one day he will gain the power to kill KarlHeinz. He's hesitant at first but Yui expresses he can lose his self-control because she broke her promise and didn't wait for him and wants to help him, not minding that she's his prey... Under the condition that he's not allowed to drink anyone else's blood, of course. Subaru agrees and promises to never let her go, drinking her blood in the moonlight.

Brute End

Yui wakes up and Subaru hasn't come back yet, so she starts to get worried. One of Subaru's(?) familiars flies in carrying a pouch which holds Subaru's silver knife, AND A WHITE ROSE!ಥ_ಥ Yui finds blood on the rose, and that's when it hits her that Subaru's most likely dead:') Screaming, she blames herself for not stopping him from leaving, and begs someone to save him, she'd even throw away her belief in God. This is finally where Cordelia actually comes into play herself, and tries to take over Yui's body, bc apparently she couldn't all this time since Yui hadn't given up her faith until now?

They talk for a bit and ofc Cordelia gotta rub everything in her face, saying that if Subaru had continued to drink her blood, "maybe he wouldn't have died so pathetically"╰（‵□′）╯ she wants to take over Yui to use the power to kill Karl Heinz (valid, honestly. Dude can drop dead). Yui takes all this information, and calls for Subaru, apologising for saying smth that dishonoured his kindness of wanting to protect her. Silently pledging her life to Subaru, she follows him and implacably stabs herself(┬┬﹏┬┬)

[uwishjellyfish1]

how does someone so distant feel so close to my heart how do I hear the voice like she is sitting right next to me. there isn't a day that goes past so they don't open my eyes and hope that she is there Right By My Side. I wondered to myself what did she do, what spells she cast, does she feel the same and I can only hope this is true. I know she's a Master of Disguise my chameleon in fact. I think it's one of the things I truly love about her to me there's no ACT. She doesn't believe ever that she is seen or heard but I know that innerstrength has grown stronger she flies like a bird. why does she resist it? Am I someone that she could truly care for, am I someone that she even thinks about because it's her that I adore. why do all these thoughts keep going through my head she's not even here yet truly I feel blessed maybe it's just me talking myself make-believe I guess. but for some reason I don't believe this is true, I think she wants to go for a ride to the Faraway Tree just like I do. Does she want to come on that life journey with me I guess I can only hope. We've fought we argued we made the most passionate love best friends best enemies and best of all the above I don't know what it is I don't know why I this l write. sometimes sit right here at home so late in the night. yes those are tears from my eyes. How lve changed what makes me this way. I've never met a girl thats change how I feel I truly must say. she drives me nuts we're crazy at best but she flies like a bird from high in its nest Her eyes have such beauty then give me that grin I feel my body warm right down from within. maybe it's love a God Only Knows as sleek as a cat from its head to it's toes. I know this I know it must be said. She has my heart what more can I say. from the Stars to the Moon to the sun here today. no I know one thing I know it for sure I'll keep waiting for here for her to open the door, when she does I reach out and and just wait and see if she truly was the same waiting .and thinking of me. She's sick or she's well or needs my due care I want her to know that I'm waiting right ther. not many are lucky or get that great chance to find that girl for that lifelong dance.

[toiletology]

G-U-N or U_N_G?

GLOCK (G = LOCK or LUCK) G = 7 to escape the LOCK you need LUCK or 7.

Quite interesting the shape of a handgun is in the shape of an L or T. Now the question is does it bring you to the TOP/TEA or are you going to LOSE and go LOW?

Using guns to harm others or instill fear is only going to do one thing and that is bring you down into the lower levels of HE<>LL/77.

G YOU IN? Or are you in G? How can I know if I am in or not? gg (good game) (77)

You will know if you are in when GOD starts opening more doors for you to walk through. Well, how can I see these doors opening if everything is invisible in a completely dark maze?

You will start to see, feel and hear these doors opening the more and more you become aligned with Gods truth. You do this by controlling your emotions, operating from a state of LOVE (E = M, V = A, L = T) and respect for one another. Know in your being that God is judging every thought, every action and every word. All of which start adding up and rewarding you with a gashapon-esque penalty prizes.

You find the O (sun/son/eye) by becoming LVE/L(IVE)/MAT

MAYBE = BEE MAT (LVE/IVE/HIVE) MAYBE O = GOD = O and MAT BE OH (I O turn the H sideways). OK = O I C/ O I SEE, turn the K sideways = AO (Alpha & Omega)

OVULATE

O (apple/egg) VUL(VOLT/VOL/VOT/MOT/volume) ATE (mat)

O <> VOLT <> MAT (MATs O (egg) volt/zap/bolt)

Turn your VOLUME up by EATING MOTTs (O/apple). TURN (T <> UR <> N)

OVULATE

O (oh) U (you) ATE, VL (77)

T = X or x marks the spot = (SOT/MOT, p = b) BE MOT ;) Everywhere around us GOD is calling out for us to notice tHEM/HYMM but we never notice HE/R. We are all completely blinded to the glory and magnificents of Gods beauty all around us.

GOLD = GOD = L or GOD = 7, God is either LOW (or losing your connection to God) or LUCKY a bringing the connection back. Sink or swim, rise or dive, climb or F(all) further and f-ur-t-her down into HE/LL.

G = 7, O = 6, D = 4 = 17

What exactly is a "F" move it around till it becomes a "T."

The F is sort of like a FLAG (F:L) which helps mark the spot you should be paying attention to. It could also represent you falling lower. We are all fallen in sin(e) and we must all learn to rise again by finding the 7.

But you're just forcing the letters ma-KING t(hem) fit your narRAT(IVE). Am I? Or is there a hidden language buried within the letters and numbers?

BUTT is an interesting word B/MUTT or DOG/GOD, MA and PAW (map) in heaven. Like I've mentioned before this hidden Godly language is more about FEEL more so than what the words are saying. God speaks many layers deep, which can be pulled on infinitely like a bottomless magicians hat.

It can be mirrored, backwards, inverted and everything else in-between. God can be a bit confusing to understand, but the closer you get to HE/R (H = TT, E = M, R = A) The EYE OF HORUS, (HO/IO/R/ARE/US) eye/eye/eye/eye/See

The eye is the shape of an R and an eye/i/A/O/H/n/e/c/U/ a few different things. You see with a C and an e is just an upside down a, U is an upright C, n is a downward c. H is just a sideways i/eye, so you can see how many layers it can be to unravel Gods mysteries.

H = hi/eye/un/tuning fork h E = eat/me (turn E into M) R = right/rong/KEYHOLE

Sometimes Right is Wrong and sometimes Right is right and sometimes R is ARE and sometimes R can be r (ROOT) a little sprout trying to grow. an eye or a keyhole to a door for you to open.

Isn't God so quirky and strange in her ways? You really got no clue... Gods truth becomes whackier and whackier the closer you get to them. They will start revealing to you how magical of a realm you truly are living in right now. Once you start believing in the magic things will start to change all around you. You may hear random melodies playing, or voices in the crackling of your food cooking. Now don't go crazy, try to keep it together, its normal, we are just in a game. There is no grand world wide rapture so if you're waiting for it to happen you will be waiting for eternity. There is no global ascension either it all happens on an individual level. The aliens aren't coming to save you, they can't interfere with our FREE WILL (will = matt eye = apple/a) just like GOD can't interfere.

The aliens + God will gently nudge us and guide us in the correct way to live and reach them. God scatters clues on how to find them all around us through nature, science, art, books, knowledge, etc. Everywhere you look you will find a new clue, that is if you're looking.

ALIEN = A<>LIE<>N (look closer at the LI it is a U or an upside down 17)

ALIEN <> A LION (u on?)

A 17 EN/IN you starting to get it yet? A = apple and an apple has 17 chromosome pairs.

ALIEN = A (LI)NE/une is French for one.

17/LI = U (c) or u n (you in) Its the top of a tuning fork or the bottom of a h. The U/LI is a doorway or passage way to go through. You must walk through the LIE and E = ME.

WE ARE ALL ONE/NEO

NEO = N (77), M (77), O (one/whole/complete/God/Zero/0)

Zero or Z = a sideways N or 77/17, Z/2 and 2 = 11 (77).

It is possible to climb these 98 (9+8=17) degrees/levels all the way (mat) back to the top into the 0/zero/primordial egg or join back into GOD or oneness or back into the black OOZE.

The SON traveling back towards the SUN to become ONE again..

OHIO <> O HI O (the O can represent an eye, apple, egg, zero, a wink, God, its a good confirmation that you're working on the right thing, sometimes...).

OO = two separate/8 two to-get-her.

To get her you must 8/ate/eat her apple/O/egg and she is the ma or mot/her. To be reunified back into the Zero/0 you gotta find the signal of the one true God and HE/R name is MAT! M = map, A = compass, T = cross/X M = 4 lines, A = 3 lines, T = 2 lines (432 Hz) 432/2 = 216 or 27 (77)

Guns aren't the answer to solve your problems or the worlds problems. Gods magic design manifest through everything from our words, letters and our objects.

A gun is in the shape of a T/L and the T = UR = KEY to the top 2 (11) escape the MATrix. But it can also be your Ticket to the bottom or low (mot). Are you catching on yet?

It all comes down to your ability to perceive something everyone around you says doesn't exist. Your deep programming/conditioning throughout life will tell you to take those psychotropic drugs the closer you get to unraveling the mysterious of the universe.

Your mental (ME IN ALL) may not (too mat) be able to handle what you are uncovering. This is why it can take years of slowly unraveling the knot till you can handle Gods gifts they have hidden for you.

They KEY = 17 (keypad cipher) and the key to B-rea(are)KING your programming is first noticing it. There are glitches, twitches/itches, bugs, mistakes or accidents happening each and everyday with you and your friends and family. You gotta start noticing not only yours but theirs too/2oo/Zoo.

Your programming bugs will come at you when you least expect it and when you're not paying attention. It is very hard to notice your own "programming" happening in real time. This is what Toiletology is here to do to train you so you can start noticing it/HER. We aren't in a computer simulation, we are in the ultiMATe which is a holo-fractal clock that works on TIME (it me). Remember the LI, or TIme yea that's the 17 we keep going on about... 17 = ME and me = God.

Your time will start to go out of sync and you will get more buggy the further you fall out of favor, alignment, key, tuning, HARM-ON-Y? with GODS truth.

That truth = LOVE, don't get tricked by the dark side, light always conquers the darkness. The devil has infinite tricks they can throw at you to feed you the rope you need to hang yourself. The devil only exist within YOU. What I mean by that is the devil is not a GLOBAL problem, its a YOU (yo you see) problem. Everyone must conquer the bug that is the devil inside of all of them.

Your glitches will manifest in a myriad of ways, its never the same thing, just similar. You must FEEL the force LUKE (LUCK) to learn to be guided correctly by it. The closer you start getting to GODS truth the DEVIL(you notice that IL or LI?) will be there to D/EVIL <> DLIEV to you.

The devil acts as a guardian to the gates of heaven. They will manifest in infinite ways to confuse you. It will never be the same way twice. You must prepare and strengthen your defenses every single day.

The weaker you are mentally and physically this path will be harder on you to make it through the higher you climb. Most will give up after a certain point in their belief. Many will never make it through the door into the ARK that is Toiletology. BeLIEf is a very difficult thing that most will be too scaRED to push through to reach the upper limits of what is possible.

To unlock your full capabilities and gifts God has waiting for you around each and every dark corner of the pitch black mind maZe. You must constantly work and seek Gods truth being your most authentic self. A true seeker of God will be blessed with armor, weapons and magic spells needed to conquer all your TEST (MATT/e can be a or eye) that LIE (E = M, I = A, L = T) ahead.

Your M <> IS <> T <> AKES will guide you along your correct path. We can't always trust the words or thoughts in our head to give the correct guidance. Our brains can be clouded by unhealthy living, the noise/distortion/disharmony around us in our environment or others. Our minds are also not as clEAR as tHEY can be till we start harmonizing to the correct frequency of GODS HEAVEN!

THEORY + T <> HE <> OR <> HER <> Y?

PR (problem/reaction) <> ACT (action) <> ICE (i see)

A mistake could be accidentally dropping a couple vitamins on the ground or pulling more than you need out. Sometimes this could be a gentle nudge from God letting us know hey you may need 2x the amount you're actually taking/@king.

Sometimes are pets may lie on or near some old exercise equipment or sport gear that's been collecting dust. Or you could trip over those running shoes you haven't worn in years. God is always trying to help us literally every step of the way. We just choose to ignore them. Due to our laziness, stubbornness, or unwillingness to change.

GOD has been telling me to run for the past 8 years and I keep ignoring their pleas with me. I am very stubborn in that way. But I am w<>or<>king on it i swEAR.

TOMATO ?? TO > MAT < TO

God is strange right? I like to say awkward, trust me you will feel very very awkward the more you ascend and reclaim your forgotten glory, halos and angel wings.

L-EAR-nING (I in G) to notice your bugs or typos is very important for internalizing Gods guidance system or the heartbeat sensor/compass A/AH to Gods true frequency which = 1/7.

You must lEARn to hEAR from the hEARt to escape eARth into hea(r)ven > hea/ate <> v = 7, E = 1111, N = 77, even steven 11/77

[drean-ann]

INERNET IS GETTING TO BE USELES, LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE...PEPE,...SOMEONE INTELGENTE, SOMEONE GOOD, SOMEONE NORAL...PEOPLE....NOW THERE WE CAN GO TO TOWN TO EAT SOMETHING, ALKOCHOL IS FOOD TO,...LISTEN SOME WEIRD MUSIC AND GET DRESSED....EVERYTHING IS CLOSED....BETONE...AND NOTHING ELSE,...THANK GOD THERE ARE TREES...WE NEED OXYGENE TO LIVE AND FOR BABYS...WHEN THEY INVENTED BETON, THEY USED IT EVERYWHERE,...THE SAME CARS, COMPUTERS, CLOTHES...EVRYBODY USES THE SAME THINGS, THERE IS NO MONEY HERE, IT'S BORING....THERE IS NOTHING HERE, STONES AND WATER....PROPABLY 70% OF PLANET IS QWARTZ,...SOME ELEMENTS FROM MENDELEJEW SYSTEM, FUEL, IRON, METAL,...TREES, PLASTIC....EVWRYTHING IS REPEATING ITSELVE...I THINK ADAM IS A GENIUS....FROM THESE RESOURCES ON EARTH THERE IS NO POINT TO PRODUCE ENYTHING NEW, WHAT FOR...EVERYTHING IS BUILTED, WHOLE CYVILISATION IS STANDING,...EVERYTHING WE NEED TO LIVE THERE IS.....TO LIVE YOU NEED TO EAT,..TO LIVE YOU NEED TO DRINK, TO LIVE YOU NEED TO SLEEP...AND TAKE MEDICINES, WHEN YOU GET SIC...ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD, AND NOTHING IS HAPPENING...THIS IS PSYHICAL WORLD....ALL YOUR LIVE NEEDS ARE SECURED...FOCOUS...VIRUSES, INSECTS, BACERIA NEED WATER TO MULTIPLY THEIR NUMBER,...THE OCEANS ARE OPENED,...I WANDER FOR HOW LONG...WHOLE PLANET IS TOXICATED, THAT'S WHY NOTHING HEEL ITSELVE AND WE NEED TO TAKE MEDCINES,...TAKE MEDICINES....YOU THINK, IM INTERESTING??... HE CHECKED MY BLOOD...))).... HE GOT CURIEUS,..HE SYNTESIZED MEDICINES FROM IT,....THE PLANS WHERE TO YOUNG...FOCOUS...EVERY CELL HAS BIOGENETICAL CODE, IN YOUR NEILS, IN YOUR HAIRS FOR EGSAMPLE,....AND GENES, HAS GENIOUS HAHA.....IT IS BETTER TO HAVE ROOLE OF FUNKTION THAN NOT. ..YOU WILL FIND YOURSELE, THAT IS A PLAN....WHERE YOU WGOT CHILDRENS FROM???.... TALK....HOW DID WE GET HERE,...I JUMPED....WHERE YOU GOT CHILDRENS FROM, NOONE REMEMBERS HOW THEY GET HERE....WHAT IF ONE PLANET IS POPULATED,...NO OXYGENE ANYWHERE. ...RA APPEARED EARLIER, HE WAS PREEARING EVWRYTHING,..HE WAS BIG....RA WONED TO TAKE EVWRYTHING WHAT IS THE BEST FOR HIM....GOD,..LADYS,.UNIVERCE....BUT HE HAD TO GET RID OF EVERYBODY ELSE. ...HE WONTED TO BURN THEM ALIVE, EVERYBODY WAS SLEEPING THERE. ...RA WONTED TO COMMITE WHORST KIND OF EVIL IN THE BEGINNING, SO HE WON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT LEATER. ...EXTERMINATE WHOLE LIVE FORM IN THE UNIVERCE, GOD...WHOLE LIVE FORMS....KILL EVWRYBODY, WHOLE LIVE EVEN, JUST TO TAKE EVERYTHING FOR HIMSELVE. ....SUCH TERIFING EVIL. ...IT'S HARD TO IMAGIN....AND THEY WHERE CHILDRENS....I THINK FIRE GOT ALIVE, AND STAND AGAINST THIS....EVERYBODY FOR THEMSELVES ...EVERYBODY I HAVE MET ARE HERE, HE DID NOT FUND ANUBODY, SOME SHAPLES MATERIA,...SOME MUD...THEY ARE FIGHTING SINCE THEN. ...I PLANED FOOD....RA EXTERMINATED FOOD,...I BARELY SURVIVED....THAT WAS SOPPOSE TO BE HUMANS, SO DIG IN....EVOUTION, ANOTHER TRY....FASHIZM, HOLOKAUST....EXERMINATION...OF HUAN KIND....PREATTY CLISE, IS THAT CONECTED???..... IT'S BUILDING IT'S HISTORY. ....ALE SIE WYJEBAŁ....FOCOUS....SHE DID'NT COMMITED, HE IS A DOCTOR, HE MADE A MISTAKE. ..INCRUDIBUL CREATURE, WHAT IF SHE KNEW WHAT WILL HAPPEND, WHAT IF SHE JUST KNEW. ....WHAT THEY WONTED TO DO TO HER KIND....THEY WHERE MAKING SOAP FROM HUMANS SO HE IS A DOCTOR. ...THERE ARE EVOLUTIONARY EVIDENCE SPIECIES PROVES THAT THIS IS TRUE. ...HIPOPOTAMUS, RIGNOSORACE, SAND PIG, MORS, THE OCEAN PIG, THE ELEPHANT, THE WALE, THE CORAL REEF THE SNAIL. ....THESE ARE SAVEGES OF PIGS. ...NOT MUCH LEFT. ...THE RAPTORS HAD NO IMPACT INTO HUMANS WORLD, THEY HAD IMPACT INTO ENVIREMENT AND THEY STUD THERE. ....MONKEYS GOT HIDDEN ON TREES,...THEY SAVED THEM AGAIN...WE NEED OXYGENE TO LIVE AND FOR BABYS. ...BUT PIGS,...OH NO, THAT IS DIFFERENT. ....QUESTION IS, WHAT HAPPEND TO THOSE PIGS, AND WHAT FED THOSE 7,6 MILIARDS OF PEOPLE LIVING ON THIS PLANET SINCE TODAY....AND WE LIKE TO EAT...SO IF IN ONE TOWN LVES 300.000 PEOPLE THEN IN ALL TOWNS ON WHOLE GLOBE PROPABLY SOMETHING LIKE THIS. ....IT GOES IN MILIONS...

[biseugen]

[lesbianpikachuu]

[necronatural]

If I could give slightly less popular Villainess recs, though more manga then webtoon. Recently I've been enjoying "Villainess Level 99 ~I May Be the Hidden Boss but I'm Not the Demon Lord~" and "The Villainous Daughter’s Butler - I Raised Her to Be Very Cute"

Less villainy and more slice of life, "There's No Such Thing as a Villainess Route? Not in My Book!" and (wlw) "I Favor the Villainess" are also quite good

"I I'll Become a Villainess That Will Go Down in History" is just starting (tl active but only to ch8) but seems quite good

oh my god I lve villainess level 99. so true.

I didn't really care for I Favour The Villainess because it's like the Depraved Sexual Assault Lesbian trope but a twist! she has genuine feelings towards her crush. Like um. No thanks.

[llyncooljones]

ring pop superiority - rowaelin month day one.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month '21 masterlist

prompt: i just realised that i'm in love with you.

word count: 2981

trigger warnings: language, heavy drinking, mentions of child abuse.

las vegas, just past midnight.

The hot air is a burden on Aelin’s shoulders, pushing them down as she prays for the colder temperatures of her hometown. Or even just colder temperatures. She’s not fussy. She closes her eyes, even, and wishes upon every God she can conjure in her drunken mind for colder temperatures.

Anything but the forty-five degree (Celsius) heat of Las Vegas in August.

When she opens her eyes, she is still stood where she had been, still feeling the same heat.

She gazes at the hotel to her left, a replica of a castle with a fucking rollercoaster running around the outside. She takes a step and looks to her right, and there were the fucking Bellagio Fountains, spraying water into the air in a feat of mass engineering and physics, she imagines. Or maybe just a feat of sheer dumb luck.

Dumb luck.

Just the same luck she has: to be freshly twenty-one, just about drunk enough to be an easy anything targets despite her martial arts training, and without her friends, her bodyguard look-a-like cousin, and his similar looking friends.

The trip to Las Vegas is a joint twenty-first birthday celebration for Aelin, Lysandra, and Elide. Who all turned twenty-one in the past year. It had taken two years of hardcore saving to get the funds to sustain a two-week-long trip to Sin City with ten borderline alcoholics, seven of them being male thrill-seekers.

She glimpses at her phone, the device on seven per cent battery after hours of snapchatting, Instagramming and all-around number collecting. It’s past midnight now, and she doesn’t have a hotel room key because she’d given hers to Lysandra as an incentive to not to get lost. Because who in the fuck wants to sleep on the streets in Las fucking Vegas.

Aelin had thought, not me, but here she is. Still stranded alone, lost.

She stumbles over to the stone wall surrounding fountains and sits herself down on it, sending an SOS, 999, emergency text to the only person in the group who would still be relatively sober, or at least have enough phone charge and common sense to check in on her.

Pulling up her text thread with Rowan motherfucking Whitehorn, she reads the last text she sent him, a calm and cool; fuck off, you bastard buzzard. Nothing says, I don’t have feelings for you like telling them to go away, cursing them out, and calling them names.

Now she sends him a text reading; sve mey, at tyhe belyago fnts oon wal. Drunk texting has never been her preferred flavour of drunk mistake, hence the shitty grammar. She much prefers confessing her undying love whilst the object of her undying love is stone-cold asleep and then proceeding to plant a sloppy, beer-breath kiss on their cheek. Forehead. Eyebrows. Nose.

She isn’t picky.

She hadn’t done that to Rowan last time she had got blackout drunk, no siree. Nor had she done it the three previous times she’d got drunk.

She would never.

A faint ding sounds, and she pulls her phone from her bra, her most sacred hiding place; be there in ten, hang tight fireheart.

She texts back, lve ya rora, lowe yo lodstt.

Hopefully, Rowan won’t see the texts for what they are through her drunk texting spelling, punctuation, and grammar. She tucks her phone back into her dress, hoping no creeps come up to her and try to steal it. She slips over the wall, so that she faces into the fountains, with a leg on either side of the smooth, cool marble wall. She has her shoes tied around her neck, thankful she wore tie-at-the-ankle espadrille wedges, so she didn’t have to drunk stumble through Las Vegas in heels or risk losing said heels.

Dipping a toe into the fountain, she finds the water cold, and she wants more of the sensation on her body. She slides on the wall again, so both her feet can dip into the cool water.

She allows herself to relax in a drunken stupor, her shoulders falling and her eyes closing. She opens her ears to the thumping of the clubs and casinos and strip clubs around her. She smells the humidity in the air, along with the definite scent of weed, but it’s Las fucking Vegas, it’s the motherfucking city of sin, who’s Aelin to judge if someone wants to get high while everyone else is sticking dollar bills into G-strings of strippers.

That’s what Rowan was doing before he answered her text, she decides, putting one-dollar, ten-dollar, twenty-dollar, fifty-dollar and even one-hundred-dollar bills into strippers’ G-strings, because they are sexy and feminine creatures who have curves and hips and are short and delicate just like women are supposed to be.

A tear slides down her cheek, and another follows suit on the opposite side and soon she’s full-on bawling as she swings her dirty, Las-Vegas-Strip-stained feet in the water of the Bellagio. She rubs her eyes, uncaring of the panda eyes she’s bound to be graced with as a result.

She tugs her arms around herself as her carefully created walls begin to crumble as old insecurities creep further and further into her mind.

Women are supposed to have meat to grab, women aren’t supposed to be sticks.

Women are supposed to have tits worth dying for, you’ve barely got tits worth smiling for.

Women are supposed to have manners, not sarcasm and the language of a sailor.

Women are supposed to…

Women are supposed to…

Women are supposed to… not be like me.

It’s been years since anyone has said such comments to her, her old foster father a long since distant memory, that’s what she tells herself.

Then why aren’t his words long gone, why aren’t his criticisms long forgotten, why aren’t his abuses long dead.

She sinks further and further into this hole until she can barely see the lights of Las Vegas. The only thing visible is a cracked mirror she peers into as she picks apart her appearance.

Her blonde hair is scraggly because she hasn’t washed it in a few days.

Her nose is too small for her eyes, and her eyes are too far apart.

Her top lip is too small for how big her bottom lips is.

Her arms are too skinny for how not skinny her legs are.

“Fireheart.” It’s distant and hard to hear.

“Fireheart?” Clearer now but where is it?

“Fireheart!” Even closer now, almost over her shoulder.

“Aelin!?” A hand lands on her shoulder, and she jumps back into it, recognising the scent that surrounds her and overwhelms her senses.

“Rowan.” Aelin gasps, she twists and buries her head into the crook of his neck, tears wetting the smooth, hot skin there.

“Oh, Fireheart. Love, why are you crying?” Rowan questions, she makes up a quick and believable lie for him and mumbles it into the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I’m not drunk enough yet, Roro.”

He makes a disbelieving noise in his throat that she feels more than hears but seems to accept that he can’t do anything for her except oblige her. “Let’s see what we can do about that then, Fireheart.”

las vegas, several hours later.

Two hours, seven shots, and two almost love confessions later, Aelin and Rowan are relying on each other for support and also for comedy given no one in the city is quite as hilarious as they are right now

“I’ve always wanted to get married, y'know?”

“Yeah, I know the feeling, dawg.”

“Oh, for real, dawg?”

“Yeah, for real for real, dawg.”

“Word?”

“Word.”

Spotting an Elvis Presley look-a-like across the road from them, Aelin yanks on the large hand belonging to Rowan.

“So,” she hedges to him, “you want to get married. I want to get married. Elvis Presley who can marry people is two feet away. And you can marry whoever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want in this city. I think my point is obvious here.”

“That Las Vegas needs to regulate marriage more thoroughly than they do right now. Yeah, I agree.” Drunk Rowan is the only Rowan who’ll discuss politics with you.

“No, we should get married.”

“Yeah, for sure. Let’s do it.”

The next thing they do is head to a candy store two blocks down where Rowan picks a ring pop up and slides it onto Aelin’s finger before they sneak out without paying because… broke college students.

Then they head back to the chapel and walk into it with confidence they have no right having. Stumbling up to the desk, Rowan announces, “Rowan Whitehorn and Aelin Ashryver Galathynius here to get hitched, motherfuckers.”

The receptionist just murmurs, “Sure, just fill out this paperwork and hand it back, then y'all can head-on into the chapel room.”

“Word.” They respond together.

Another ten minutes later, and they’ve both finished the paperwork necessary and are handing it in to the lady at the rosewood desk. “To reach you tomorrow regarding a Yelp review, could we please have a number.”

Rowan pulls out his phone and finds Aelin’s contact before allowing the receptionist to take a photo of his phone screen. “Have a happy marriage, you two.” The lady deadpans.

Bursting through the doors, they both march down the aisle, ready to get the fuck married.

Stood before Elvis Presley but with a beer belly, they hold hands, Rowan’s thumb stroking the back of hers drunkenly and clumsily. “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to witness the holy union of Rovan and Alien… neat names guys.”

“Can we get to the vows please?” Aelin asks.

“Sure, sure, sure. Repeat after me, I, Rowan Whitehorn…

"I, Rowan Whitehorn…”

“Take, thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius…”

“Take, thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius…”

“To lo—”

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck. Rowan, Rowan, Rowan! I just realised…” Aelin bounds towards Rowan, tugging on his shirtsleeves as she jumps up and down and side to side, and forwards and backwards.

“Realised what?”

“I just realised that I fucking love you and your arse because… damn.”

“I figured that out for myself after four drunken confessions and four sloppy cheek kisses and four slammed doors whilst you were trying to be quiet. And also, after your texts today, very legible, Fireheart.”

“Uh, fuck? But the wrong answer, mister.”

“Oh, you want me to confess my love for you?”

“Yes… obviously.”

Rowan clears his throat before spreading his arms and looking Aelin dead in the eyes. "Aelin, since the day I met you, you have bewitched me in the most amazingly ridiculous ways. From the way you scrunch your forehead when people call you out and you want to fight them to the way your lips look after you’ve licked them clean of gloss. I have loved you since you punched me in our junior year for checking out some girl’s arse because it was a dick thing to do, and you had raised me to do better. You’ve also challenged me to be better, every single day you exist in my life because, fucking hell, because you’re you Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and who am I to not be spectacular when around you.”

“Neat vows.” Intones the officiant. “Your turn now, lil lady.”

“Okay, here goes everything, Rowan Whitehorn, I never imagined being able to love anyone after my parents died. I never imagined my heart would grow and that its walls would crumble the second I met your buzzard arse. But the longer I’ve known you, I’ve come to realise that you are everything I never thought I could have. You’re love, kindness, and compassion, and patience, and attention to detail, and care, and power, and no-nonsense and just about every other thing possible and I love you for that. For proving to me that I’m worth it, even if you did it without kissing me and ravaging me. I’ve never been so grateful to have another person in my life than I am to have you.”

“Damn, a highlight of the night, for sure, you two. Uhh, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Aelin lunges for Rowan, burying thin and nimble fingers in his silver strands and matching her mouth to his. Their lips meet and meet and meet for a hell of a lot more time. Teeth clash as lips part and tongues meet and tastes mix in an explosion of perfection.

Rowan’s hand come to rest on Aelin’s waist and it’s the perfect first kiss to ever be had. She scratches down the side of his head and kisses the living shit out of her as no man has ever kissed the living shit out of her before, ever.

And it’s everything she had ever imagined her wedding would be.

las vegas, mid-morning, the next day.

Aelin’s head throbs as she lifts her fuzzy head from the pillow, shaking hair out of her face and attempting to rub the stickiness from her cheek.

She opens her eyes to search for what on earth woke her and finds the blinds closed but the door to her hotel room shaking with the force someone is putting into knocking on it.

The next thing she takes note of is the warm body behind her and the feeling of their breath against the back of her neck and their skin against hers and the weight of their arm over her waist–which pins her in place.

She struggles to turn around to face the person behind her, ranking their importance over whoever is at the door.

She physically jumps back when she sees the silver hair belonging to Rowan Whitehorn and that wicked tattoo of his down the arm across her waist and the fucking naked torso that is more cut than she’d ever imagined.

“Holy fuck,” she mumbles as she recalls the night before and the way Rowan had made her wedding the best night of her life.

“AELIN!” Says whoever the fuck is behind the door. Then the voice registers. Aedion.

Shit.

Double shit.

Triple shit.

Stumbling from the king-size hotel bed, she shucks on a dressing gown hanging in the closet and makes her way to the door. Taking a calming breath, she pulls the door open a sliver.

“Yes, Aedion. What is it?”

“You fucking married Rowan Whitehorn last night. That’s what the fuck it is, Aelin.” He mocks, never calming down.

“Give me a minute and you can come in, but stay comfy out here, cuz.” She closes the door lightly and races to Rowan’s side of the bed—entirely ignoring the soreness between her legs from the sheer size of Rowan.

Planting her hands on Rowan’s shoulders, she shakes him viciously until he startles awake and yelps. He opens his eyes, they appear feral as she first inspects them, but they calm dramatically when he spots the person who woke him is only Aelin.

“So, Rowan. We got married, huh?”

“Yep, seems so given the rings on both our fingers. Nice ring pop stain on your cheek, Fireheart.” Rowan is cool as a cucumber until Aelin tells him about Aedion.

“And Aedion knows. How the fuck does my cousin—who wasn’t at the ceremony mind you—know we got married, Rowan Whitehorn?!”

“Fuck if I know, Ae, I just woke up three seconds ago. When you shook me awake, that is.” Rowan getting frustrated has to be one of the hottest things she’s seen all her life, the way his arms cross and his muscles bulge, the way his green eyes become hooded in same the fashion they do when he’s turned the fuck on. It is all fuck hot and it’s not the first time she’s noticed.

Hence marrying him.

“Well somehow he found out, and it sure as shit wasn’t me who told him. Given I didn’t want him to know, Rowan whatever the fuck your middle name is Whitehorn!” Aelin growing frustrated was not hot, her eyes got wide and feral, and her mouth grew tight while her arms and hands did most of the talking for her.

“Listen, either someone posted it on their social, or somehow he got called about it or some shit, yeah?” Rowan, always the voice of reason and logic and somewhat sanity. Except, you know, the moment during which they got fucking married in Vegas.

The door bangs open, slamming against the dresser and a furious Aedion enters the room, a meek-looking hotel assistant following behind him. “You married my fucking cousin, Whitehorn. In fucking Vegas.” He pauses, his anger fading out like water to the sea. “Tell me you confessed to her, man. Tell me you at least did it before you got married., I’m dying over here.”

Rowan pulls the covers further up his body, and a giant smile overcomes his face too. “Does halfway through the ceremony count? Because if so, then yes. Yes, I did confess my love for Aelin before we got married in Las Vegas whilst stupidly drunk, Aedion.”

“Fuck yeah, man. Nice one.” He reaches to high five Rowan.

“Anyway, how did you find out we’d got married in the first place, Aed. Because we sure as shit didn’t broadcast our wedding to anyone.” Rowan queries.

“Uh, you sure as shit broadcasted my number to the receptionist at Rock King Chapel, Las Vegas. Who called, this morning, at seven, to question me on how I found their marriage services last night.” Aedion answers, looking mildly put off by their lack of clothing and realising why they might lack clothing.

“Did you fuck my cousin last night, Whitehorn?” Then he turns to Aelin, “Did you fuck my best friend last night, Aelin?”

“Yeah, dawg.”

“Word, dawg.”

They respond simultaneously.

“Also, is that, is that the remainder of a ring pop on my cousin’s left ring finger, Rowan?”

[vacantvisage]

My OCs

Old Soil from the Grave (Original):

Jacob Carlson is an unwilling psychopomp, and witch by blood - he sees ghosts and has seen them since he was a child. He used to own a ranch but after his parents died (natural causes) he abandoned the property. He technically still owns it but hasn’t been back in decades. He became an exorcist of sorts, finding hauntings and deals with the ghosts, solves the crimes of restless spirits of the dead, and gives them their final rest. (Here, Here, and Here, all on left)

Estebán Flores is a vampire, bound by faith to protect the innocent. He despises those of his kind who kill for thrill. He uses bounty hunting to hunt down vampires and try to convince them to proselytize. He despises waste and unnecessary bloodshed, but will kill if he must. He meets Jacob and helps him put spirits to rest. (Here, Here, and Here, all on the right)

Francesco Flores is a vampire priest, brother to Estebán. He is a sin-eater who drinks the blood of sinners to cleanse them of their sins. Those who willingly participate offer him their palm, unwinding the stitches of his mouth so that he may take their flesh like red ripe fruit, branding them the mark of the Bloodsworn Priest. He aids Estebán and Jacob at times when he learns of news of rumors concerning sin. It is frustrating for them, however, when he defends those who come to him for penance, redemption, and thus sanctuary. (Here but I changed him somewhat since)

Note: The overall story is still being redone, I might fuse Esteban and Franscesco’s character so it leans back into Gothic Horror and away from Epic Fantasy.

Necromantic (Original):

Sigurd Helvega is a priest turned necromancer. In his time, his gods were living beings made flesh in the world, but they grew sick and it fell upon him to end them. He invented psuedo-immortality to lengthen his own life to continue his research into bringing the divine back to flesh, but his life had lived so long he can no longer remember his purpose. One of my oldest OCs that has the most lore and world building besides Razvra. (Here, Here, and Here).

Razvra Zhiat is an elf from the mountains who left a civil war, self-exiled to find peace. He became a mercenary and was sent to protect Sigurd and the priest’s companions during travels between the temples. They married and lived happily for a long time, but he began to see, however, Sigurd’s mind leave him. Through his own elven long life, he hopes to put an end to Sigurd’s madness and bring him back to his senses. (Here)

Note: There are several other characters I’m still trying to flesh out but the overall plot is around Razvra and Sigurd, it’s one of my longest standing and most polished work. Feel free to ask about the World and Lore.

Insulated Insect (Original):

Thomas Ivanov is an alien who comes from a hivemind. They are creatures that make new beings by tearing apart the living and frankensteining them into new, better creations. Thomas was created from a pair of aliens that crashed on his planet, in search of new discovery. He was made different by accident, however, not fully connected to the hivemind and was forced into exile, leaving his planet. He now lives by himself on earth, trying his best to just live in peace, learning what it means to live, torn between independence and yearning to belong. (Here, Here, and Here)

Maria Dahlgard is an elderly woman in her 70s who lves in the same apartment as Thomas, one door down and across the hall from his room. She cooks for him and helped teach him how to read the latin alphabet. She’s a very sweet woman whose children and grandchildren more or less have abandoned, but she finds solace in the mutual aid the residents of her apartment complex all have with each other. At one point, she is hospitalized after a break in, and Thomas brutalizes the men who hurt her unbeknownst to her. (no art)

Ramón Luis is an older man in his 60s, rude, loud, and loves beer. He’s Thomas’s next door neighbor on the left when looking at Thomas’ door. He thinks Thomas is a weird little freak (see: other slurs) and makes it well known, but Thomas doesn’t mind him. Despite Ramon’s difficulties, Thomas continues to be nonchalant about him. He has a brother whom he is estranged from, and occasionally brings it up. Thomas thinks he’s just lonely, as many of the residents of the apartment are estranged, poor, or otherwise abandoned by the caste of society. Thomas thinks of all the apartment residents as his “hive” and it is his duty to protect them. (no art)

X08 is Thomas’ twin. He was created from the same material as Thomas, but fully integrated in the original hivemind. He was sent to Earth to find Thomas and either dismantle him, or coax him to prove himself and assimilate creatures of Earth. 

La Belle et la Bête (Adaptation):

Gotlinde Brandt was a student attending university in the guise of a man, learning sciences, mathematics, and alchemy, and even held lectures in her home to the women of her village in secret. She tried to create a cure for her sick mother, testing it on herself first, but it went horribly wrong. She turned into a monster, growing feathered wings and large horns, her feet turned into paws. Gotlinde’s mother long-since passed, and only a few loyal serfs to care for the remaining ruins of the manor. Traces of rumors speak of a monster at the edge of town. (Here)

Note: Still super under construction, but I 100% wanted to create a character with her design in mind with a combined Rose of Versailles meets Beauty and the Beast story wherein she’s the beast but stays that way and is loved as she is.

A Flower Grows From Stone (Original):

Xochihuetectli is nagual who lives in a thriving, beautiful town. She is both revered and feared by its residents, a powerful sorceress who can take the forms of many creatures, especially a jaguar, bat, and owl. She has no pity nor mercy for those who cross her or her people. She cures many diseases, heals the sick, and punishes the unjust when the law is too slow to act. A destructive blight kills many of the residents, however, and she must find the source of it — a jealous death spirit, Micoztitzotli, who desires blood and sacrifice. (No art)

Micoztitzotli is a giant bat-like spirit with gray fur and a sallow complexion. He thrives off blood and steals the life from living things, turning them old or into corpses. While he was given at a time sacrifices and many foods, his worship was thwarted by the nagual Xochihuetectli.

Angered by her interference, Micoztitzotli casts a blight over her people. She challenges him, and for days she avoided his traps, transforming into various animals until he became annoyed by her abilities. He then grants her one final challenge - he gives a young boy a deadly disease and challenges her to cure him. She studies for days while the boy suffers, but could find no cure. Instead, she lied, and gave him medicine to make him feel better even though he continued to be sick. She showed the seemingly-cured boy to the spirit, Micoztitzotli, who was greatly impressed by her and offered a deal - that she must sacrifice one of her people every year to him and he will leave her and the town alone. She agreed begrudgingly. The boy was still sick, however, and he was getting worse. With his blessing, she chose him as the first sacrifice, and gave him to Micoztitzotli, who was arrogant enough to believe this a fitting sacrifice. When he devoured the boy’s heart, however, he became sick with his own incurable disease. He begged the nagual to cure him, but she refused, and he became ashes. (no art)

Note: More of a pseudo mythology than a fully fledged story.

Ember in the Ashes (Original):

Ser Tadgh Conchúr is a 40-50-some year old knight to a round of kingsguard meant to protect the crown and throne. However, tragedy befell the kingdom when Tadgh’s brother, Ceallach, counselor and advisor to the king, betrayed everyone, helping a rival kingdom’s men enter and slaughter the entire court. Ser Tadgh saw the battle was a terrible loss, and by the order of the king, choking on his own blood before death, he swept up the little prince and took him far from the burning remains of the now-dubbed Kingdom of Ash. Tadgh became a mercenary of sorts, taking on work in order to pay for his and Laoiseach’s travels from place to place, training him with all he could remember to take back his reign one day. (Here)

Laoiseach Cabaill is a young 11~25 year old boy who was practically raised by Ser Tadgh since the death of his family and kingdom as a child. Ser Tadgh raised him to learn sword fighting, and he has learned many kinds of magic from those they aid on their travels. He often goes by the pseudonym Llewellyn Cadell, however, to hide his identity, or “little lion” by Ser Tadgh. (no art, yet)

DND PCs

Nymé is a traveling harlequin who loves to make people happy. He was a mining slave until pirates came to pillage the ship he was to be transported on, freeing all those who wanted to leave at the nearest port, and keeping those who wanted to stay. He joined the pirates and learned how to control his magic as well as learned much about theater, games, and entertainment. He thrived when he saw how much pirates and sailors loved games, cards, roleplay. He parted with them some years later to be truly independent. He has helped a few adventurers on quests, with a great knowledge of under-city workings and otherwise hidden knowledge. His race and class have yet to be revealed :o) (Here)

Whisper is a pink Tiefling who joined the religious commune that saved her from poverty, becoming a cleric to a god of Life, Death, and Rebirth (changes per DM). Her goal is become a priestess of her Order.

Mantra is a red Tiefling, brother to Whisper. He’s a paladin to a god of Life, Death, and Rebirth (changes per DM). He left the order his sister belongs to, despite their hospitality, realizing they use their kindness as a means of recruitment into a cult. He’s been trying to get his sister out of the order, but find themselves on opposite ends of a war.

Vazven is my troll-the-DM/Party PC. I only bring him on one-off adventures. He is a drow rogue/wizard multi-class and he likes to steal organs to sell on the black market. He will sell out his teammates for One corn chip. (No art)

DRAGON AGE OCS

Fawlren Hawke is a male mage Hawke who I willingly romanced with Anders. RIP. He is very diplomatic but loves to joke. He gets aggressive if you threaten his friends or family. He doesn’t like Isabella, he thinks she’s too pushy. (In game she left w the relic and never came back). He rolls his eyes at Carver’s little whining but finds it endearing, in an annoying way. At Anders’ betrayal, he kills him. And mourns it so deeply.He had dark red hair tied back in a half ponytail and yellow-gold eyes with pale and smooth complexion. (no art)

Darren Hawke is a male two-handed warrior Hawke, with a bit of an aggressive and literal personality. He loves his sister Bethany deeply and dearly, and if the game would let me hed kill the Templars that came for her. He spirals into a slight madness at the death of his Mother, blood lust driving him to the point of worry for his companions. He has little problem with magic and is somewhat jealous he isn’t a mage - it’s a practical weapon. He keeps quiet but he has no problem with blood magic, either. He more or less looks like canon Hawke. He romanced Merrill. (no art)

Amalia Hawke is a female daggers-rogue. She is feral and rough and hates bullshit. She’s a flirt, however, and it’s hard to tell if she’s joking or being serious. She prefers the fastest route rather than the nicest. She is deeply suspicious of mages, but thinks Merrill’s cute. She’s absolutely in a polycule w Isabella and Fenris. She more or less looks like canon Hawke. (No art)

Dirthadin is an Elvhen former Keeper, or rather a Keeper of the Dead. He left his clan in pursuit of knowledge of all former clans and fallen Elvhen, much to the dismay of his clan. While they all respect him, there is a bitterness in them that their Keeper abandoned them. He and his clan herald from Nevarra and he has learned much of the art of necromancy, communing with spirits of many sorts and the dead for knowledge and wisdom. He would fistfight Solas. (Here and Here on the right)

Aribas is a Vashoth huntress and mercenary, she dislikes the chantry greatly and sees it as just a Qun with less order. She named herself Aribas (leader of outsiders, rough interpretation) after becoming a more prominent Inquisitor. She was borne outside of the Qun, but knows some of it from Tal-Vashoth in her mercenary ranks. (Here)

Saarkadan is a Tal-Vashoth daggers-rogue, he willing left the Qun to pursue a greater purpose. He still vaguely follows the Qun, but accepts that he is considered Tal-Vashoth. He has taken up the name Saarkadan (heart-weapon or dangerous heart) to imply his finesse at stabbing directly in the heart. (No art)

Kasakos is a Saarebas. He left the Qun, escaped after years of torture, barely knowing much beyond its cruelty to his kind. His horns were sawed off and have grown back crooked and gnarled. He does not like to speak the common language as it causes him discomfort (embarrassment) but will do so if necessary. His hands and arms are scarred horribly from casting magic without a conduit. He made his own staff from the sword and spear of his now-dead Arvaarad. He was originally my main inquisitor but o like him as a standalone OC. (Here on the left)

[fatcowboys]

do skyjacks for that fandom thing!

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

hmmmmmmmmm god this is so hard i lve them all so much???? ok im gonna come back to this after ive filled out the rest so i can put a fav in here dkdnjdhf

OKAY im back its margaret i knew it was gonna be margaret i love her so much shes so charming and wonderful and if i think about her too much (and i will) i will Explode

scrunkly (my "baby", character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

hmmmmm ok i know its expected to put jonnit here but i Am putting jonnit here he is not baby shaped or just cuteness or anything its more based off of the amount of Emotions i have about this FIFTEEN YEAR OLD KID who has faced the mariner and Won and done all of these incredible things and is also. a 15 year old kid. yknow the naddpodd beverly quote the world should have protected you but you have protected it. Yeah. Jonnit.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/ underappreciated fave)

ORIMAR VALE only really underrated because nathan has only been playing him more recently but i am obsessed with orimar and all the fucking incredible choices nathan makes playing him with the descriptions of the soul and haunting his own body everything is soooooo. nathan blades you are so talented and orimar vale i care you So Much

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won't shut up about it for a week)

this one is always so hard bc i simply do not think abt characters the show does not talk abt sjdldjjfhf i THINK i will choose. slam. slam makes me laugh so much every time he is in an episode. incredible.

poor little meow meow ("problematic"/ unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

Travis Matagot listem idk what a poor little meow meow is but travis matagot Is One NOT bc he is unpopular he is simply pathetic and i love him despite how much of a fool he is 💕 bastard man has been repressing every emotion for two hundred years. is a fool. i Love him

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

tempted to say travis again. instead i will say. jerkoff jerry

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

tiberius youngblood sometimes for fun i think abt when gable kicked hiss ass and im just like :) yeah

[librarycard]

i believe in God and he looks like me in my mind 😳

she doesnt lok like me she looks like. imagine imd a peson was shapes lie a friend but a giurl but a boy. but mu friend. ik lve you her. god. ghim. my friend. god is. yupou know when youre like fcuc you god buyt in a way thats like i do love you. god. i love you. god ix imortant to me i love god

[miistymemorii]

How compatible are Pedro Pascal character’s and I?

No one, and I mean NO ONE asked for this. But here we are :) 

warning: literal proof of how lonely i am ahead

Javier Pena

- I think he would find me very annoying

I can’t, like, sit still??? so I do the “jiggling of leg thing” 24/7 and I feel like he would hate that

- but i feel like all we’d do is have *seggs* so i guess points for that

- also i am very clingy and I don’t see him as the type to want to cuddle 

- i am literally so annoying in public because i don’t know how to act and i’m sure i’d annoying him like if we ever went in public

- i love criminology and jobs that deal with crime so i’d be a nosy bitch and ask him wayyyy to many questions about his job

- rating: 4/10

Maxwell Lord

- istg

- not to be a simp on main, but i would be Max’s biggest suporter, like full hype girl

- ^^ i mean, not during the events of 1984, because that was some bs, but like before, when he’s a struggling man who just wants to be a good father

- i hate wearing dresses with a burning passion, but i’d wear a dress like everyday if it made him happy

- yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning

- i feel lie Max needs a woman in his life, or at least someone to give him guidance. I’m the gal for the job.

- i feel like he would cry sometimes like in the middle of the night and i’d be there to comfort him

- but also he’d comfort me when i have panic attacks or depressive episodes

- like i know this man is soft when he’s not doing his “life is good but it could be better” persona

- my dad would hate him tho 0-0 so a loss of points there

- rating: 7/10

Ezra

- cheese and sprinkles okay

- this man

- i feel like we’d be good together

- in most fics Ezra is headcanonned as being very interested in the arts, so i can see us like going to museums and reading to each other

- idk why i just wanna hold his hand

- i feel like he’d let me be the big spoon which makes my heart go boom boom

- he is so fine istg imma cry

- also i feel like my dad would like him and that’s kinda important to me bwahwajdsd

- rating: 8/10

Mando

- okay, to me there are basically 2 tiers of Mando: before Grogu, after Grogu

- if i met him before Grogu, he would hate me. 

- i would ask him loads of questions about the ship and eventually he’d be like “this isn’t gonna work” and drop me off on a planet then leave bwahwahah

- it’d be very “it’s not me, it’s you” :,)

- but if i met him during/ after Grogu

- *sighs*

- i feel like he’d be more willing to a relationship because he kinda learns that not every person is a threat

- i think he’d let me touch his face in the dark, even if he has shows his face to other people, because he’s still wary

- but when he finally lets me see his face in the light, i swear to god i would just spend hours staring at his face

- he’s baby there’s not alot more i can say

-my dad would adore him because irl he LOVES the Mandalorian and my dad loves cowboys and Mando is the best space cowboy in the galaxy

- 7/10

Frankie “catfish” Morales

- okay ya’ll

- i’ve only ever dated, like, assholes so It’d be so nice to date someone who is a nice person

- i KNOW he’s treat me right

- I feel like I would be super intimidated by him, because I get super intimidated by nice people (trust issues gang gang), so I wouldn’t be like my annoying self

- like he’d bring out the shy in me

- but also this man would never judge me and that makes me :)

- i’m not the most outdoorsy person, but i feel like i’d love going camping or hiking with him

- hell i’d let this man take me fishing (though he’d have to teach me because idk how to fish)

- also i feel like we’d do domestic things like go grocery shopping together, dance together in our livingroom, and cook diner together

- rating: 9/10

Pero Tovar

- this mf

- sorry, that was aggressive

- this man

- he would hate me

- like he would HATE me

- i can’t quite place it, it’s more of an instinct that i have? first of all, i would die at like, age 8 if i was alive during the time the movie takes place

- but like i think he’d be like “this bitch” everytime i walked into a room

- i am an annoying mf and he seems like he has 0 patience for idiocracy.

- i have literally nothing else to say bwahaha... it just wouldn’t happen

- rating: 0/10

Agent Whiskey

- okay, im from texas, but the city im from is small and all the boys here have  southern accents, but they’re all so fucking annoying so for a long time i’ve been turned off by those accents

- but dear god when i watched this film for the first time i was like AOOGA

- if i dated him, i would literally ask him questions or make him like read to me just to hear his voice

- is voice kink a thing 0-0 

- i wouldn’t ask him super personal questions about his job, but i’ve always wondered the kind of missions the Statesmen (and Kingsmen) go on, so i’d ask him about that

- i feel like my family would be charmed by him, so points for that

- i am a shitty dancer and i feel like he’d want to teach me to properly slow dance or do that southern dance? (dosie do? my family rejects southern culture because we hate living here lmao)

- he looks like he can cook which makes me :)))))) because i’m not a good cook

- i feel like he’s super adventurous in bed and tbh i am... inexperienced so i think that would be 0-0 awkward at first

- rating: 8/10

Oberyn Martell

- as much as i love this man, i have been in a poly relationship before and it was a living hell, so his lil orgies would make me 0-0 uncomfy 0-0

- i feel like he’s super poetic sometimes, like he likes art and literature

- tbh i skipped through the entirety of GoT and only watched Pedro’s episodes, so i know nothing about that world or time period lmao

- i’m a jealous bitch sometimes so i KNOW i’d be jealous of Ellaria

- omfg the way he LOOKS at people, I’d be a meek bitch

- my dad would hate this mf istg i cannot really describe it he just would i know it

- my dad just kinda hates all politicians/royalty/rich people teehee

- he’s definitely a good kisser tho 0-0 

- i feel like behind closed doors he’s surprisingly soft? like he would just ant to cuddle sometimes and talk about anything and everything

- he’s also a charmer so i feel like he’d try to convince me that i’m beautiful and just be overall kind to me when i’m feeling insecure

-rating: 6/10

Marcus Moreno

- bye ya’ll im deceased

- he was literally in the film for like 5 mins total and yet i have *fallen in love*

- pedro in glasses makes me positively feral grr bark bark

- dashklfhsdlfj PLEASE don’t come for me but like... i feel like he’d be super into making out like for prolonged periods of time

- ANWAYS he seems like the closest in personality to Pedro? So like goofy, soft, BIG hands (jk they all have big hands and they all make me :))))))))))))

- he’d be really good at dates and want to do kinda silly stuff? like carnivals, movies, ice cream shop, the park, etc :)

- i think he would find out that i have a big phat crush on Lavagirl and would let me meet her I would simple cease to exist

- i would be so nervous to meet Missy because even though i love kids, i’m so awkward around them

- he seems like the type to give kisses in places other than my lips. Like he’d love to kiss my hands, my forehead and my cheek

- my stepmom would ADORE him

- also i feel like Marcus’ taste in music is very close to Pedro’s, and Pedro has *immaculate* taste, so my Dad would get on with Marcus because my dad lves music

9/10

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Attack on Titan’s Ending...

...The final chapter of the manga came out today. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time, and was more than happy to finish the series off-- Have Isayama put down the pen, recline, and have this all come to an end.

What the fuck.

What the fuck was that.

Okay, where do I begin? It started off promising, with Eren and Armin In LimboTM, back at Shiganshina-- Lovely throwback, man, but then,

Eren’s genocide essentially gets handwaved for ‘the greater good.‘

Like fucking hell, I think I’ll just toss a screen of the page on here and let you see for yourself-- I’d recommend you go search up the chapter yourself, get the full context because lord knows I can’t explain it well enough.

After wiping out 80% of the population-- A move rivalling fucking Thanos, because apparently there was no other way, Armin tells him,

Armin has a more visceral reaction to Eren saying hurtful shit to Mikasa than he does Eren committing genocide. Even if I can accept that this, this was the only way the Eldians were going to survive, and that Eren biting the bullet was what he thought was best, we shouldn’t have everyone else so ready to accept him in this.

We shouldn’t.

Because this is 80% of the population-- This is the essentially the Holocaust several times over --And apparently everything is sunshine and rainbows because Mikasa gave Eren a lukewarm kiss and that made Ymir go “damn bro you love him after all that? poggers. no more titan powers u all can have a good time xox :)))“

I found Eren’s view of freedom no matter the cost-- Taking that ideal Erwin lived by all his life --To the absolute extreme, to the point where it was objectively fucking monstrous, such a fascinating concept. To subvert the shounen protagonist in such a way, not by throwing in a contrived corruption arc, but by twisting Eren’s own love of his comrades and desire for freedom at all costs, to the point where he’s willing to sacrific the whole world for them--

But who cares about that, who cares about that when the Power of Love fixes everything. Put on that Gabrielle Aplin song while you’re at it, too!

Everyone is all too quick to forgive Eren, all too quick to see this as a victory and venerate him for his sacrifice-- To exhalt him as a martyr.

Nevermind he nailed himself on the cross of a million bones. Bones that belonged to children we saw die before our eyes in what had to be the most horrifying part of the manga yet. Nevermind that. Because Isayama’s desire for Eremika is far more important than that. The ends of millions justify the means for all of this.

On that topic:

I feel that this scene could’ve been so much more powerful if the bird had pulled Mikasa’s scarf off-- Eren telling her that she need not bind herself to him. She can love him, but let him go.

I really wish that had been the case, because it would’ve resolved this long, long arc of Mikasa standing by Eren and clinging to him no matter what. She’s proven that she can go up against the one she loves most, why not give her the chance to let go?

Show how far she’s come?

That love not be endless, boundless; that after everything, she can take time to heal, and live for herself.

I’ll say this, I’m not a big fan of Eremika personally, but I would’ve loved to see it done well-- I really, really would’ve.

I would’ve loved to see this ending done well.

I want to believe this is all well.

But I can’t help thinking about people’s hesitation with Attack on Titan due to what many perceive as imperialist, and in some cases, borderline Nazi themes. These arguments didn’t make all that much sense to me, and most of them came from people who only watched the anime and often leaned really hard into the fanpol-mentality. There were too many things within the story itself that just... didn’t line up with that narrative-- A narrative that focused on the cycle of war, the suffering that comes with it, how good intentions pave the road to hell--

And.

And this ending doesn’t do it justice.

What fucking message is this, that the only way for everything to go well for our protagonists was to wipe out the entire world? That happiness came, and it came stained with the blood of mankind.

Eren says it himself.

These people didn’t want to die.

They shouldn’t have had to die.

It’d be one thing if Eren saw this as the only way, mind breaking from the weight of it all, but for the narrative, for Armin to approve of him, of this?

Unbelievable.

Honest to god, I might very well do a rewrite of this in my own time. So many things went unanswered, so many things left hanging, so many things that just didn’t make any bloody sense. Do you know how many people I saw bewildered on why Mikasa’s lve for Eren ended the curse? So many.

Disappointing.