#i have so many brainworms of these two lately

[redbeantofu]

love love guilty

[apricior]

having nick x grant x terry thoughts. grerrick save me. grerrick. save me grerrick

[geodraws04]

Drowning in pain, drowning in pain

Curse in the brain

Take it, please take it away

But it seems you're far too late

So like most in this fandom these gay cookies have a DEATH GRIP on me.

And I’m sure like others, the STELLAR animatic by June aka ActuallyRea to the song “Aishite” fueled them further - myself included :)

So I of course HAD to do some redraws of a few frames! I was originally going to keep the page relatively sketchy but the brainworms got a hold of me and I made it more fleshed out.

I am gripping your cheeks to watch the animatic for yourself it is so good,,,, esp. for my ShadowVanilla enjoyers :>>

💛💛💛

Here are the frames I redrew specifically!

I honestly struggled with figuring out which frames I wanted to redraw because there were so many scenes that could work but the idea of PV and SM doing a puppeteered ballet performance stuck out to me, and since I wasn’t sure which one to do I decided to say fuck it and implement them all in, with the last on being completely colored and the first two being like. Silhouettes? Kinda sorta?

I like the idea of the furthest pose - the one on the upper right corner - is the starting point, then they slowly danced into the pose furthest to the left, and then danced/slid into the front and center pose. Somewhat similar to how they were shown in the original animatic!

💙💙💙

And here’s some other variations of the piece! One without the blue filter, one without the background, and the final one being the sketch I was originally gonna keep it at before going all out.

I never work on full art pieces anymore and usually stick to more shitpost-like drawings and sketches outside of character art, but this was so fun to work on :>

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[stardust-thief]

meet cute

an: this is not very spiderman-esque + it kinda sucks😭 but i have brainworms im thinking of so many ways the bau cld be part of this au

synopsis: your best friend, penelope garcia, gets you to meet spencer reid, who unbeknowest to you is seceretly spiderman, 1.7k words

cw: just fluffy meet cute, a little rossi slander im sorry, mentions of tobias hankel but its pre-lizard, bc tobias hankel is the lizard in this au, not proofread at all

masterlist

“Pen, are you sure this is a good idea?” Your best friend, Penelope Garcia, whom you loved with all your heart, was meddling again. She had taken notice of the fact that you are a workaholic and would prefer to spend your days researching for your newest article, than literally anything else. Deciding this was completely against the criteria to be friends with her, she has taken you to meet some of her friends. Namely, Spencer Reid. You didn’t know much about Spencer other than the fact that he was a great photographer and an even greater nerd. Said affectionately, you literally do nothing but work, how nerdier can you be.

“Are you kidding me? This is a perfect idea! Both you and Spencer are basically hermits, my thinking is that two hermits cancel out each other's hermit-ness and you’ll both bloom into beautiful social butterflies! Maybe I’ll finally get to see my best friends outside for once. Or maybe that’s too big an ask.” She grabbed your arm to make sure you couldn’t back out last minute, and all but dragged you into the little cafe you were supposed to meet this elusive Spencer at.

The cafe wasn't one you familiar with, preferring to stick with the one adjoined to the Daily Bugle building. This one had booths lining the walls, and a vast glass counter full of the most delicious pastries you’ve ever seen. The one at the Daily Bugle served only stale bagels, and made you sit in those hellish latticed garden chairs that do no good things for your comfort. 

You watch as Penelope’s hawk eyes scan the cafe, “ok so, he’s not here yet. I promise you he hates being late, just sometimes something will just come up and- he’ll show up! Go get a seat, I’ll order something for us.”

“Ok, I can do that.” You say as you turn to move towards an open booth seat. Penelope was a generally anxious person, this was something you've grown used to after knowing her for so long. But whatever that was back at the counter was a lot more anxious than strictly necessary. True, being late to a first meeting was not a good first impression. Also true that the later he is, the later you will be in getting back to the office, meaning another late night working to finish your article. But it's not the end of the world! Yet!

Penelope interrupted your doom-thinking by placing a tray full of various coffees and pastries on the table. “I got your favourite,” she says as she pushes the warm coffee towards you and sits on the opposite side of the booth, “I wasn’t sure which pastry to get so I got… many.”

“Many is a word I would use, yeah… It’s fine Pen, we can all just take some home. Have you heard anything from your friend?”

She gives her patented dramatic sigh, “Ugh, Boy Wonder says he’s on his way. Wait, forget I called him that. Spencer Reid is on his way, he says he apologises for his tardiness.”

A loud bang catches your attention as a tall man, who looks like he’s ran a marathon to get here, slams the door to the cafe open a little too hard, rattling the wall decor and capturing the attention of literally every person in the shop. You watch as his eyes sheepishly scan the room until they land on Penelope. He gives an equally sheepish wave and hurries to sit down next to Penelope.

“Spencer, what the hell was that?” Penelope mutters, and you watch as they devolve in an argument at the volume of mice. You sit there awkwardly, sipping at your coffee as you wait for them to remember you’re there.

“Ok, Spencer!” Penelope starts, “this is my friend, who has been waiting here very patiently, might I add.”

Spencer’s eyes turn to meet yours, his eyes are a warm and deep brown that reminds you of coffee. You notice the slight bloodshot twinge he has, and the dark, heavy bags that sit under them. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in at least 2 weeks, leaving strong stubble clinging to his lower face.

Out of habit, you raise your hand to shake his and introduce yourself, “Hi Spencer.” It takes a moment for him to realise you have your hand raised, and he rushes to meet it.

“Hi, I’m really so sorry for being late, that was so rude of me, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” you hear Penelope give a mocking laugh as if to say ‘you never apologise to me like this'. Ignoring her, you notice that his hands are calloused and rough, littered with small bruises and nicks that leave you questioning how they got there. Noticing this he's quick to retract his hand, “sorry, I work in a lab so I get all kinds of cuts from the machines. Um, what do you do?”

“I work as an investigative journalist for the Daily Bugle.” The Bugle has a bit of a reputation due to its owner, D. Rossi, who is known to be an avid anti-spiderman fanatic and is constantly making up theories to defraud and belittle him. But you’re too proud of your work to let something like that stop you from talking about it. At the mention of the newspaper, however, you watch as Spencer shoulders tense up and he shoots a sidelong glance at Penelope.

“The Daily Bugle! Yeah, I used to send in my photographs for them sometimes.” Spencer breathes out.

“Really? What articles were they published in, I might’ve seen them!”

“No um, Rossi kept rejecting them so I never got them published.”

Oh. Good job. “Yeah, he can be a bit tough sometimes. I’d love to have a look at your work, maybe I can try and get something published along with my articles?” You offered this as a nicety, but you’re also genuinely curious to see what kind of work he’s done.

“That would be really nice actually, I’d appreciate it. What are you working on now?”

“An article on the research Dr Hankel is doing at Oscorp, he’s taking lizard DNA and attempting to splice it with human DNA to modify our genes. He’s hoping it can help humans regenerate lost limbs the same way lizards can. It’s fascinating stuff, but I don’t think it could work.” Especially seeing as Dr Hankel seems to have about 12 screws loose, interviewing him was not one of your preferred research activities. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that. My boss at the lab says it could be amazing if it works. It just has to work first.” He chuckles and begins picking apart the pastry in front of him. “So, you don’t agree with Rossi’s whole anti-Spiderman tirade?”

You hum, “not really. I mean, I think Spiderman is doing a great thing by helping protect the people of this city, but I also think he has a lot to answer for in terms of damage to properties, and livelihoods. But I definitely don’t think he deserves the scrutiny he gets from Rossi. Without him, what would New York do?”

He visibly relaxes at that, maybe he’s just a Spiderman super fan, there are probably worse things a person could be. You all get wrapped up in conversation and fail to notice the hours passing by until a worker comes up to your table and lets you know it’s nearly closing time. 

“God, we’ve been here all day. I need to get back to work, finish my article before my deadline tomorrow.” You say, rushing to stand up and leave. Spencer rushes to stand up with you.

“You’re working overnight? Surely that can’t be safe.”

“It’ll be much less safe if I don’t hand this in to Rossi before my deadline.” You chuckle, “I’ll be fine, I’ve done the bulk of it, not much more to do now!”

“Let me walk you to your office, it’s getting dark out.” Out the corner of your eye, you see Penelope wiggle her shoulders and wink at you.

“No I can’t ask you to do that, it’s not too long of a walk.” It is such a long walk, you’re just lying. “I’ll get to the office before the moons even out, don’t worry about it. Penelope, thanks for organising this, I had a lot of fun.” She pushes out of the booth set and wraps you in a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came! It’s good to see you away from your desk for once. Don’t stay up too late, ok, go home and get some rest at an appropriate time. No later than 4am ok?” She holds you by your shoulders and looks deep into your eyes until you agree. “Good, take some of these pastries with you, you’ll need the sugar.”

“Thank you Penelope, I promise I won’t stay too late.” Pastries in hand, you turn to Spencer again. God his eyes were so deep. “It was really nice to meet you Spencer, maybe we can do this again sometime. As a group I mean, all three of us.” Real smooth! The idea of hanging out with Spencer again made you excited, but the last thing you want to do was come on to strong.

His eyes widen slightly and he rocks back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, I would love to do this again, all of us. It was lovely meeting you as well, please stay safe.”

You smile at him and turn to leave, beginning the long walk back to the offices of the Daily Bugle. The many steps in your way do nothing to stop the giddy feeling in you.

Unbeknownst to you, after Spencer walked Penelope home he slipped into a dark alley, pulled on his spider-suit, and started swinging himself across New York until he found you walking to your office. After following you from the rooftops, making sure you were safe, he noticed that you had in fact lied about how long it took you to get back to work. He made a note to ask more firmly if he could walk you back next time, especially when it was getting so late. Once you were back in the Daily Bugle, he waited and waited until you were finished with your work to escort you back home.

[mosoderbergh]

Dynamics between Solas and the Veilguard team

So this has been going around my head lately: What if Solas had been physically present in the lighthouse and had become more of a traditional companion along with the others? How would they have reacted to him? What could the relationships have been? Here's my take:

Emmrich - They would probably be the fastest to warm up to each other. Emmrich is curious, and he has enough life experience to let the past rest, even when it comes to Solas. Their relationship would be collegial, because Emmrich would treat Solas as he would a fellow scholar and Solas EATS THAT SHIT UP.

Harding - Oof. Complicated. She’s suspicious of him, he teeters between apologetic and defensive. He regrets how things ended with the Inquisition, but he can’t hold back the snide comments sometimes, and Harding does NOT appreciate it. She wasn’t his friend like Varric. Just how bad things would be between them kind of depends on if he still killed Varric in this scenario. It also depends on the outcome of her companion quest: If she decides to let go of her anger, they might find some common ground eventually.

Taash - This one is interesting. So to start off, they don’t really have any personal beef with Solas, but they find him weird. They also have a tendency to be slightly inappropriate, which Solas doesn’t appreciate much. Solas would ask them about their dual cultures, which Taash doesn’t really know how to deal with. So there’s a lot of confused irritation happening between these two. UNTIL Taash’s companion quest kicks off. Firstly, because Taash asking Solas about gender would probably lead to their first productive conversation. He created his own body. Taash has some feelings about that. Secondly, because Solas sees Taash’s relationship with their mother, that strained conditional love, and is unpleasantly reminded of Mythal. Which is confusing to him, because in his mind, Mythal was not an abuser. But he sees this dynamic and it is both obviously bad and achingly familiar to him. I’m not sure he reacts well to it. Maybe he even starts off chastising Taash for disrespecting their elders only to then see that, no, actually, something really is wrong about how they are being treated.

Bellara - Some initial guardedness on his part because she is dalish, but we all know how much he loves genuine curiousity. And Bellara is so curious, so clever, and so kind. The egg doesn’t stand a chance. She, in turn, would be cautious about him for a while even after he has already pretty much adopted her. She would soften his edges the same way a friendly Inquisitor/Cole did. And eventually, I think their relationship would be super cute. She’s excited to show him how their culture has progressed in ways he hasn’t become aware of yet. And he would humour her. But at the same time, the fact that he cares for her makes him more determined to follow through with his plan. He wants to give back what his failure took from her. I even think that, in this scenario, her getting kidnapped and blighted by Elgar’nan in the third act would be a personal blow to Solas. That's his daughter. And when she climbs Elgar’nan’s throne and tells him “you’re not my gods”… oh Solas is so proud. (This one gives me brainworms ngl)

Davrin - oh, they would NOT get along. Davrin’s open disinterest for elvhen history frustrates Solas, and Solas’ general high-brow bitchiness inspires Davrin to new heights of sarcasm every time they talk. Problem is: Assan fucking LOVES Solas. Solas does nothing to encourage this and is very annoyed, but Assan doesn’t care. That’s his big elf buddy. And he WILL attempt to sit on Solas’ lap many, many times.

Neve - The BANTER. Can you guys even imagine? These two would spar at every opportunity. Neve would rip him to shreds and he would let her, only for him to read her to filth the next time around. There is serious animosity there in the beginning, but Solas respects her drive to help people. And she begrudgingly warms up to him, mainly because of Bellara. Neve might not like the guy much, but he’s clearly protective of Bel. They have some common ground there. They would also absolutely play chess.

Lucanis - Superficially, they get along. They’re formal around each other. Lucanis isn’t really interested in a philosophical debate with the Dread Wolf. He has other problems. BUT Lucanis has spent his life surrounded by professional backstabbers. He knows them when he sees them, and Solas rings one too many alarm bells in his head. Solas senses that apprehension. They never really relax around each other. Lucanis politely declines his help with Spite because he doesn’t want him poking around in his head. Spite is super pissed about this. (“Wisdom. Made. A body. Could make. MY body! Better than yours! Talk. To. Wisdom!”) Solas has a soft spot for Spite because Spite, exclusively, still refers to him as Wisdom. So most of the companion banter would be between him and Spite.

[lottiesnotebook]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thank you for the tag @hyperions-light! Not sure who else has already been tagged, but I'll go for @miladydewintcr @teine-mallaichte @rookgallustroublesomehousehimbo @adainesjacket

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

29! Should probably be more, given the number of snippets I've posted on Tumblr that I think would make solid one shots, but I'm still trying to decide which ones are good enough to upload...

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

477,628 words which is... honestly way more than I expected, especially as it doesn't include all my Tumblr fic which is now at about 90,000 words...

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

life 2.0 (Wolf 359), what stays and what fades away (Grishaverse), something enchanting, something deadly (Wolf 359), something monstrous in your eyes (Penumbra Podcast), call it what you want (Wolf 359 AGAIN)

However many Dragon Age fics I have written lately, the stats still call me a Wolf 359 Girlie

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Dragon Age, occasionally the Grishaverse/Shadow and Bone, historically Wolf 359 (my beloved). Occasionally I will get brainworms about a different fandom but it takes a lot of brainrot for me to actually get stuff written down.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! I treasure comments on my fic to the point where I refresh my email inbox after posting a new chapter in search of Comment! I also try to leave comments on all the fics I read, because I know how much it means when I get them. <3

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either waiting for the world to end or all the shattering stars, which isn't exactly surprising - they're both pretty much the same theme (Angsty Mind Control) focussed on two different pairs of characters.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

If we're not counting pure fluff, probably merry solstice (please don't call), which is at its heart, a holiday romance despite the angst. Pretty much everyone gets to live happily ever after (and they all kiss).

8) Do you get hate on fics?

It hasn't happened so far, and if it did, I would probably cry and then block someone. Fortunately up to now my ship and fandom preferences haven't lined up with anyone's poor little meow meows, but I'm a little nervous for when that day comes...

9) Do you write smut?

I have Attempted Smut, in the Solsticeverse codas a spy in the house of your love. I will probably try again eventually, but it's almost as hard to write as a good fight scene, lol.

10) Do you write crossovers?

Unless you include Daemon AUs, which I love, not really? I tend to like settings where the characters absolutely belong there, so it's hard to come up with crossovers that grip me enough to write them.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not yet, as far as I know.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it would be an honour.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

All the time! It's how my beloved @adainesjacket and I got together. <3

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Cannot believe you would limit me to one, but I will try and take my picks from fandoms I actually write for!

Dragon Age - Morrigan/F!Warden

Grishaverse - David Kostyk/Genya Safin

Wolf 359 - Renee Minkowski/Isabel Lovelace

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ugh this feels like a jinx but maybe the sequel to What Stays and What Fades Away... I'm working on it, I swear, but then Dragon Age happened...

16) What are your writing strengths?

Based on my fic history? Angst and hurt/comfort, probably, along with childhood friendships.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

FIGHT SCENES (also sex scenes). Anything involving choreography and sentences that can't run on for an hour.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I love it! I'm bad at it, but I love it.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

So this is way back in the annals of history and will not be uncovered, but my first ever fics were for a series called The Sisters Grimm, when I was about 12.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Cannot believe you're asking me to pick my favourite child, but probably something enchanting, something deadly, the first thing I wrote with my wife, and a huge part of how we fell in love. <3

If I can cheekily add solo fics, it's the kick inside, obviously.

[storeecbrcod]

MWIII: Soap’s Nautilus Skin

Hear me out!

I’ve been told that Warzone is technically connected to the canon campaign, loosely, hence why everyone was really confused when Soap got his new Nautilus skin. He’s supposed to be dead, he shouldn’t be getting new legit-looking skins, at least not so soon after the campaign.

But, for the sake of my brainworm (that I know I share with others, shh), let’s assume Soap’s nautilus skin means he’s alive somehow. Let’s do some study (courtesy @ave661, doing god’s work for us ty):

Look at my pretty boy! Mask, gas tanks, and cool ass details, yeah? Just an awesome skin.

Let me put way too much detail and thought into this in the form of a ‘quick’ ficlet.

TW: canon-typical violence, medical settings, mentions of terrorism, mentions of torture/brainwashing. TLDR at the end :)

The 141 had been distracted as of late, chasing around a group of slippery but deadly terrorists that had made it their fucking mission to make the task force trip over them. Nobody was sure if they were intentional red herrings from Makarov, or just another rising force amongst disgruntled people that turned to violence to be heard. Either way, it was starting to really grate on everyone’s nerves, having to put the hunt for Makarov aside to deal with a new threat every other week, one too big and too elaborate for local defence departments to handle alone without the 141’s experience.

Because it was always the same elusive cunts fucking something up. Killing someone they shouldn’t have, intercepting deals and creating unrest amongst major crime rings around the world and sparking unrest through their deep, wide-spread roots. The team knew well how a small conflict could snowball into a wide-scale war, and it felt like they were preventing one every time there was a report of soldiers in black, glowing green tech with a hazy green tint to their eyes.

Price could see the way his team (3’s still a crowd, right?) was starting to grow restless with the near constant pull from their goal of finding Makarov, especially Ghost. He grew more distant by the day, getting more and more ruthless out field, reminding Price of his early days on the Task Force. Whether they liked it or not, Makarov had diminished forces right now, and he was not as much threat as—

“Fuck, Gaz, watch out!”

Another explosion went off, knocking Price and Gaz to the ground, their breath stolen as they tried to clamber back up to move out of range of fire. It felt like it was coming from everywhere, relentless, chaotic. The thudding of Price’s heart was the only thing that gave him rhythm, guidance on how to react and when and why. He pulled his sergeant to cover behind some stacked crates and dropping, continuing to heave through his strict chest.

This was the closest they’d gotten to the fuckers, never managing to see more than a glimpse of these skilled soldiers before. They gave them a run for their money, Price had admitted sourly many a time. They were legends on each base they travelled to now, infamous for how hard they were to catch, even for the equally infamous 141.

But now, they were close. It was eerie watching these people, almost robotic in their execution, unwavering, unafraid. They’d run into active fire if it meant they had a decent chance to advance and catch someone off guard. And somehow, they managed to get away, every damn time. They seemed to not register pain, either, if the way the one woman soldier continued to walk around despite her obviously broken leg was anything to go by.

They were like zombies, and it was deeply unsettling.

As far as Price could tell, there were two hostiles running around above them through the catwalks of the hangar they were currently pinned in. They were trying to pick shots, but they’d shoot their direction randomly as well, making it that much harder to predict when it was safe to poke their heads out to see if they even had a chance of running out.

“Ghost, where the fuck are you?” Price growled into his comms. The other man had been radio silent for almost half an hour now, ever since this stupid cat and mouse game started. They’d come in here to chase the bastards down, yet somehow his team were the ones being chased. It was beyond irritating, and it was also putting them in unreasonable danger.

“Cap!”

Gaz’s sudden yell had Price’s head on a swivel, following the man’s gaze to above them. Somehow, the third soldier of the little trio had managed to flank them, looking down at them from another isolated catwalk.

How Price neglected to watch their six, he didn’t know.

All he knew was there was a barrel of a rifle pointed straight at them from 10 metres up.

Within milliseconds, he knew three things; one, he wouldn’t be able to move Gaz and himself out of the firing line without making themselves vulnerable to the other hostiles. Two, any move they made now had them killed. And three…

Makarov was behind these soldiers.

Because who else would make their most deadly soldier, the most aggressive of the trio, the one that risked his life even more than his teammates, the one who seemed to hold easy leadership over the others—

Who else would shave their best soldier’s head into a mohawk, if not to taunt them?

Before he could even think to shield Gaz, pull him to his chest in a last-ditch effort to protect him in the hope that someone would get back home to tell their story, a dark blur slammed into the back of the soldier above, sending his rifle clattering to the floor. It was almost surreal, watching the mohawk’d soldier struggle against darkness, the occasional flash of stark white dancing around him.

Fists were exchanged. Bullets were sprayed towards them sporadically, but too out of range to hit accurately. The short barrier of the catwalk bit into the soldier’s lower back, starting to dangerously teeter further and further over it.

The rifle’s impact to the concrete hadn’t even finished echoing around the hangar when Price watched two figures tumble from the catwalk, grappling in the air. A sickening thud followed, the two bodies rolling with each other, parting and leaving one still on the ground while the other heaved on his hands and knees.

The moment of stunned silence seemed to hang forever, though it was only a second in reality. The gunfire had stopped, two sets of footsteps echoing down the corridors away from them. It left Price’s team, Gaz frozen and Ghost shaking with adrenaline, with an unconscious soldier.

Ghost crawled over to the body first, followed by Price standing over him. His veins were molten in rage, scorned again by the sight of his closest soldier posed over an unmoving soldier with a mohawk.

Fuck, they even got his eyebrow scar. I wonder what they did to create that?

Unlike last time, though, a muffled groan left the man on the ground, the body shifting slightly uncomfortably. His eyes (blue… what the fuck?) fluttered open, blinking away the confusion that likely fogged his mind. He breathed in, deep and full—

Even Price flinched at how fast the soldier’s hands came up to grasp at his mask, gasping, choking behind it, clawing desperately at a crack that spanned the left side of it. Blue eyes lit up with desperation, legs coming up to kick uselessly at the ground, back contracting as if in pain.

Reacting as a unit, Gaz moved forward to hold the soldier’s legs down, Price grabbing the man’s vest and forcing him down with all his might, Ghost grabbing his arms, forcing one to his side for Price to pin under his knees and holding the other one down. Even with three people on him, the soldier put up a good fight, even though it seemed like it was out of panic more than resistance.

Ghost grabbed the mask, struggling with the release catches that seemed to be stitched into the side of the man’s head, unable to get them loose. With a growl, he shuffled to force the soldier’s other arm down with his own leg, grabbing his throwing knife and carefully shucking it into the stuck lip of the release. He hit the butt of his knife, hearing the catch pop open before forcing the soldier’s head to the side and repeating the action.

The soldier only seemed to fight harder, turning his head away frantically as Ghost tried to yank the mask off. Despite having three people on him, he still managed to jostle them, pulling his hand out from under Ghost and earning himself a painful twist of the wrist.

“Ghost…”

“Stay still, fucker—”

With a final tug, the cracked mask is thrown from the soldier’s face, and it only makes the man thrash harder. His gasps for air are no longer muffled, the painful choking and heaves bouncing off the tall walls around them, surrounding them as they tried to hold him down.

It isn’t until his body tenses up completely, lips going blue that Price is finally able to get a proper look at the soldier’s face, and once again time stands still.

Those damn blue eyes stared up at Ghost, not breaking eye contact, and Price could swear he feels each of Ghost’s muscles tense up individually, his breathing stop alongside the body beneath them. The crude scar that dissected through the man’s chin was on full display, and he thinks he hears Gaz gasp beside him, his eyes glancing between the man’s face and Price’s own.

The soldier’s head was turned towards Ghost just enough to reveal the edge of the left side of his hairline, where a fading but ugly scar puckered right along his temple.

Price doesn’t stop Ghost from getting up and walking away once the man on the ground falls unconscious, his heart rate slow and his breaths returning even slower, but returning nonetheless.

Price doesn’t stop Gaz moving to take Ghost’s place, grabbing the body’s face so firmly yet so delicately, moving it back and forth as if to check he was real.

Price doesn’t react with anger when Laswell is silent on the other side of the radio, nor does he answer any questions except to insist on an emergency evac for their ‘prisoner’.

Price doesn’t do anything, except recite the paperwork they’d filed just two years ago, fixing it in his head over and over to come to terms.

John “Soap” MacTavish: KIA ALIVE

——————————————————————————

“This is fucking insane, even for Makarov.”

Nobody discounted Gaz’s observation, all just staring through the glass into the guarded hospital room holding John fucking MacTavish, lying still while tubes breathed for his sedated body. Well, all except Ghost.

They hadn’t seen Ghost in days.

Funnily enough, Nikolai had gone radio silent around the same time, too.

Hm.

Even Laswell had made her way over from her most recent post, vowing to lead the investigative efforts into Soap’s condition. The good thing was, he was relatively unscathed. Littered with new scars, sure. Aggressive and unforthcoming with even attempting to remember any of them, that too. Oh, yeah, and his body tries to shut down every time they take him off of the highest dose of anaesthetics, and nobody knows why, and he can’t tell them why.

Price has a headache.

“John.”

Price, Gaz, and the few medics with them all turned as Laswell approached, and their reaction was immediate. They all seemed to see the gravity in her features, sense the density of what she had to say on her tongue. Her frustration and worry was palpable, in her own stone-cold way.

Price hasn’t seen her like this since… well, ever. It didn’t invoke him with much confidence.

“We finally got the toxicology results back for the gas in the tanks,” she stated, though she didn’t offer the paperwork in her hands. Actually, she gripped the package with white knuckles. Another action that made Price even less confident this news was going to be anywhere near pleasant.

“And?”

“He’s developed a non-lethal strain of Nova gas.”

Silence. Pure silence. Disbelief? Bewilderment? Surprise? Who fucking knows. But they were silent.

“Nobody’s sure how it works just yet,” Laswell continues curtly, looking to Soap’s body through the window. “But it’s a pretty strong theory as to why Sergeant MacTavish was acting so…”

“Zombie-like?” Gaz offers, an interruption met with Laswell pursing her lips for a moment.

“I’d prefer another word, but if it fits.”

Quiet befalls them all again, Price scratching at his beard in an attempt to dispel the twisting mess of anger, worry and confusion. It’s been hard, trying to continue applying pressure to Makarov while they’re a Lieutenant down and distracted by an old teammate basically raised from the dead.

“We managed to extract some files from a hard drive found in one of Makarov’s bogus operation suites,” Laswell continued, looking back to John with more concern than before, really not helping on the confidence front. “I have people combing through them, though a lot of them are encrypted so thoroughly they’ll take days to decode. However, there are a few bits and pieces of jumbled reports, seemingly test experiments involving the new strain. The only new information we have at this point is how they acclimatise their patients to the gas.”

“Acclimatise?” John repeated, gruff with restrained emotion. Leadership and professionalism was always important, but right now, he couldn’t care less about seeming totally calm.

“Yes, acclimatise,” it sounded barbaric with the way she said it, like it was glimpse into what it meant. “They’d place the test subjects into gas chambers, restrained, and flood the chamber with the gas. Somehow the body adapts to rely on the gas as air after rigorous training.”

“Torture through suffocation more like,” Gaz grumbled, glancing between Price and Laswell, whose jaw ticked.

“Apparently, the gas is most effective when the patient is fully reliant,” she added, then shrugged. “Effective in what way, the team has no clue. Though they’re pretty confident it’s the efficacy to reduce cognition enough to lose the ability to do anything without outside influence.”

“Like a damn personal attack dog,” Price growled.

A beat of silence lingered, everyone in the room trying to comprehend how this would affect Soap’s recovery. If he could recover at all.

“So that’s why he acts like he’s suffocating when he’s conscious?” Gaz inquired. “Because he is?”

“We can only assume so.”

“This is so fucked up,” Gaz whispered, linking his hands behind his head and looking to Soap again. It was like some movie bullshit, the impossible becoming possible but without the safety of being in your living room. Watching a tornado head your way when you’re in the middle of a damn field. Absolutely impossible to comprehend, yet happening anyway, beyond your control.

“We’re going to see if keeping him sedated and letting his body recover from what could be years of exposure will reverse the effects of the chemical,” Laswell said slowly, but interrupted herself with a sigh, looking to Price earnestly.

Price thinks he sees his last sliver of confidence drift off in the breeze of the ventilation.

“We also have to consider his supposedly lethal GSW,” she slowly continues, shuffling where she stood. “We can only assume the parts of his brain responsible for memory, speech, thought processing was impaired with the injury.”

“There’s a chance nothing will change because his injury could have destroyed his ability to reason and remember before the gas,” a medic speaks up, putting the dots together quickly in her head and turning to Price, brow etched with concern. “There’s a very small possibility he will recover completely, or even to the point of independence.”

Price shared a look with Gaz, then the medics, and finally Laswell again. The words stuck in his chest, resistant to the idea of speaking something into being.

“We might not get Johnny back at all.”

——————————————————————————

…soooo :3

TLDR: Makarov has developed a new strain of gas, which he uses to suppress the cognitive reasoning in those that breathe it in, and allows him to train them into his cute lil super soldiers. The reason for the gas masks and everything? The soldier becomes reliant on it, their body adapting to rely on it fully like oxygen, otherwise they feel like they’re suffocating, hence needing to have it everywhere they go.

I know it’s very winter soldier, but to be honest it would make the most sense to me if Soap’s survival becomes canon. It rolls a few pre-MWIII theories into one; Soap ‘dies’ (canon), Soap is the traitor, and Soap is brainwashed by Makarov. It would be so interesting imo, and if they don’t take it I WILL RIOT—

Anywayyyy… I have vague explanations for things, i.e spreading his ashes that could totally work (with a little bit of narrative bending ✨) but I ain’t gonna go into it here and now. I could though…

Also, I know Nova gas isn’t what the gas is called, that it’s a similar thing from a grenade in the game. But fucking sue me, I’m not gonna make Laswell say “he’s developed a new strain of Unspecified Chemical Gas” like it’s some 13 year old’s Garage Band song they forgot about. Chill. It even says on the (totally very reliable) wiki that the closest thing is Nova gas, seeing as it’s the EXACT SAME except players who inhale it don’t cough. Stay back, Call Of Duty purists!! 🤺💨

[snurtsnurtcreations]

The Fisherwoman Pt 3

Call of duty pirate au outline part 3 (links: part 1, part 2, part 4)

Pirate captain Soap x Former navy officer now pirate first mate Ghost x fisherwoman reader

Welcome to my most recent brainworm :D Enjoy!

Warnings: kidnapping, getting flogged, sleazy guy, death of sleazy guy

You throw yourself fully into work, life exactly as it had been for the past ten years, and yet suddenly so much more empty. You take your mind off it by keeping busy, fishing, knitting, humming and singing when you’re alone to ward off the sickening silence.

One day you’re minding your business at the marketplace, selling your fish, when you see someone that looks like they belonged with the late Shadow crew. You subtly keep your eye on him, and whaddaya know, overhear him grumbling to his partner that “none of this would have happened if Graves had listened to me and not taken the deal with General Shepherd…”

General Shepherd! Good grief that sounds like a big wig name. You file it away for later.

“At least that damn Cap’n Soap and that Ghost of his are right on track to the trap.” His companion mumbles. Your ears perk up even more at that, heart racing and mind going off at speeds unimaginable.

“Damn right. Seems they fell for it hook line and skinker. I just wish we hadn’t lost the whole damn crew for it.” the man scoffs, “Y’think if I complain about it to Shepherd when we report in, he’ll compensate us?”

“Unlikely.”

Well. Now you’ve got a million and one thoughts occupying your mind. After a night of pondering what to do with this information, you decide it’s about time for a long overdue visit to your dear cousin

So you sell your stock, let the neighborhood know you’ll be out, leave a note on the tabe describing your whereabouts in case the two did come home before you did, put on your pretty new boots, holster the new flintlock pistol Simon got you, and hitch a ride with the traveling merchant to the big city a day’s trip out

Your cousin is a captain of his own little passenger ship, ferrying folks between France and England. He also had quite a way with words: where you were a fisherwoman by trade, he knew how to fish for information.

He eagerly welcomed you into his home, and listened intently as you explained the situation. He oohed and aahed at your ring, congratulated you, and got serious as you explained the more delicate details.

“You know what? I betcha Ms. Laswell would know more about that. Why don’t we find her at this event, I’ll introduce you to her, we’ll see what we can learn, and then we’ll go from there?”

“That sounds fantastic, thank you Leo, I knew I could count on you!”

So you go to the event, a little out of sorts but confident for the sake of your husbands. Leo introduces you to a whole selection of people, young and old, man and woman, some in military uniform, others in nobles attire. He lead you to a distinguished woman in a crisp military uniform, her stature sharp and poised.

“Ms. Laswell! How are you this fine evening? Let me introduce you to my cousin,” and so Leo goes on and on, and somehow turns the conversation toward pirates, and from there to the infamous Captain Soap

You learn a lot you hadn’t known that surely must have been known by the wider public and likely wouldnt have been news had you not been from a small town

“Mr. Connell,” Laswell narrows her eyes at Leo, “I know you well enough… what is it you’re fishing for this time?”

“Who, me? Don’t be silly,it’s my cousin who’s the fisherwoman.”

“Yes, well, it was nice to meet you, ma’am, and always good to see you Mr. Connell, but I really ought to get going.”

The event had certainly been a learning experience, as you’d learned a lot about the many different pirate crews on the seas, but most important was learning who General Shepherd was. You’d been able to catch a glimpse of him surrounded by a group of others, and even caught some of the conversation. The man was in charge of putting a stop to piracy, and hated Captain Soap specifically with a passion. He very assuredly stated that soon those pirates shall be no more

None of that helped you figure out how to help your loverboys, but it did give you a starting point on what exactly could be going on out there and the nature of the trap.

Leo suggested you tag along for his trip to France and back, see the sights, relax a little, possibly hear some gossip that might further paint the picture of what’s going on out there. You readily agree.

And as a matter of fact he turns out to be right. General Shepherd’s wife just so happened to be on board. She openly complained about how the man was married to his job and how even with her all he’d talk about was how much he hated those pirates. “But he promises soon they will be no more. He’s going to have them killed at the Cape of Good Hope, you see! Oh, it certainly gives me good hope to finally be rid of those pesky pirates.”

You feel sick to your stomach all of the sudden, and excuse yourself from the conversation by virtue of sea sickness. You don’t get far though

It turns out that being on a ship with a big wig is a horrible idea. Pirates strike at that moment, tearing through the ship, looking for one Mrs. Shepherd. You glance back at the noble and jump to cath her as she faints from the stress of the situation.

Which is how the pirates find you, cradling the limp body of their target. What looks to be their captain haughtily strides in, glares down his nose at you tow, then tells his crew, with a strange accent you don’t recognize “An attendant? Take them both.”

As you’re being taken away, you notice the pirates setting up some sort of charges all over the ship, connected by a wire. Your cousin is slumped against the mast cradling a bloody wound in his abdomen, eyes angry but body unresponsive. A pirate hands a little block to Makarov, the last pirate on the boardwalk. With a press of the button, he returns to his ship, and just as the pirate ship gets some distance from the passenger ship, a quick chain of explosions demolishes the ship and all who were left on it

Which is how you end up on a certain Captain Makarov’s ship, confined to a fairly spacious quarters above deck, but prisoners all the same. You do your best to comfort the hysterical Mrs. Shepherd, even as your own heart is aching with the loss of your cousin and the barely suppressed panic at the entire situation. To those pirates, you are no one. Mrs. Shepherd at least had a chance by virtue of being an important hostage, but you? You’re thought of as nothing more than the lady’s servant. Easily dispensable.

None of the crew care enough to pay much attention to you two though, and that is a small relief. They feed their hostages the bare minimum, then lock the door on their way out.

Well. All but one. One man keeps sending you sleazy glances, but thankfullyhe hasn’t tried anything. Yet. His gaze makes you lad the pirates hadn’t bothered patting you down for weapons. Your pistol was still in its holster, hidden under your skirts.

You and the missus play memory games to pass the time and make the fear feel less overbearing. Sometimes you sing a song to stabilize yourself. Mrs. Shepherd greatly appreciates the sound, though she comments it’s not quite in tune as this one singer she met. Mrs. Shepherd loves to talk and she easily fills the silences with tales of great shows and places she’s seen. You believe a week or so passes in this way.

You have a nightmare, once, waking with a gasp. When the sight that greets your eyes does nothing to alleviate your stress, you close your eyes, curling up with the blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You imagine being within Simon and Johnny’s embrace.

The days become oddly routine.

Until one evening, about an hour after you got your usual dinner, a crewman returns to the quarters. He points a stubby finger at you.

“You. Up. Let’s go.”

Stiffening, you rise and follow the man out. He grabs your upper arm to steer you where he needs you to go. A careful survey of the situation reveals that it seems the ship is partying. Half the men are drunk and the others are either on their way there or busy playing cards, chatting with each other in a foreign language, laughing rambunctiously.

The man leading you guides you right to Captain Makarov himself

“Servant girl.” The captain greets. “My crew tell me your siren song has them enchanted. You must understand, they have not been in a woman’s company in much too long, so the bar truly is very low, but they claim that you have the best singing voice they had ever heard. Sing us a song, servant girl.”

You stiffen, suddenly aware of the many eyes on you. You want to be defiant, to spit in his face and tell him you’re not a servant, least of all to him, but. But you must be cautious. You must be careful. You are dispensable here.

So you sing a song, and then another when asked, and another. Some of the pirates take out instruments and start playing along, the drunk ones warble along with you, and it seems to be quite the jolly experience for the whole crew. But you couldn’t force yourself to relax in this company even if you’d tried. You stand off to the side once no one asks for more songs, quiet as a mouse, as they continue their merry making. You don’t dare move from your spot until the captain give you a little clap, says “Very good.” like you’re a trick dog that deserves a treat, and then a crewman take you back to your prison.

Mrs. Shepherd, of course, wants to know everything that happened. After hearing the retelling, she for some reason gets it into her head that the Captain ust have liked her, and oh how scandalous! But perhaps you could use this to your advantage! And-

You listen to her prattle on late into the night, until she finally falls asleep. You can’t help but wonder if you’re even going to survive this whole ordeal. How stupid of you to have gone on this whole trip. Had you really thought you’d be able to do anything to help your lovers? Where were your boys now? Halfway to their destination? Likely within each other’s arms, Johnny’s deep voice lulling them to sleep. How you wished to have just one more night within their embrace. Would they ever know what happened to you if you died out here?

Cut to Johnny and Simon on the Stalker, yelling at their crew as they fight an oncoming storm. The ship tips dangerously to the right, the crew holding on for dear life to not topple into the waters, and then it rights itself. Waves slosh over the sides of the ship, and bucketfuls of rain hit hard, making everything slick and wet. Simon just barely saves a crewman from falling over the side of the ship, then holds on himself for dear life as the ship tilts again. A ray of moonlight breaks through the clouds. Just a little longer, Johnny thinks as he ties a rope. Knocked off his footing by a sudden wave, Simon starts sliding across the deck. Johnny catches him just in time and pushes both of them into the railing as a barrier between them and the ocean. Just a little longer.

The rain eases up and the waves settle slowly, and suddenly it is like there was no storm at all. A cheer raises up from the crew, the moonlight a gentle reminder that most folks are asleep at this hour. Soon, after checking everything over, everyone settles down for the night.

Simon drags Johnny into bed, both of them exhausted but glad that the worst of the trip is over with. They’re halfway there, and then they could make the trip back home, back into your arms.

“What d’yoo think she’s doin right noow?” Johnny asks tiredly, his eyes half closed in an attempt to stay awake.

“Probably got her guitar out. Singing a song ‘fore bed.” Simon murmurs, eyes already closed.

“Ah miss ‘er”.

“Me too.” Simon sighs, “Soon. We’ll be home soon.”

Soon.

Cut back to Makarov’s ship. The following morning is awfully quiet on deck, but the prisoners’ breakfast is served as usual. Unfortunately, it is served by the sleazy man, who has a disgusting grin on his face. He drops the breakfast off on a table and closes the door behind him as he steps closer. A pit of dread fills your stomach.

“You put on quite the show last night, little girl. Were you showing off just for me?” He closes in on you, cornering you with a hungry gaze. Mrs. Shepherd, who watches this all unfold wide eyed from her seat, starts shouting and screeching for help.

You try to unexpectedly make a run for it, but he is faster, coils an arm around your waist and throws you down onto the floor. Your ears ring for a moment, and he’s already on top of you, his hands scrambling to push you skirt up. You kick him inthe face, your own hands racing up your thigh and taking out your pistol

He only has time to widen his eyes before BANG… and he’s lying on the ground in a puddle of blood

Many feet come racing to the door, and a group of pirates stumble through the doorway, shouting, enraged when they see their fallen comrade. You hardly pay them any mind, trying hard to take deep breaths and not throw up, but your eyes are glued to the now dead man.

In walks the captain, and with one look at the scene, the trembling woman with her skirts hiked up, the gun held loosely in her hand resting on the floor, the dead man- he snarls a command, and his crew dutifully follow it.

The gun is pocketed, the dead man dragged away, and you are forced to your feet and marched out to the deck.

You’re pushed to your knees in the middle of the deck, which is unusually quiet -most men likely hungover and still asleep after the wild night they had. The few men that were up and about had all turned their attention to the current situation. The captain drags your head up by fisting a hand in your hair to meet his gaze.

“Now. I commend you for fighting back. For that, you have my respect.” The captain concedes. The men around boo and holler about injustice. The captain raises his voice. “All of my crew know that what he was trying to do contradicted with a direct order.”

The crew fell silent.

“However.” He lets your hair go. “You killed one of my men, and for that, you must be punished.” With an imperious glance, and a tilt of his head, he shrugs. “Twenty lashes.”

Your breath picks up, but you grit your teeth. You would live through twenty lashes. It would be horrible, and painful, and leave you even more scarred than you already were, but you would live.

They tie your hands to a post in front of you and tear the clothing off your back. You hold up what’s left of it against your chest, to preserve whatever little dignity you have left. You count in your mind in time with the crew.

One.

Pain, bright blinding pain as you’d never known before.

Two.

You lean forward, press your forehead against the post, gasping as the lash tears through your skin, through your muscle.

Three.

A cry of agony is ripped from your trembling form. Your whole body shakes. You would live. You would live. You would live. You repeat it like a mantra.

Four. Five. Six.

Only six! How cruel. How unimaginable. It feels like your back is torn to shreds, like all that remains is your spine and ribbons of what once was skin.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

…would you live? It feels as though there’s nothing left of your back. Nothing more to flay, and yet the lash kept coming, making you sob with each hit.

Ten.

Halfway there. Only halfway. You would not survive it, your jumbled mind pushes. It feels as though by the time they get to twenty lashes they will have carved all the way through you and have left you with a hole in place of a chest.

Eleven.

A pause. A whistle in the air. A crash as a cannonball collides with the deck, carving its way into the wood.

You can do nothing but lay there, curled up in a ball as the pirates on deck abandon you and rush to their defenses, shouting and yelling and feet pounding over the deck. They are not fast enough. Three more cannonballs have burst through the ship by the time the crew have even a semblance of defense up.

The other ship is already boarding, men dressed in Royal Navy uniforms breaching the ship. Bullets whiz by, wood splinters, the shouting continues. You watch with bleary eyes, then curl up once more, trying to even out your breaths, to sweep away the fuzziness that has overtaken your brain from the pain.

You black out.

[chthonicgodling]

hiiii quick pause from my incessant comic’ing and pending updates WITH a DIFFERENT canon line moment doodle !— from several many months ago;

…Maci is living her best life lately

fgkfkg okAY I just feel bad that in the brainworm inducing Taki Fuego dynamic, all Canon Convos and Artwork I’ve highlighted have gravitated around Loki and Tory together as just a duo, just cause it’s always Tory that gets these deep impassioned emotional conversations with him. Yes Maci appears in these upcoming comic updates but still this is fully accidentally the EeL & Tory show. The OoC reason for this is….. partially bc I write both Maci and Loki and there’s only so much talking to myself I can do lmfao, but the In Universe reason is genuinely that Maci is just NOT the person to go to to have impassioned emotional conversations with, she just is NOT. Maci is absolutely full of love and affection!! emotional maturity is not under that umbrella. But but but!!!

Like, aaahhh she’s here too don’t forget she’s here too, in fact dare I say she’s absolutely integral to the entire dynamic as the person who sHOVED THE TWO OF THEM TOGETHER IN THE FIRST PLACE, and eagerly lit the fuse that ignited all three of them BUT particularly EeL and Tory to bond. ‼️And she ABSOLUTELY is just as obsessed w EeL as Tory is and absolutely loves him as much as Tory does‼️it’s just that HER love language is more along the lines of,,

:))) weelll it’s Maci what do you expect.

(& to Loki’s absolute aghast dismay he’s as obsessed with her as he is Tory TOO. augh!)

And so this is just a friendly reminder, really.

ANYWAY the next actual Elysium drama update comic, the one that comes after this one (and this one) is 5 out of 11 pages done sooo bear with me pwtty pwease. My art radio silence was bugging me while I’ve been in the trenches so take this quick silly slutty thing in the meantime💞 hm also uh. Despite being a Canon Convo line it’s OoC - Maci would never cover herself up fggkfkg

[fuctacles]

WIP TITLE GAME

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Thanks @yesdangerpls for the tag. I was planning to do a wip wednesday bc I've been in a bit of a funk after finishing the bang fic so I'll treat this as an opportunity to write 😅

I'm limiting myself to the 4thewords wips bc I'm not touching the google docs pit with a ten foot pole.

stevieween 2

Just help me cum

single dad steve

brainworms

late bloomers two

bad stobin

milf 6

artur

sharing is caring

stevie week weddingg

stevie week girls night

Stevie week 2 suck

H5

?xfiles

Divine inspiration

You can send asks with just the numbers :)

Tags (sorry if you've already been tagged): @pumpkinspiceeddie @formosusiniquis @kallisto-k @penny00dreadful @emchant3d

@steddie-island @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @wormdebut @trensu @eddiethebrave

[night-willows]

My brain has decided that Asakura is trans for some reason and I am using that as an excuse to infodump about him again (Also just how Asakura’s character pertains to societal gender roles. And it just kind of devolves into a general Asakura character analysis somewhat because I got sidetracked)

CW: spoilers as they pertain to Asakura’s character (including true route spoilers), all the potentially triggering themes of Asakura’s character (talking about pedophilia and POCD/OCD in general mostly and religious theming), discussions of transphobia and gender dysphoria, talk about sex as it pertains to POCD and gender dysphoria, one minor clean dishes spoiler randomly mentioned because this goes on far too many tangents lmao

Hyperfixated on Asakura again and the brainworms have started telling me he’s transgender because my music taste lately is mostly that specific genre of loud music made by transfems (Ada Rook, Black Dresses, Stomach Book, etc) and too many of their songs fit him. Songs that are about being discriminated against for being trans fit his story because transphobes see us as predators. ANYWAY my brain got confused about this and now will not stop making up more reasons why he is trans coded so I am going to explain myself to the probably two people who will get it. For context I am coming at this as a trans man myself and someone who generally thinks a lot about gender roles in society because of that! Also! I list the songs that made me think this at the bottom of this post so if you just want to skim through my lengthy infodump and scroll to the bottom to listen to those to get an idea of what the hell I’m talking about you can!

First off. His gender is exactly this to me

I think he’s some sort of agender/nonbinary and does not know!! I don’t know when he’d have the time to figure it out he’s going through a lot!! That is why I am mostly still going to use he/him throughout this post, for sake of ease (hard to talk about a character in a fandom using different pronouns than the rest of the fandom uses for them) and also I don’t think he’d get dysphoric about pronouns, if he ever WERE to figure it out imo he’d use any pronouns. I think he mostly gets dysphoric about the societal role of a man being forced onto him when it feels so unlike who he truly is. I mean specifically the societal role of all men being awful, capable of horrible crimes, people to be afraid of. Now I know people who say things like “all men are evil” are people who have been harmed by misogyny/the patriarchy and are aware that it’s not LITERALLY all men who are bad people. BUT there are people like Asakura who this stigma affects badly too, he’s got a terrible case of harm ocd, hearing people say shit like that while being seen as a man is obviously gonna get to him. That coupled with how many people are afraid of HIM because of the rumors, he can’t distance himself from that and tell himself he’s a good man so he’s not who they’re talking about. He’s the kind of man they hate, he’s the kind of man they’re afraid of, and he hates being seen like that more than anything. Now obviously this narrative could be true and he could still be a cis man but. I just think it makes it so much more interestingly fucked up if this role of a man was just thrusted on him since he was born and he spent his whole life being told he was a man by everyone around him and just accepting that but deep down it never really felt right. I mostly think it’d make sense if he was agender, but the type of agender who could go their whole life not knowing it because they are content enough with letting people perceive them how they wish. Except, he’s not content with it anymore because his thoughts about being perceived as a man are getting so wrapped up in his thoughts of being perceived as a pedophile that he’s just started to hate both of them? Most of this is unconscious, he doesn’t think about it hard enough to realize but this IS what his gender dysphoria looks like for him. I also think in general he is VERY sexually repressed, because it’s hard for him to think about sex at all without accidentally getting intrusive thoughts about children and then he ends up distressed and in an ocd thought spiral about it so he copes by just… avoiding anything sexual entirely as much as possible because he doesn’t want that to happen again. This is something I thought about before but I think it can pertain to gender dysphoria too? Lots of trans people will feel sex repulsed sometimes when the dysphoria is bad, because there’s societal gender roles placed on our bodies and what kind of sex we’re “supposed” to have with them and it can just… get too icky to think about for too long when you are in a bad headspace. Asakura’s idea of that is just even further skewed by the fact that his ocd is making him see being seen as a man sexually as being seen as a future sex offender and he cannot handle that thought at all, so this specific type of dysphoria is very extreme for him. Note that people with intrusive thoughts like this and with dysphoria can of course still be sexual sometimes when they are in a healthier mindset but. I think at the time in his life we see Asakura in canon his pocd is at its worst so he’s not really getting many breaks to have a good mindset. I think he needs to go to therapy and unlearn all this shit and get medicated so that he can start to heal!! I think that’d help out his mindset on all this stuff and how he sees gender A LOT to the point that he might even get enough insight to actually figure out his gender. Even if he’s not a man the way he views being seen as one isn’t healthy whatsoever, and I think working on the ocd aspect there would help with the dysphoria aspect too.

I also think he was at least a little bit groomed by that college professor of his and has trauma from that and that’s affecting how he views men too. That man was someone’s he respected and viewed as a good man, and that view of him was ripped to shreds and completely betrayed as he LITERALLY TOOK HIM TO A CHILD BROTHEL AND COERCED HIM INTO CUTTING A CHILD WHILE HE WAS TOO DRUNK TO KNOW WHAT HE WAS DOING. This event is what traumatized him into developing pocd in the first place. It showed him that even “good” men can turn out to be horrible on the inside. So what if that’s true of him too? Even now that he’s moved to Shinkoumi and is seen as a “good man” by most of his patients and their families what if he’s lying to all of them? Misleading them like his professor did to him? Pocd is often developed due to past trauma from this type of grooming. How far it went outside of canon material can be left up to the imagination but. Even strictly going by only what we know, he learn that the teacher he looked up to he found out was likely a pedophile (why else would he know of that place? I think it was implied he probably went himself before?) and tried to rope him into it, using his respect for him to his advantage to get his inhibitions down and manipulate him into doing something horrible. Even just that is traumatic as hell.

ALSO let me tell you about how I think the societal role expected of a woman, especially when paired with the purity culture aspect that comes from Christianity, fit his character too. I think I might need to tell you about my dad first?? A lot of this aspect of my headcanon is inspired by my dad, I can explain it better if I explain how it relates to them. So, my dad is genderfluid, and repressed this and any sort of queerness in general until their mid/late 40s due to how they were raised. They only realized they were genderfluid after I came out as trans and they did a lot of research on trans people to be as supportive as they could be to me, and accidentally found out that THEY related to a lot of this too. Anyway, they strongly associate their feminine side WITH their role as me and my sister’s parent. They were the stay at home parent, they took care of us and played the stereotypical role of a mother, so they’ve always felt more like a mother to us than a father. They saw their femininity in their caring parental nature, and that’s EXACTLY why I connect Asakura to that same type of femininity, especially being in his 40s and repressing his identity so hard he hasn’t figured it out yet too. I don’t know I just love my dad so it makes me sympathize hard with older queer people just starting to figure things out. Anyway. BASICALLY this part of the headcanon/how Asakura’s character pertains to gender roles is talking about how a woman in society is seen as a caregiver and protecter of children. The exact opposite of how Asakura’s mentally ill brain is boiling down the role of a man as someone who will HURT children. And like. Asakura has such strong instincts to want to protect children I think?? I know he tells Towa he doesn’t want to have kids, but he would have made a great parent and I think he would have WANTED kids, if it weren’t for the pocd. I think he could still get a lot of fulfillment out of that if he was ever able to heal enough to care for a child without hurting his own mental health and putting the child at risk. Like.. obviously I don’t think he’s going to act on his intrusive thoughts but. He can’t be a good caregiver if he’s having them and getting distressed because of his child constantly and maybe trying to avoid interacting with them out of fear. ALSO you saw what happened to Hayato when he was circumstantially thrown into taking care of a child at his worst, he got so delusional about the angel thing that he almost tried to sew wings into him (I think the angel thing is an extreme case of a compulsion to the pocd, if he convinces himself he sees children as pure angels it calms his intrusive thoughts/obsessions about them.) Anyway while I think he did this because he was so unwell that he legitimately thought it was the only way to protect him from him from himself, Hayato still almost got really hurt and Towa, while consensually, DID get hurt. So like Asakura would need to do a LOT of healing before ever being responsible for a child most definitely.

But… he does genuinely love children in a normal way, he cares about them a lot. Why do you think he chose to dedicate his life to their care as a pediatrician? Why do you think he tried his best to take care of Hayato when his mother left him with him, even when it was making him feel horrible? That parental/motherly nature of his is the reason he couldn’t let himself just abandon Hayato too when he needed him. I think he didn’t want to be around him any more than he had to of course, I think he only meant it to be a short term thing and was trying to find someone better fit to take care of him because he was scared of what he’d do to him and trying to protect him from that. But Shinkoumi is a dystopian hell and they probably don’t have many good systems set up for orphans. There’s the facility that Shiro grew up in? I guess? But they didn’t seem all that great at like actually getting the kids adopted lmao they just sent him to live on his own at 13. I don’t know if there’s any proper fostering system and I wouldn’t be surprised if even orphanages like Shiro’s were few and far between. Even when Hayato DOES eventually get sent somewhere it’s on the mainland. Asakura was probably having a hard time finding anything and too paranoid to ask for help and get others involved. And… maybe a little worried about if they’ll actually take care of Hayato properly and not just neglect him? And he cares about him and doesn’t want to have to abandon him now that Hayato’s gotten attached to him right after his mother did? And the harm ocd might be spiraling about that too because he knows that that abandonment and being sent to a neglectful orphanage WILL traumatize him and he is just left paralyzed and unable to make a decision on what is best to do because the kid NEEDS a parent, and that’s not an option, but he is seeing Asakura as his parent now and he wishes he could be that for him but he can’t. Hayato’s mother abandoned him and gave him to him, maybe he could be the new mother? Or play the role of a mother? At least for a little bit until he gets someone else to take care of him? I think he tried his very best to do that in the time Hayato was under his care. I think he knows how to take children well, I mean he went to medical school specializing in pediatrics, I’m sure that talks about general childcare at least a bit. He has to know how to tell parents how to care for their children properly, I’m sure he knows enough to take care of a kid himself at least short term too.

ANYWAY I am getting sidetracked just. Also the purity culture part, a lot of Asakura’s character is about wanting to be pure and good in a religious kinda way? Of course purity culture can affect anyone but it’s especially bad in women growing up in religious environments so that’s the connection there. Women are expected to be pure because misogyny. While I think the motherly/caring feminine association reflects his genuine self, the purity culture side of it reflects the compulsions he engages in to convince himself that IS his genuine self and not the “evil man” perception people put onto him. Asakura’s entire character is way more interesting if you look at everything through the lens of an ocd cycle of obsessions and compulsions. The fear and paranoia about being a pedophile is the obsession, the fixation on being “forgiven” and seeing children as angels and wanting to create an angel is the compulsion. So my thought process is wouldn’t it be so cool if I made Asakura’s entire character a metaphor on societal gender roles too?? Using how his pocd functions AS that metaphor?? Being seen as and therefore believing he is a horrible evil man is the obsession, wanting to be a good pure Christian girl and repress any sexual thought (the intrusive ones AND any of them outside of that because he’s started to believe those are evil too), to validate the person he truly is is the compulsion. No this isn’t like “being trans is ocd.” Obviously. It’s a metaphor. I’m using Asakura as a metaphor for being trans. Again I don’t think he consciously thinks about this shit this is just an unconscious thought process that relates to the rest of his character and the rest of his character is mostly about having pocd. AND this is why I feel like it fits him best to truly be agender/nonbinary instead of JUST a woman either. He’s been raised in a society with strict gender roles and is just fixated on both of these roles in different ways while he’s not really either. I DO think he has some femininity to him but in a nonbinary sorta way, like not ALL of that role is fake but like. He needs to unlearn how he sees gender so bad. But I mean he DOES have feminine aspects of his design in canon he has pretty long hair and pretty long eyelashes lol. Do you see it. I’ve been calling him my wife for months now just because. He just has a feminine aura about him I hope by now you get what I mean.

BUT the issue is that trans people, especially transfems are seen even MORE as just horrible predatory men trying to groom children by our society at large (and transphobia and Christianity DOES have a big overlap unfortunately, it fits the theming) so… he can’t just accept he might be anything but a cis man even when he hates being a man without being a type of person that’s seen even more as a possible threat to children. He can’t be a good Christian girl because he wasn’t born as a girl so it’s a lose lose situation until he gets THERAPY FINALLY. Get Asakura a good therapist and ocd meds and hrt he’ll be happier trust me. Does this make sense. Has anyone even read this whole post I know it’s really long and the fandom doesn’t care about him. If you got this far have I converted you to my trans Asakura brainrot let me know. Anyway! Songs! Here are the songs that are about being trans or gender roles and also about Asakura to me! (Some are just VERY Asakura coded and by trans people tbf but like. They also have religious theming and/or talk about being discriminated against and shit which I’ve explained in detail how I’m using as a metaphor as gender roles for him so…)

Songs that ARE directly about being trans:

Animals-STOMACH BOOK

FUKUONA GIRL-STOMACH BOOK

Boogieman-Baby Bugs

CREEP U-Black Dresses

Songs about related themes by these same trans artists (Black Dresses is a band Ada Rook is in btw):

Devils-STOMACH BOOK

Pure As A Lamb-Baby Bugs

Angels-Baby Bugs

You Can’t Hide- Baby Bugs

COWARD 2 COWARD-Ada Rook

999999999 IN A DREAM-Ada Rook

PURGATOR3Y MODULATION ENGINE-Ada Rook

SHARP HALO-Black Dresses

This is. The direct result of getting a hyperfixation on Stomach Book’s music last month. Did y’all even know that the song Fukuona Girl that was all over reels platforms as a popular audio a while back was about being trans? And it just uses the lyrics about the infamous Fukuona Shoujo gif where the little anime girl gets flayed alive as a metaphor? For being discriminated against for being trans because maybe transphobes want to do that to us? I ALSO think the theming of the gorey anime girl part fits super well for Asakura’s intrusive thoughts though especially since she looks young. It can also be about him being tormented by his intrusive thoughts. Is he the fukuona girl or are his intrusive thoughts? Kind of both? (I’m aware this song def fits Towa too lol but shh it can be a little bit about Towa tormenting Asakura his entire chapter and the parallels between how their stories connect and Asakura’s entire mental illness being spawned off of what he was manipulated into doing to Towa as a child and how he gets intrusive thoughts about that and stuff too)

Oh my goodness this is so long. I’m sorry I’m super hyperfixated on Asakura right now and also maybe having a manic episode? I’m not sure yet but it’s made my brain feel like it’s on 2x speed and I NEED to be rambling like this about everything all the time all week so. We’ll see what my therapist thinks lmao

[aaxzlyte]

how r the remisa thoughts

oh, anon how i love you so !! i will always appreciate you guys asking me to update you on my Remisa thoughts and i suspect this is the same anon that has done so before hehe ,,

anyway the Remisa thoughts are actually pretty good !!!! i have been super duper focused on Meronia lately so it may not seem like i'm working much on Remisa but i promise i am !!! (i'm always working on Remisa hehehe) (i am also working on a tiny bit of lawlight yuri that i hope to post in time for Light's birthday at the end of femslash February may the Lord be with me for this insane feat)

in reality i'm actually sorting out some stuff for what i consider to be my Project™ – basically just the current WIP that i treasure with my whole soul and basically it is my Roman Empire bc i think about it constantly, all day, every day, 24/7/365 <3

↑ i'm talking about my heart is rose-tinted (a dream world) of course !!!! my pride and joy !!

i also just read K's absolutely phenomenal Remisa fic that they wrote for me originally for Secret Santa (find it here!!) and ofc this sparked so many brainworms,, i love the way K writes Remisa so so so so much !! <3

lately i've been leaning away from PWPs for Remisa and more toward some fluffy or angsty stuff – currently i'm working on a short little ficlet about Musical Remisa which we all (hopefully, by now) know that i cherish with my whole heart and mind ,,, plus i have a few pieces here and there —other than 'my heart is rose-tinted'— that i'm tentatively working on !!

i'm hoping to get one or two Remisa fics out this month – more specifically one on Valentine's Day -huzzah!!

spoiler, i originally had a 'my heart is rose-tinted' side piece that was meant to be uploaded on Valentine's Day but... i was also supposed to upload the second chapter is like... January fucking 1st ... and that didn't happen so no Remisa Valentine's PWP i'm very sorry i promise i will get it finished eventually i'm just struggling with porn lately for Remisa and that's like... half of 'my heart is rose-tinted's plot for the first half so...

BUT ANYWAY ON A MUCH BETTER NOTE: i have so many Remisa ideas in the works at the moment over at aaxzlyte HQ !!! so stay tuned bc i will actually end up on the news if i don't get any Remisa don't this month for femslash February </3 – i will go crazy... people will get hurt. /j

okay ty anon love you anon bye anon !!!! :)

(–if anon wants more specifics then anon is welcome to ask i love ranting as we can see hehe)

[ninadove]

20 questions for fic writers 📝✨

Thank you for tagging me, @bittersweetresilience! I love talking about myself. I’m my own favourite subject.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

As of now, 13! I’m keeping a couple in store as they were written for specific events.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

62,992 let’s GO

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Miraculous Ladybug and Professor Layton! I should really get working on the latter again…

4. What are your Top 5 fics by kudos?

@paracosmicat look at our babies. They’re doing so well 💜💚

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!!! I love exchanging with readers, especially since our little fandom niche is so comfy and warm. If you’ve ever left me a kind comment or a bunch of happy emojis, please know you made my day! 💖

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

WELL THEY ALL GET HAPPY ENDINGS

Clive isn’t doing too hot in The Lucky Ones right now, but it’s a WIP so he’ll get there. Eventually.

As for my finished fics, probably Everything I did (I did for you) pre-epilogue? I consider it to be a happy resolution, but Adrien is crying pretty hard.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

WELL THEY ALL GET HAPPY ENDINGS — Oh wait. I already mentioned that, didn’t I.

The fluffiest one (so far) is probably Avant-première!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! People have been wonderful overall. 💖

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh oh, my friends. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I am a little ace dove who gets a critical case of boredom whenever movies feel the need to feature a smutty scene.

Nothing wrong with the genre itself, of course — it’s just not my cup of tea!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

@dragongutsixofficial have discussed many crossovers over the years! Maybe one day I will commit one to paper. 🌍

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! Hopefully this doesn’t change.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but that would be a good exercise! Writing in my first language (🇫🇷) actually puts a bigger pressure on my shoulders.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

ABSOLUTELY AND HERE ARE THE GOODS:

Shadow Strike with @paracosmicat

Unmasked with @paracosmicat

ephialtes / reverie with the Anarchist Gang Server (🎶 all of you, all of youuu 🎶)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

🎶 In canon they have never met 🎶

Special mention to Feligami, because. Duh.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

LISTEN I WILL FINISH IT I JUST NEED TO FOLLOW THE BRAINWORMS WHERE THEY TAKE ME

But right now it’s probably The Lucky Ones, my role swap AU for Professor Layton. I’ve been working on it since 2019 and I know where I’m going with it — it’s just taking a while to actually get there, y’know?

16. What are your writing strengths?

Well I’m very good at making myself cry. Which hopefully means the feelings are getting across to my lovely readers too.

I do have extensive experience on writing redeemed villains struggling to build back bridges with the people they love. 12 years of obsessing over a fictional terrorist will do that to you.

Technically speaking, though, I think I’ve gotten great at deleting bits of dialogue and description I don’t need to keep only the essentials! It makes my writing lighter, while also encouraging readers to explore the metaphors for themselves.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am paiiinfully slow and lose motivation easily when writing longer fics (see: The Lucky Ones). Shadow Strike is the exception to the rule, and what a wonderful exception it is. 💜💚

One-shots are the format for me, but I’ve been enjoying two and three-parters a lot lately!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don’t think I’ve had to do it before (except for the occasional nickname or curse word), but I’d probably be able to!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Professor Layton or Pokémon Black and White! I got into these when I was 13. Dragon Quest IX came a little bit earlier, but it took a while to finish, so my one big fic for it must have been around the same time.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

How could you make me choose (Shadow Strike)

How dare you even suggest I might like some of my babies more than the others (Shadow Strike)

Preposterous. I could never pick just one —

SHADOW STRIKE

Hmm. Yes. It is Shadow Strike indeed. @paracosmicat and I have so much fun working together and we get to be as self-indulgent as our hearts desire. Truly our masterpiece. 💜💚

From a technical perspective, I think Everything I did (I did for you) is my best work so far! I’m very proud of the metaphors carefully woven into this one. Photosynthèse was a nice training!

Everything I write for Feligami fixes something in my brain chemistry, and La nuit, tous les chats sont gris just. Makes me so happy. For so many reasons.

Tagging @dragongutsixofficial, @paracosmicat and anyone who would like to participate! 💖📝

[thelemoncoffee]

i've been playing SAR alot lately (cause i really want a specific cosmetic i have to complete a season pass to get) and i've been having brain worms for Saiouma playing it together.

please, allow me to brainrot for a post.

for ye who are unaware SAR (Super Animal Royale) is a top down battle royale with genetically engineered chibi furries in it called Super Animals. i don't normally like battle royales but this one is pretty nice with a good community, lore, and very rarely makes items unobtainable. its a good one for people who are looking for a chill battle royale, 10/10 would recommend

anywho saiouma playing SAR. i have so many brainworms- mostly to do with how they'd play the game, cosmetics they'd choose, and what game modes they'd prefer.

i can see Kokichi having been the one to have found the game, or was introduced to it by someone else, and then dragged Shuichi into it cause he wanted someone to share it with. he'd definatly into the classic royale modes (solo, duos, squads), and use to really love Mystery Mode before it was removed from the mode list (there's always mummers of it coming back, but it hasn't. he misses it so)

Shuichi on the other hand prefers the extra modes (SAW vs Rebellion, Bawking Dead) over the actual Royale, mostly cause the larger teams makes it less likely for him to die instantaneously, and in both cases death doesn't mean you are out of the game. in SVR your teams respawn but have a limited respawn count pool that's connected to how many points your team has left and the first team to 0 points loses, and in BD when you die you become a chicken zombie and get to be part of the respawning hoard attacking the remaining survivors. he doesn't like the stress being against 90% of the lobby right off the bat creates, so these two modes are all he ever plays unless Kokichi begs him to join him for a round of Duos.

weapons wise it's a bit trickier cause i'm not too familiar with all the weapons stats- hell i don't know the stats for the weapons i prefer- but fear not! i can uses the wiki to scrounge up stats and strategy information.

for these i'm formatting this a bit different cause there's two gun slots, a melee, a throwable weapon, and one power-up, so i'm going to do this but listing off the choices and explanations bullet point style. i won't list the melee options cause they are purely cosmetic, they all have the exact same stats and all choices are really just skins so it's pointless to list those off

Kokichi- Main gun: Hunting Rifle. Kokichi loves to makes this game hard on himself, so why not give him a really difficult gun to use, hell even the wiki is saying this gun is for experienced users. this thing needs to be reloaded ever shot, the reload takes longer than most guns, and it slows player movement the most out of any gun in the game (it's tied with the BCG in player speed but still). HOWEVER! despite this absolute bullshit, it's great gun in his hands cause if you know how to shoot it right you can break any level of armor in one shot and do critical damage to someone who's unarmored. Secondary gun: Thomas Gun. to combat his stubborn ass difficult main gun habits, this is his favorite late game gun. it's not too easy to find so when he can't find it he settles for anything he can get his hands on- but it's his favorite automatic cause it's great at destroying armor, doesn't slow his movements, and is designed for his preferred close range combat style. it's really good for when he get into the final 10 range and needs a quicker gun to wipe out his opponents in their now insanely smaller arena that is still rapidly closing in on them, threatening to suffocate them to death if they can't kill one another fast enough Powerup: Skunk Gas Snorkel. so the arena gets smaller via a ring of green gas called Super Skunk Gas that slowly suffocates you- there are also skunk bombs that people can throw to make smaller temporary clouds of it. this items allows you to take less damage while in the gas, and Kokichi, who loves to play games the hard way, would purposefully like to play chicken with the skunk gas and uses this to keep himself just a little safer Throwable: Banana. it's literally just a banana, you can use them to slip anyone both enemy and teammate and stun them for a few seconds. he uses these exclusively on his teammates to annoy the shit out of them.

Shuichi- Main gun: AK. imma be real i'm giving him my main guns cause i genuinely feel like my play style suits him. the AK is an automatic he picked up cause it's an automatic and that means he doesn't have to spam click, but kept it cause it works well with his tunnel vision game play style. it is one of the guns that slows you down the most when holding, and isn't the best for close combat, but put him in a small corridor with people running at him and he can plow them down with it while standing still (aha, i do that) Secondary gun: SMG. this is a lighter automatic gun that's bullet spread is pretty wide, so he uses it mostly when on the move and in wide open spaces as he moves from one cubbyhole of the map to the next. they also shoot a bit faster than the AK but that means nothing to him when half the bullets miss the target by the nature of the gun's balancing. Powerup: Ninja booties. these reduce the amount of noice your character makes while moving and increases your speed just a hair, they also hide your footprints that zombies in BD can normally see and follow. they don't actually help him out too much given he doesn't know how to stealth play to save his life, but they give him a sense of comfort to some degree and that's what matters Throwable: zipline. Shuichi- like most SAR players- cannot resist the sweet lure of a zipline to be mindlessly played on for way too long in the middle of a match, so why not be the one to deploy them and trigger the collective braincell? besides, he forgets he has the other throwables when they're needed in combat

okay, now i got that done, i know i made a post once where i assigned the V3 cast super animal skins, but that was based on which i think they'd be as characters, not as actual preferred skins. so now i present to you what i think Saiouma's main three skin choices would be

Kokichi- -his is pretty difficult for me to pick with cause there's a good few i think he'd really love. but my faves for him are the Alebrije variants of various animals due to how neon they are. there's six of them but the one i think he'd like the most is the tiger variant -for something less eyestrain tho, i also thin he'd like the pig on the principle of i hc that's his fave animal. i picked the Lunar Pig cause it's red and i also hc that's his fave color. he literally would use this just because it's two fave things in one -he'd also really like the dragons because dragons are fucking sick as hell, any skin would do but i think he'd get the Ice Wyvern first just because it's the hardest to get

Shuichi- -similar to why i picked the lunar pig, Shuichi's main is the Yellow Bearded Dragon because i hc he likes yellow and reptiles. his favorite Reptile is snakes, but there's no snakes in SAR so he went with the cutest reptile option they had instead - i cannot be convinced Shuichi didn't see the Tibetan Fox, wheeze laugh at it's stupid face for far too long, then decide to get him simply for his own amusement -the Goth Possum is his second favorite skin in the whole game honestly, he likes how it looks like it has eyebags, and it's gothic

okay i'm done now- i'd add weapon skins too but this post it too long as is, feel free to send me asks if you wanna know about those tho

[keilahseverin]

Spell your URL: keilahseverin

Spell out your URL using song titles that can describe your muse, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL!

Tagged by @humblemooncat and @bananarose yessss 2x tags means 2x effort let's goooo

My URL = one of my WOL's name because I am so very creative haha.

This was HARD, but uhhh I made it hard on myself. I approached this a little differently from the description above and built a "soundtrack" based on Keilah's story. I had several criteria for picking songs here:

Can't pick two songs from the same band or source.

The lyrics of the song, if any, have to be relevant to Keilah's personality or life somehow.

The overall vibe of the song has to fit Keilah.

No FFXIV OST, that would be too easy (but other FF titles were fair game... even though none of them made the cut, lul).

I think the criteria worked, because I was able to fish around in my library and memory for a collection of songs that I think represents Keilah well in many different ways! (Plus, new story brainworms moved in how about that??)

If you decide to do this challenge, I encourage you to find a fun way to represent your muse that makes sense for you! Song titles, songs from OSTs only, whatever :)

---

Here is the soundtrack:

K - Kid A, Radiohead - I slip away, I slipped on a little white lie

E - E. Is Stable, Menomena - Coldness sets in like fingernails raked across the door

I - I Walked, Sufjan Stevens - I would not have run off, but I couldn't bear that it's me, it's my fault

L - La cathédrale engloutie (The Sunken Cathedral), Debussy - The slow, quiet buildup conjuring images of a drowned cathedral slowly emerging from the sea... only for the waves to roll back in, engulfing the cathedral, as they ever have. I can't help but picture Keilah's big discoveries about her own past taking place during this song. Okay and maybe I cheated a little using the French version of the name "But Keilah there is also an S in your name" Yes shhh quiet it's okay shhhhh.

A - Area Zero, multiple composers/arrangers (Pokémon Scarlet & Violet OST) [potential Pokémon SV late-game spoiler!]- The mysterious feel of this track-- like you're stumbling upon knowledge you shouldn't be witness to-- fits well with Keilah's personal journey.

H - Hand in my Pocket, Alanis Morissette - I'm sad, but I'm laughing. I'm brave, but I'm chicken shit. I'm sick, but I'm pretty, baby

S - Sacrifice, The Weeknd - Every time you try to fix me, I know you'll never find that missing piece

E - Emil (Sacrifice), Keiichi Okabe (Nier Replicant 1.22... OST) - "There are as many ways to view the world as there are people in it."

V - Valley of Calm Trees, Klaxons - While passing through the clouds of diamond dust as two mock suns arise beside our one, the sun-dogs guide the way towards the east and set behind the valley of calm trees

E - Exit This Earth's Atomosphere, Camellia - keilahbossfight.mp3

R - Recover, Chvrches - And if I recover, will you be my comfort? Or it can be over. Or we can just leave it here

I - Invincible, Muse - Don't give up the fight. You will be alright, 'cause there's no one like you in the universe

N - No One Knows, Queens of the Stone Age - I drift along the ocean, dead lifeboat in the sun, and come undone

---

Tagging 13 people here we go, 0 pressure to do this especially if it's not your thing, more of an FYI hi this might be cool if you want: @archaiclumina @miqomonkly @gobbie-boom @ravendas-xiv @ishgardmuffin @umbralaether @irisopranta @emetkoto @arinaxiv @emc2beans @protection-and-pleasure @whimsyxiv @wingedasarath and of course anyone else that stumbles upon this and wants to try!

Feel free to do this with your character's name instead, whatever floats your boat really heh heh.