#i hope this isn't terrible

[lovelucilfer]

my beloved bestie in sin, @feitanporter dedicated a beautiful set of gifs to me. so in return, and after many a conversation about chrollo and his perfect nose, I have this to offer. part two to this post. and happy birthday to the king of thieves himself. 🕷🖤

In the bedroom Chrollo chuckles at the sight of your back turned to him, and is quick to close the distance. At the foot of the bed he smooths his palms over the skin of your bare arms, crossed in front of you, coaxing you to face him. The frown you wear is fake, wavering. You’re not nearly as good an actor as he is, and your body temperature is giving you away.

“You didn’t like it?” he teases, hooking a pale finger under your chin to make you look at him. He leans in then, until his lips are a hairsbreadth from your own, “I think the state of your panties is going to tell me otherwise.”

He watches with rapt attention and mirth, the way that you react to his words. Your body succumbing to lust, betraying the frustration you feel toward him at his calculated antics. How easy it is for him to put you in such a state of arousal. Fewer things in his life give Chrollo more satisfaction than to play with you like this. He’s thought often that your sweet desperation and unadulterated need for him are better than the spoils of any heist.

He can tell how needy you are by the way you fist the loose fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him nearer, providing him your thorough review of his little display from earlier with a deep kiss. You moan into his mouth and Chrollo thinks you must taste the sweetness of the citrus still lingering on his tongue. The sound of it goes straight to his cock. Though he's much more concerned with getting to taste you before doing anything else.

Chrollo guides you slowly until the backs of your legs knock against the mattress, urging you to sit at its edge as he continues to lick into your mouth with affection. The tips of his fingers flirt with the waistband of your sleep shorts before expertly hooking themselves into the satin, leaving your tank top and panties in place. With a helpful lift of your hips, being the ever careful and attentive lover that he is, he slides them down and off. He has half a mind to bring the piece of discarded clothing to his nose, but decides against it remembering he can go straight to the source. Sinking to the floor in front of you then, he rests his hands gingerly on both your knees. The authority in his stare makes you press your thighs together with heavy want and anticipation. He doesn’t miss it.

“Open them for me, sweetheart. Let me see.”

Calm and as patient as ever he squeezes gently. The encouraging touch prompting you to shift your weight back onto your elbows as you part your legs for him. Chrollo almost sighs at the sight, his mouth watering. You’re visibly wet. The thin, flimsy material of your underwear turned translucent where it sticks to you obscenely. Feeling the heat of his own arousal start to creep up his neck, he makes quick work of removing his sweatshirt, and moves to hold you open by the backs of your knees. You feel the hum of his approval as he kisses at the skin on the inside of your ankle, and then again at your thighs. The intimacy of the small action makes you swoon as your eyes follow his movements.

He can feel his blood run hot in his veins, rushing to his groin where he grows harder and harder in his slacks by the second the longer he looks at you laid out before him like this. Typically he is a man of quiet composure. But not with you. Not when he is mere inches away from your perfect pussy that’s soaked just for him. Not when you’re as intoxicating as you are. 

He pauses then, his gaze locking with yours for what comes next. Pressing his lips to the intricate lace, Chrollo kisses you over your panties before skillfully taking them off. Tightening his grip on your thighs to keep you still, he watches intently when you inhale a shaky breath before he lowers his mouth to you again. 

Chrollo’s tongue is warm and relentless. He knows where you’re weak. In all the time the two of you occupy each other’s company he spends a good amount of it keenly observing you, and the way that you observe him in return. It amuses him to know all the subtle ways that he can make you tick, to be acutely aware of the effect he has on you. Especially now as he watches you writhe on the edge of the bed while he eats you like a man starved. He can’t help but to smirk into the wet mess you make for him.

The lewd sounds of his mouth on your cunt cause your face and ears to burn with embarrassment, but the pleasure building in your core is wound tight. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him. Chrollo slurps at you greedily, the only way he knows how. He licks into you with a stripe from bottom to top, gathering everything you have to offer him at the tip of his tongue before spitting at your clit and watching it drip. When he pulls back to steal an indulgent glimpse of your fucked out expression, strings of saliva from his lips stay connected to you while his inky hair falls in front of his face. Reflexively you weave your fingers into it, bringing the beautiful cross tattoo adorning his forehead into view. You tug and a low moan slips from his lips. 

Eyes fixated on you, Chrollo suctions his mouth back to your pretty pussy. The rapid rise and fall of your flushed chest is not lost on him. He takes care to purposefully brush his nose against your sensitive clit, revelling in the way that you immediately squirm in response to the stimulation. The pointed tip of it is perfectly positioned as he lets his tongue swirl and delve lazily into your cunt. Your sweet sounds and broken cries of his name make his cock twitch and leak in his pants. Chrollo wants nothing more than to make your legs shake around his head.

You’re so close now, pending orgasm burning white hot in the pit of your stomach. He knows this all too well and works artfully, repeatedly pressing his beautiful nose to your clit like the future of the troupe depends on it. He’s dead set on making you cum, and all at once it’s too much. Because you are,

“C-cumming! -I’m cumming!” is a breathless, barely audible stutter on your lips.

The heat of it seemingly spiders across your body from the center out. Your back arching from the bed, hips rocking forward as both hands intertwine with Chrollo’s hair to desperately push his moaning mouth further into you, thighs trembling as you try not to close them too tightly. He has often entertained the thought of death and pondered all the ways in which he might meet it. But Chrollo is certain, if he were to die in this moment, suffocated face first in your pussy, he’d go happily. It would be more than worth it for the absolute glow that radiates from you when you finally release him from between your legs.

He can’t help but to smirk as he lets the expanse of his hands splay themselves over your still shaking thighs to soothe you. You’re staring at the ceiling, a layer of sweat glistening over your skin, panting from the orgasm he’s given you, and Chrollo thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He’s smug when he rises to his feet, expectant when you meet his unwavering, adoring gaze. An airy laugh leaves you as you roll your eyes at the dangerous man that you love in defeat. You know you have to answer him,

“I did like it.” 

The wicked smile he wears is coated in your slick, smeared cheek to cheek from loving you so well. Gentle as ever, Chrollo motions for you to shuffle back on the bed. He bends to take your hands in his own, bringing one of them up to his lips to press them to the soft skin of your wrist before interlocking your fingers and pinning them down. You find yourself craning your neck upward, mouth chasing his, needing to taste yourself on him. Pulling apart, his eyes rake over you, still hungry and dark,

 “I knew that you would, sweetheart.”

When Chrollo slots himself between your legs once more, hearing the surprised moan you give at the feeling of his still hard cock pressing into your thigh, he throbs in the confines of his slacks and makes a mental note to himself to be sure to buy more clementines.

[sophieswundergarten]

"Well, I'm glad that I met you too, Katie-Cat."

For one moment, in the split second after the words left his mouth, Milligan glances up to see Kate's surprised and confused expression across the breakfast table, before a glaring whiteness sears through his vision and he drops his head, grimacing in pain.

Kate's confusion quickly turns to panic and she shoots up, knocking her chair back from the table. She quickly comes around to him, her hand hovering above his shoulder, hesitant to touch him while he was experiencing such an intense memory flash. She hasn't ever seen him in such pain before, and it's starting to scare her a little. But she's the Great Kate Weather Machine, and nothing scares her, not even when Milligan reaches out to grip the table with white knuckles and shaking hands, trying to stabilize himself.

"Milligan?" She asks softly. "Milligan, are you doing alright? Um, okay. We're in Mr. Benedict's kitchen, we were eating breakfast. I had eggs, and you were making toast. We were up last night, looking at the stars. Do you remember that?"

Milligan's mind resounds with the name, the syllables and the familiar way it had slipped out reverberating: "Katie-Cat". Where did it come from? Where had he heard it? He must have heard it at some point, but he can't recall ever having known someone named Kate before. He had to have loved them very much to give them that nickname, he can feel it.

He blinks hard, and while the painful blankness clears from his vision, reality still feels a long way off. He's walking somewhere, outside; he can see puddles on the wet ground and feel the sun on his back. He's walking alongside... a pond. He knows this pond, but he can't place why.

Suddenly, the sound of splashing makes him look up. There's a girl, a tiny little girl in the water. She's swimming like a duck, beautifully, so he's not sure why an icy lance of fear struck his heart upon hearing her shrieks of laughter and mistaking them for fear.

A voice rumbles out of his chest, but there's an audible sense of joy and pride that makes it foreign to him. Distantly, he notes that words are being said, that he seems to be calling out to the girl. She flashes him a huge smile and makes her way to the bank, reaching it just as he arrives to scoop her up and toss her gently before reaching out to catch her again. She squeals and giggles as she flies through the air, as if she trusts completely that he's going to catch her when she comes back down.

He hoists her onto his shoulders, letting her lean comfortably against the back of his neck. She asks something, and though the words don't quite make it to his ears, Milligan knows that she's asking him if they can go back to the mill pond again. That's what it must be, a mill pond. He wonders for a brief second why he hadn't known that, before he hears himself responding to her question. And this time the words he says ring with a sharp clarity.

"Of course we can, Katie-Cat."

"— eagle, I think you said that it's called Aquila, but it's got the twelfth brightest star in the sky, which is still pretty neat, I think. You don't have to be the best at something to still be good at it and things and, um... That's all the star facts I can remember right now. Come on, Kate. Think of something else to say, you can't just trail off into silence now, Milligan needs you."

His eyes were closed, Milligan found, and while one of his hands is still clutching at the table, the other one has a smaller hand gently pressed into it, holding tight. He hears that same voice again, the one that had laughed and sounded so excited to see him and had asked if they could return to the mill pond with the most innocent trust he had ever heard in his life. It's older, now, having lost some of the high-pitched squeakiness of a toddler, and a bit more serious, as though it's been used to share too many secrets and too much pain in its still short life. There's a distinct sadness to it right now, and he can hear little gasps as the voice stutters through a recount of what had happened the over past week. Unconsciously, Milligan's brow wrinkles. No, he doesn't want this voice to be sad, he loves this voice, this is his—

"Kate."

His eyes snap open and he tilts his head to look at her. There are tears in the corners of her eyes, and when she sees him gazing at her steadily with recognition, they spill over and she begins crying in earnest.

"Okay, that's good. Uh, are you alright now?"

Her voice breaks, and he feels his heart tear open at the sound. Carefully, he reaches a hand out and cups the side of her face with extreme tenderness. At this, her expression crumples and she ducks forward, huddling against his chest and throwing her arms as far around him as they can reach. It takes him a moment, thoughts still cloudy from the most intense memory he had experienced since they started returning, but when he wraps her in as tight a hug as he can manage, his mind rights itself in a way that he feels has been wrong for years. This is where he belongs, with Kate safe in his arms. Nothing else matters.

"Oh, Katie-Cat. I'm so sorry it took me so long. I never would have left you if I had the choice."

Kate is breathing hard, pressed against his side. Her mind has been reeling since this all started. Some part of her wasn't surprised; some part of her recognised, the moment she met him, that Milligan was special. He called her that name and, a part of her, however small, responded as naturally as a heartbeat. But then his face had twisted, and that strange mist that arose when he couldn't remember where he was and he was in pain and she couldn't do anything about it covered his eyes, and she'd been scared. He'd never had a memory flash that caused him this much pain or lasted this long, and the longer it continued the more scared she was. Normally, she could just talk to him, tell him about what they'd been doing that day, and in a few minutes the mist would clear and he'd look at her and smile. Even when the smiles were tired and pinched at the edges from residual discomfort, she never admitted to herself what they meant to her. That the fact that Milligan took the time to send her a signal, however small, that he was okay, and he knew who she was and where they were, was immensely relieving.

Because, even though she barely acknowledged it, she was always terrified that one of these times, Milligan was going to leave and retreat to that place where his memories were locked away and he wouldn't come back. She would look into his eyes and he wouldn't know who she was, he wouldn't remember meeting her or rescuing her on the island or their time together after Curtain or anything. And she'd be alone. Again.

Those were the thoughts growing louder and louder in her mind as she tried desperately to remember what he had told her last night about the stars and shoved down that fear that it would be her last memory of them having real conversation. That was the reason she began stumbling and choking on her words, even as the tightness in Milligan's posture slowly bled out as the pain from his migraine seemed to die down, and she slipped her hand into his, willing the melancholy, one-sided facsimile of comfort to give her strength.

She's striving not to cry when Milligan says her name, finally opening his eyes and looking at her, and when she saw that he knew who she was, he still recognised her and remembered her, it was too much. The Great Kate Weather Machine, who infiltrated secret labs and helped destroy the Whisperer and kept her friends safe during their time at the Institute, never cried. She was too busy saving the day and being strong for those who needed her. Kate Wetherall, who, regardless of who Milligan was and what he called her, regardless of what he had just remembered and what he would eventually tell her, has just got her dad back, and she can't stop the tears from coming.

[toneelspeelster]

painted tongue by taylor byas

[megpricephotography]

Favourites from November walks with Barney & Flynn, in years gone by.

[themeraldee]

Can I get a wholesome little thingy of homie comforting his s/o that's like depressed what would he do? And give them snuggles? And although of course s/o giving homie headpats and caresses are top tier this time I want him to have to give headpats. Not because I'm depressed rn or anything (yes it is)

~1k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Established Relationship. Dealing with depression. Homelander's POV. Fluff. Just fluff really.

Something feels off when Homelander enters his penthouse. While he used to welcome the quiet of his home after he came back from events, this has recently changed. Ever since you’ve become a part of his life, any second spent without you feels like something’s missing. So it’s definitely out of order to get the same empty feeling when he's home. Usually you greet him with open arms or at least a ‘Welcome home’ shouted from another room.

“Babe?” Homelander calls out into the penthouse, the questioning tone reverberating through the open plan of his home. He knows you’re here. His question acts more as a reset, giving you a chance to play your role.

At your lack of response he quickly scans the room, seeing you in the bedroom. Very much awake but hidden under the sheets. So why wouldn’t you react to his presence? Shouldn’t that be something you look forward to?

You always do.

His mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Even with the overwhelming positive effect you’ve had on his life it’s easy to fall into insecurity and despair, worrying about the worst possible outcome.

Homelander stops himself from rushing into the bedroom. But the slow one step at a time sinks the weight in his gut lower and lower. The anxiety of something being wrong has thrown him off-kilter. He doesn’t really know how to approach you when you’re distant like this.

So his over the top bravado will have to do.

“Heyyyy there sleepy head! You know it’s waaayyy too late for a lie in, don't you think?” He waltzes into the bedroom, hands on his hips, acting as if he was addressing a crowd. His voice is loud and clear, carrying a jovial tone that sounds a little too insincere even to his ears. 

He doubles down anyway. “If I knew you were planning to spend the entire day in bed I would’ve never left.” But, you don’t respond. He can hear your heartbeat, the slight rustle of the sheets and even the thud and glide of your finger scrolling down your phone screen.

When the silence gets too awkward for him to bear he peels the blanket from over your head, revealing you down to your waist. Immediately you squirm at the light coming from the outside after having your den of doom broken into.

Over the time that your love has blossomed into a relationship he’s gotten used to receiving comfort from you. You were there to listen to his countless rants and concerns. From the simple work related complaints to the horrors plaguing his nightmares. 

He should be able to do the same for you, right?

“Hmm… I’m just resting.” You sound dejected, empty. 

He swallows at the sound of you being so different. You’re missing the light that usually fills out the dark space in him. Homelander doesn’t know how to approach you. When’s the last time he’s had to comfort anyone? Truly comfort someone. Has anyone ever asked or even trusted him to be there for them?

Whether you’ve asked or not, he needs to be there for you.

It’s the least you deserve.

“Yeah right.”

He unzips his boots, setting them neatly next to each other before sliding under the sheets right behind you. He hooks his arm over you, pulling your back into his chest. And although you’re not reciprocal to his affection like you usually would be, the warmth he feels is enough to ease the anxiety in his gut.

He wedges his head in between your head and shoulder, watching with you as you mindlessly scroll through social media.

“How long have you been doom scrolling now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly against your shoulder.

 “I don’t know. A while I guess.” While you squirm in his hold your tone is still just as impenetrable.

“You’re not even looking at the screen!” When you don’t even react he frowns. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” He plucks your phone from your hands, turning and placing it on the bedside table away from you. He acts as a barrier between it and you, giving you no chance of getting it back. He rolls over back to you, greeted with the sight of you facing him.

Instantly he pulls you into him, both arms tightly around you with heavy comfort. It’s what he would’ve wanted in times of despair. It’s what you do when he seeks comfort. The whole body embrace where all he can focus on is you. It always grounds him.

He hopes it has a similar effect on you.

“What’s wrong?” He says. This time in a soft, low voice. No longer trying to put on a show. He’s meant to be there for you, not for a crowd.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it… Or if I even want to…” While you don’t sound like yourself, part of him is glad to hear your sadness. It’s better than the dejected empty voice. The closer you are to revealing your true sorrows the closer he is to getting you to feel better.

“Okay. You can… I don’t know, at least try to tell me something about what’s going on. Orrr, I will be reciting all of the amendments to the Constitution of the United States.” He’s gambling with the teasing tone of his voice but it pays off when you groan and giggle.

“Oh god no, not again!” 

“Welp, it’s your choice.” By now he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. He gives you a soft squeeze.

“Alright, I can try.” You concede with a calm defeat.

“Good. That’s a start.” He kisses the top of your head, still holding and caressing you.

But most importantly, actually listening to you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[ebongawk]

the first time chrissy breaks smth at the trailer, maybe one of wayne’s mugs or smth, she’s spiraling like it’s the end of the world while eddie is like ???? baby things break all the time is this what living at the cunninghams is like

Crash!

Eddie jumped to his feet, snuffing his half-smoked cigarette and tripping over their hastily discarded clothes to grab boxers and rush toward the kitchen. Chrissy had just gotten up, pulling on his t-shirt with a shy smile over her shoulder after saying she wanted a glass of water. Eddie offered to get it (especially since her knees didn't seem to, uh, want to work properly, not that he was being particularly smug about that) but Chrissy insisted that she needed to stretch her legs.

Swinging around the doorway to the kitchen, he found Chrissy standing in the middle of the floor surrounded by tiny shrapnel shards of a mug. Sharp little landmines just waiting to dig into unsuspecting toes.

"Ah, shit," Eddie breathed, trying to assess the best path to her. "Don't–– Don't move, sweetness, one second, let me––"

He rushed into the living room before she could respond, yanking his Reeboks on and nearly falling on his ass when he tried to jump up too quickly. Laughing at himself, he walked back into the kitchen, trying to avoid the bulk of the ceramic and cringing at every slight crunch under his soles. Chrissy hadn't moved, her eyes down like she, too, was searching for a pathway among the mess.

"Alright, uh, just––" He hoisted her easily into his arms, protecting her bare feet by carrying her like Princess Buttercup through the fire swamp. Depositing her in the hallway, Eddie ducked past her, grabbing the broom and dustpan from the pantry. "Lemme clean this up, alright? You can, uh, go back to the bedroom if you want? I'll bring you some water."

Chrissy didn't look at him. She kept her eyes down, and Eddie followed her gaze, searching her skin for any small cuts he hadn't noticed.

"Fuck, baby, you alright?" he asked, crouching down by her legs, rapt eyes searching for specks of blood. He carefully lifted one foot, making sure her heel was intact before setting it down and inspecting the other. He looked up at her, wrapping his hands loosely around her knees. "Are you hurt?"

Chrissy still wasn't looking at him when she shook her head. Eyes shut tight, head turned resolutely away from him as Eddie slowly rose to standing. His palms climbed from her knees to her hips to her waist on the way up, and he squeezed gently.

"C'mon," he said softly, not quite understanding what was happening but hoping he sounded reassuring. Urging her back a step, he eased her into turning toward his bedroom. "Go sit, yeah? I'll be back in a minute."

Still silent, Chrissy turned and practically ran back into the bedroom. Eddie blinked after her for a moment before turning to the task at hand, grabbing the broom and carefully sweeping up the debris. Making sure to get all the corners under the cabinets to avoid any later mishaps.

He threw the pieces into a paper food bag before throwing them in the garbage to hopefully prevent anything from piercing the plastic. Smacking his shoes a couple of times over the can, he tossed those aside before grabbing another mug of water and walking back into his bedroom to see if Chrissy was okay.

She was dressed in her own clothes, quietly gathering up her belongings and folding them back into her overnight bag. Eddie stopped, feeling his heart seize in his chest. Ice slithered up his back, cold tendrils like fingers wrapping around his spine and holding him in place for a long, breathless moment.

Was she leaving?

"Chrissy?"

Back to him, Chrissy froze, her makeup bag hovered over her backpack.

"I'll, um," she began, her voice thick. Clearing her throat a little, she tried again. "I can, um, drop some money off for the mug later."

What?

"What?" Eddie asked, trying to shake off the glaciers wrapped around his ankles with a cautious step toward her. "Why would you do that? Baby, it's just a mug. Dunno if you noticed but, uh, Wayne has about a million of them."

"But I––" Her voice was heavy with tears. Whirling around, Chrissy dropped the makeup bag in her hand to the floor, looking up at Eddie for the first time as tears spilled down her cheeks. "But I broke it, Eddie. I was careless and I dropped it. I-I didn't mean to, I swear, I just––"

"Whoa, hey, hey." Breaking out of his hesitation, Eddie crossed the room, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands and wiping her tears away. She met his gaze, her big blue eyes swimming. A storm settling over the ocean. "Sweetness, it's okay. It's just a mug. I'm just happy you're not hurt, alright?"

"B-B-But you even offered to get it, and––"

"And it doesn't matter," he insisted, ducking to grab her attention when her eyes wandered away in shame. "I couldn't give less of a fuck about a broken mug if I tried, okay? It's just a mug."

Collapsing against his chest, Chrissy took in a hitched breath and let out a great sob. Eddie held her close, letting her cry her upset into his bare skin. One hand wrapped around her waist and the other buried in her hair. She clutched at him, fingers digging into his back like she was terrified he was going to change his mind and decide he was angry.

What in the fuck went on at the Cunningham household that would make her respond like this?

After about a minute, her cries quieted, though her shoulders still trembled against him. Eddie kissed her temple, lips tracking down to her cheek before he pulled back far enough to wipe the remainder of her tears away.

"Will Wayne be mad?" she asked, her voice small and her eyes so terribly scared.

"Nah," Eddie reassured her. "Wayne probably won't even notice it's missing."

Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. Her face crumpled, eyes filling all over again.

"We have to tell him!" Chrissy cried. "W-We can't hide it, Eddie, what if he finds out and gets even more mad––"

"Hey," Eddie cooed softly, trying to keep his voice from quavering with the anger that suddenly surged. Not at her, of course, never at her, but what the fuck was wrong with her family? "We'll tell him, yeah? But I swear, baby, he's not gonna be mad. It's just a thing." Gently urging her chin back, Eddie looked her directly in the eye when he said, "Things break all the time. That's a fact of, like, general product ownership."

"But," Chrissy whispered, falling back into his chest. "But what about the set?"

"Uh. What?"

"The set. The set of mugs. It'll be incomplete now." She looked at him again. "Do you know where I can buy a replacement?"

Eddie blinked at her. "I'm, uh, pretty sure that was, like, a novelty mug he got at a truck stop. It's not part of a set."

Her bottom lip warbled. "So it was important to him? A memory?"

"God, Chrissy, no," Eddie couldn't help it – he had to laugh a little. Gently, he eased her down onto the bed, sitting beside her and pulling her halfway across his lap. "And even if it was? It's not important enough to throw a fit over if it gets broken. It's just stuff, baby, they're just things." He shook his head, resting his chin on her crown when she snuggled into him. "You can't own stuff without expecting to lose or break it, that's not how accidents work. I've broken probably two dozen mugs in my lifetime."

Her voice was so, so incredibly small when she asked, "So you don't want me to leave?"

"Baby, you can stay the rest of your life if you want," Eddie vowed, his voice laced in jest but meaning every goddamn word. "Or, y'know, just until we get the hell out of this town."

He felt the slight curl of her smile where her cheek was pressed over his heart. Wondering if she could hear the new uptick through the wall of his chest.

"I-I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to yell at me."

Taking a slow, deep breath, Eddie closed his eyes to keep from cussing out the phantom of Chrissy's mother that seemed to have its claws stuck into Chrissy's brain.

"Listen, I am never going to yell at you," Eddie promised. Letting his fingertips drift up and down the length of her spine. Giving her hip a soft squeeze with every pass. "And if I do? You have my express permission to hit me."

"Eddie––"

"I can't promise I won't like it, though."

"God," she snorted, falling into a fit of giggles. After a moment, she let out a deep breath, the warmth of her anxieties bleeding across his skin as she exhaled them from her bones. "Thank you for being so good, Eddie."

His scalp prickled in pleasure at her compliment. Forehead falling against her crown, Eddie took his own shaky breath in, slowly breathing out as he pulled her even closer.

"Shit, sweetness, for you? Anything."

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

wanted to try my hand at a fake screenshot thing with a scene from one of the bttf fics of all time, Time Is a Flat Circle by @fourth-dimensional-thinker! i set in to draw only the "little canary" line but. as you can tell. my hand slipped and fell down a 6 story building

if you haven't read it already please check it out PLEASEEE it's very good. i read the whole thing in basically one sitting. the vibes are perfect for the spooky season too!

versions without the filter/subtitles under the cut:

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Well, ig it's time for me to talk about one of my favorite lores and streamers at this point.

Fit MC of 2B2T and his tragedy.

Honestly, when I watched the launch of QSMP I was full on Philza watcher. I never knew Fit before, but I was charmed by his voice, humor and friendship with crow father. And honestly I never even expected any lore from him, so when his first lore stream happened I was pleasantly surprised! So, I really want to express how much I love Fit's lore. It's not in your face and has a lot of subtle hints and build up. Honestly, it's not an essay but rather an expression of true admiration of masterful story telling in form of incoherent ramblings.

(I'll try to compose it, but I can't promise it'll always be coherent)

So let's start with quick review of his lore. FitMC of 2B2T is, evidently from the oldest anachy server. It's described as wasteland, where you can't trust or be trusted. Once he was approached by a person, whom Fit can't remember. It was a contractor who sent our favorite war criminal to the Qsmp with a mission to steal player data. Everything up from there is in vods.

Well, it is a great start, isn't it? At this point we have a very sad start. Practically no trust and emotional connection to anything. The eternal destruction, explosions, deaths and betrayals don't teach you anything different. So once he came to the server, I imagine, Fit didn't care about anything but mission. Player data and that's all, but right from the start this mindset started to change because of the greatest misfortunes of any mercenary or a 2b2t player. Emotional connection.

So now let me break this up into some sections.

Philza: you really thought I won't bring him up? As a greatest (platonic) Fitza/Wallflower duo enjoyer or just a Phil watcher, I couldn't leave him out of this post. I really think that Fit's learning started with crow father. From the start we know that they're at least are acquaintances. But throughout all this months they grew into something more. Philza's trust is hard to get, but if you get it this'll be worth it. Yet Fit got it. Throughout the good old days of Qsmp, when everything was easier, Fitza always were together. No matter was it a life threat or a camping trip with kids, they're with each other. Trusting to each other enough to letting each other in eggs' homes. And after feces hit the fan, it didn't change. A person, who was taught to never trust a soul and to survive no matter what, was standing there, saying "I'm with you, Phil" In the midst of attack. The trust between them is just incomprehensible. A paranoid hardcore survivor and a war criminal, with a lot of secrets and separetion anxiety, became best friends. If anything goes South for Phil, Fit'll be spying, controlling situation. If a wise crow ever starts loosing his sense of reality, this soaked in blood hand will lay on his shoulder, reassuringly. And it isn't one sided. If Fit needs anything Philza instantly passes him it ("You're too good to me"). Phil shares everything he can with Fit and even trusted the Dream to him. And Fit even had a small separation anxiety attack, just cuz Phil was gone for a few seconds. They are so close, Fit even considered letting in Phil on his purpose, Aaaaah... They're gonna be the death of me. Philza learned Fit friendship/ platonic love.

"You [Phil] and I [Fit].... We walk into churches and they burn just by our presence."

Ramon: the baby boy made in heaven by God himself. There's so much to be said here. Once again, coming into the island, Fit never expected to connect with someone, especially to have a son. After having a rocky relationship with Spreen was left one on one with a child. The absurdity of situation is just as laughable, as ironic. A man, who's hobby was killing kids with no back thought, was now stuck with a child, having no idea of how to raise him. And, honestly, he did pretty good! He gave Ramon freedom, but always was here, close enough to help if needed. Of course he wasn't the saint, yet he always tried to be as honest as he could, even letting him on the "Family secret". Ramon loves his dad, and it's obvious by how he helps Fit with his job, building him a communication with his contractor. The little one even taught this cold person to be kinder and more open. They only have each other. And Fit is ready to do anything if it means he'd get to leave with his baby boy by his side. Also I don't wanna hear a scrap about 2b2t historian not caring about his son's disappearance. He does. After behaving and distancing himself from his past antics, he decided to burn the ship, where Ramon lost his first life, just to avenge his baby. He visits his sons house every stream, looking if maybe he came back. If you want any prove of how much they care about each other search Ramon's graduation. They made each other better and their love is just aaahhh. I love them. Ramon taught Fit parental love.

"Baby boy, made in heaven, by God himself.."

PacTW: the last, but not least, Pacman himself. Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy.... Now, I haven't watched a lot of their interactions, but from all I've seen they're suuuuper in love/crush. All those little glances to each other, protection, quality time... Honestly, I think these two videos explain everything. They trust each other and at least have a crush on each other. And once again, there're a lot of small moments that prove this point. Fit having a small panic attack over not seeing pac for a few seconds and even helping to find Walter Bob and Mike. And Pac, no matter how much he loves Mike, didn't drop Fit after the latter was accused of being a traitor. Love is blooming, and even though it's "baby steps" These are still steps. It takes a lot to relearn trust and especially this kind of intimacy, when all you knew before was war, betrayal and lie. And thus Pac taught him love and trust.( I'm not big on shipping but every time hide duo hug my life gets a little better).

"Baby steps, chat. Baby steps. (Puts roses Pac gifted him)"

But, why did I call Fit and his fate tragic, and then just list all the good interactions Qsmp gave him. After all he experienced at 2b2t , this island seems like a heaven. But, Fit was, is, and forever will be stranger at the paradise (this man is way too good at presenting lore. Even music gives us soo much things to think about... I love it.). No matter how much Fit loves people around him and feels this being reciprocated, he'll never have this full closure. He knows and believes that once everyone knew his mission, they'll hate him. Even people I listed before. He'll never be fully honest with anyone (apart from Ramon), and no matter how people love him. Fit truly feels for Baghera, when she told him about her past and her fear of telling it to BBH. It is literally what he struggles with. This dialogue has a lot of good foils and parallels. The fear of their past, full trust/ forced lie, darkness/ light, and eventually positive outlook. Baghera was eventually able to trust Bad with her secret, yet Fit wasn't. But this paradise spoiled this war criminal. It made him more trusting, more social. Fit can't now be alone, cuz he connected with people. This server, though is full of secrets, lies and danger, is still a paradise. A heaven on earth for a lonely man...

So the last part of this long ahh post is about his desire. The one thing that convinced Fit to go to qsmp. Freedom. Which he doesn't have. By making this deal with Contractor he fell into the trap. He must to find this player data, or else he'll return to the world he tried to escape. For forever. With no way out. But once he came to the server, Cucurucho will never let him go. So he's now in double trap. Yet the biggest trap is Ramon. He's prepared to sacrifice everything for his baby boy, and can't leave the island without him. And without Ramon Fit wouldn't be able to contact the contractor. So in creating connections, Fit traps himself further.

I can't really call it a character analysis, but it's all I see in Fit's lore. A very lonely war criminal, that got so tired of distrust and destruction, that he agreed on a spy mission. But once his mission started he learned how to love and care, that he trapped himself further. Love isn't a miracle that saves you, but it's a very useful tool. Once you learn to understand and reciprocate it, life may become better. (Sorry, it's super cheesy, but I think it encompasses Fits character very good) .

Fit is a spy. They're not supposed to have a family and love, because they can't stay for long. And I think at first, Fit saw everything and everyone as just a means to an end. Just the player data. But after all that has passed he can't be the same. He has a son, friends and a possible love interest. Will he be able to still continue his mission? Will he still betray them and they're trust? I don't know.

But I now I love how cc! Fit does his lore. It isn't so in the face and doesn't affects other, yet it is so layered. Everything is so important down to the music choice aaaaagh. I don't even pretend to analyse everything in his lore like contractor, memory loss, head aches and ect.

I just love it. It's marvelous.

[yourlowkeyidiot3]

Salty rant v2

This is basically me angrily screaming about Ford again (wow what a surprise) to a wall (myself, my rotten brain and my blog) so feel free to skip this

Fuck it I'll bite

Gf fans when you tell them Ford had every right to be mad at Stan for ruining his Project (he saw it as the only chance to prove himself and get accepted in his dream school, and even tho WE know it was an accident, Ford doesn't he thinks it was a purpose sabotage and it really doesn't help that Stan didn't told him which resulted in him making a fool of himself Infront of ppl he wanted to impress and then Stan tried to pass it off as something that didn't matter even tho it mattered so much to Ford, like of course he'd be mad everyone would be mad in his position)

Gf fans when you tell them it's not Ford's fault that Stan got kicked out it's all Filbricks fault (seriously guys, blame the fucking abusive father, not the 17 year old living in an abusive household)

Gf fans when you tell them standing up against an abusive person (especially if they're your parent) is hard to do for yourself let alone for someone else

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wasn't the "golden/favourite child" Filbrick dgaf about him and only wanted to use his intelligence for money and both Ford and Stan were abused just in different ways (seriously find a different dynamic to describe an abusive household than "golden child" and "scapegoat" I say as I put a gun in your head)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wanting to go to college isn't egotistical

Gf fans when you tell them Ford wanting to make a name for himself doesn't make him egotistical (he literally grew up in an abusive household, and was bullied and treated like an outcast for most of his life, him seeking out validation is a trauma response not egotism)

Gf fans when you tell them if Ford is petty for correcting Stan's grammar then Stan is equally as petty for refusing to hold his hand over a thank you literally seconds ago (of course he had the right to want him to thank him and be mad, but it was the END OF THE WORLD, they are both responsible in that scene)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford isn't ignorant for being manipulated by Bill cuz 1) Bill is a master manipulator who's managed to manipulate and terrorise humanity since forever using lies/flattery/fear 2) despite having a high IQ he has a low EQ and therefore isn't able to tell if someone has ill intentions due to being....an outcast and therefore doesn't have the social skills to be able to tell others true intentions/manipulations which made him an easy victim for Bill (do u guys even know what manipulation means)

Gf fand when you tell them the reason why Ford didn't try to reach out to Stan was because he thought he was doing fine since he had seen an ad of his on tv (he had no way of knowing Stan was still homeless anymore, and you don't usually see homeless people's ads on tv), not because he didn't care

Gf fans when you tell them Ford didn't force Fiddleford to do shit for him, and that he was against the use of the memory gun and wanted him to get rid of it but Fiddleford literally erased his memories of it so he could continue using it. And that therefore Ford isn't to blame for everything that happened with the memory gun just cuz Fiddleford had bad coping mechanisms. (Seriously you all are acting as if he pointed the memory gun on his head and forced him to abandon his family and build him the portal. No!! Fiddleford made those decisions himself he could had left Gravity Falls at any moment and return to his family but no he didn't, he chosed to stay and start a fucking cult. That is on him. Not on Ford)

Gf fans when you tell them the way Ford acted during the time where he was literally being abused, manipulated and isolated by a demon is way more complex and naused than "ego! ego!".. because he was literally being abused and manipulated...

Gf fans when you tell them the reason why Ford called Stan to hide his journals wasn't because he only wanted to use him as a way to fix his mistakes but because he was literally really desperate and feared for the safety of the world and he didn't have anyone else he could trust and that he was hella traumatized due to being literally tortured both physically and phycological and sleep deprived and on the bring of insanity (of fucking course he wasn't gonna act logically and say mean shit he didn't actually mean, he was losing his mind! Stan had also said mean shit to him because he was angry but nobody talks about that)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford being mad at Stan for opening the portal is understandable, because 1) he literally ignored all the warnings that the portal could potentially destroy the whole world and 2) he was literally about to FINALLY killing Bill after 30 years of fighting for his life in the multiverse to try and find a way to

Gf fans when you tell them Ford's trust issues are completely understandable because he was literally betrayed, manipulated and abused by the "person" he trusted the most (Bill). And the other two people he trusted did something that hurt his trust on him (Fiddleford erasing his memories, Stan ruining his project)

Gf fans when you tell them Ford's and Bill's relationship isn't "toxic yaoi/messy divorce!" And that it was incredible abusive and that FORD was a victim ( average gf fan claims they "don't romantize/support the toxic ((call it abusive guys, that's literally what it is)) elements of this ship I just like to explore unhealthy dynamics in fiction:) *proceeds to make 10 posts of "he fucked the triangle!" jokes and gets mad at you if you actually point out the abuse and makes 100 aus where they get back together/stay together*

Gf fans when I tell them that I really don't care about what Alex has said about Ford being "egotistical" or "ignorant" because that's also the same guy who said he didn't intended for Pacifica to come off as a victim of abuse because controlling your child with a bell is total normal parent behaviour guys (/s). (I stopped listening to most of the stuff he said after that, not gonna lie, cuz most of the stuff he says about Ford's "ego" and "ignorance" are flat out victim blaming) ((I mean come on guys, he literally says he based Ford's and Bill's relationship off REAL LIFE toxic relationships he's seen and then he goes and says shit like how it's Ford's own "ego and ignorance" fault that he's ended up in that situation. Don't you guys think that's a bit weird))

[hawkstincan]

after four years of struggling I finally… not satisfied, but can stop thinking about this one (I wanna sit in the corner and cry from just thinking of trying coloring. so. nope. maybe one day, but not in the near future) I started it after Captain Gwyneth shared their thoughts about mer!Len & human!Barry au in coldflash trash server... and i was circling back to it all these years. at first Len had shark-ish tail… and i have no idea WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENNED AND HOW HE GET THIS SHIT INSTEAD. it just. happened

special thanks to @sh-haashi and @holycafe <3 i don't think i'd get this far without you

[no-thoughts-at-all]

as i was reading about Revachol being bombed with nuclear weapons, I almost cried like it was my hometown getting destroyed I was devastated.

And then I remembered the dialogue with La Revacholière and the way she was scared of being bombed and asked Harry to help her, and it made me feel even worse. Has he tried to do something to prevent the bombing? What did he feel when he realized this was inevitable seconds before his own death?

Also, the way Kim wished to live long enough to see 70, but he was only 64 in the year '72 when Revachol and all of its residents died. Died as the casualties, just like Kim's patents probably did.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I keep thinking that this Gojo is just like Sukuna. I truly don't see much of a difference between them beyond the human/curse point of view

[recurring-polynya]

diamond dust rebellion end credits, there was no need to rub it in like this

[jmkho]

Introducing Jake! Poke his jummy to make him speak!

[annoying-leaf]

I kinda feel uhhh insecure ab posting my undertale au OCs, especially if they are just humans with colorful hair lol

Glitchtale had a big impact on me lmao, but COLORFUL HAIR LOOKS COOL!!!!! THEY HAVE MAGIC!!!!!! AND THEY HAVE COLORFUL HAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mothsakura]

Hi. I saw ur iterators and they look cool i wanna know the lore(tm)

OOO YES YES! Imma ramble about off the string au too, so putting the explanation of the au before oc lore, if you want to hear just about the oc, feel free to skip the off the string hcs! (note: a lot of my oc lore is rather long, and hard to type out in one go, i will most likely be typing up about an oc with shorter lore)

So first; how does off-the-string work in my au/hcs:

The consciousness and subconsciousness are evenly spread out throughout all of the iterator's systems and mechanisms! Usually the puppet is just used for communication, and to express the iterator's personality. Without the puppet it would be rather difficult to communicate. Now you see: the puppet can be detached from it's mechanical arm, this is most often done in maintenance or during really fancy ceremonies. To go off the string, you need to put your whole consciousness into your puppet, and then detach it from the mechanical arm. The structure would still be up and performing vital functions, however would be in a "sleep" state. You can still vaguely feel your structure if you are off the string.

Although this sounds easy, it really isn't. Since the iterator as a whole is HUGE, they'd need some time to adapt to the limitations of the puppet. They are now on the same level as an ancient, or the animals that walk beneath their structure, which can be rather difficult to adjust to if you're used to being a mechanical god. (think of it like putting all your consciousness into the tip of your finger, you're so so much smaller and vulnerable now) Note: the iterator is also now hyper-aware of their puppet since all of their consciousness, and thus attention, is in their puppet (instead of being spread out like in the structure). (Also another small note I am unsure of where to put: in my hcs, the iterators sort of have a connection to their neurons similar to bluetooth, which means that if the structure is still standing, they do not need to take their neurons along while going off the string, as they'd already have that long distance connection to the neurons) If a disconnection is done right, it is 100% reversible! Just attach the puppet back to it's mechanical arm, and everything would be just like before the iterator detached it's puppet. However if an iterator disconnected improperly, it will be rather difficult to spread their consciousness back through their structure. Also if you die off the string, your consciousness will simply go back to your structure, and you'd need to make yourself a new puppet.

As for why an iterator would need to go off the string:

Many many reasons, some iterators are just curious, others want to see if they can ascend (any void related death will cause ascension for ancients and biological organisms. Several iterators have tried to test if they'd ascend by losing their puppet to the void sea.), and some have been falsely advertised to. Not too long after Sliver's ascension, there was an event labeled the "Disconnection Obsession", where iterators would go off the string to test the aforementioned theory. However there was also a rise of false advertising, with off the string being painted as a vacation or a new solution, and of course you'd want a vacation after some real boring work. Unfortunately off the string is far from a vacation...

Onto OC lore:

I'll be talking about CV! As it's lore is currently one of the only things thats on my mind, and that I can coherently tell through one ramble. Following the disconnection obsession event, CV had gone off the string to test out if the theory of losing your puppet to the void sea will ascend an iterator (probably not be at least CV is being hopeful). Or well, it more so thought it needed to test out this theory. Unfortunately CV was brainwashed by it's council to have the extremist ascensionist views of the world. Deep down it never really had any interest in ascension, it had more interest in archiving religious history to be honest. So CV went off the string with it's neighbors (Visions of Issues Unforeseen, Grim Speculations), and originally it planned to go to the void sea, but overtime it wanted to stay with it's neighbors more (who it became rather good friends with). I nicknamed the trio "The half-group", since originally they were a separate group from DAWNS_ABOUND, before the two groups merged for political allyship back when the ancients were around. Putting this map here as well! The two collapsed iterators near the half-group are early prototypes, who collapsed even before GS (oldest of the half-group, the second model of gen 2 ever made) was built. Early prototypes never really have a long lifespan unfortunately.

Thats about it for now!