#i like how i can just come here make my little zero note post where i just freak out about gay media news years before they ever come out

[gregorycddie]

AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!! kelly and lily??? lily getting another lead role post-oscars???? wedding banquet but girls??? by the director of fire island???!!!!! we are about to eat so good

[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 1

Source for the pic

Firestarter 1

Word Count: 3056

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : Below the summary is the masterlist. I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Here's the first chapter of Ace's story. I've been having a blast writing this, I do hope you enjoy it as well. If you want to be tagged when I post a new chapter, let me know! Also, don't be shy, I'd love to read about your thoughts! Thank you! ❤️

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Next Chapter

After lunch you take another quick stroll through town and ask around for some part-time jobs, but nothing’s available so you return to your car, ready to go home and hoping Nami and Robin can help you find that job, like they promise they would. 

But the car doesn't start. 

You try to do what your father said, as silly and idiotic as it may seem. You pet the dash of the car and the steering wheel and coo at them in a soothing voice. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You're going to work for me now, aren't you? You're a pretty little girl, aren't you?” 

Rolling your eyes and inhaling deeply, you turn the key again and the engine sputters and chokes almost catching but it doesn't and you grunt. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes alternating between spewing pretty words at the car and shouting ugly insults, but the car is dead. Finally you give up and call your dad. 

“Dad, the stupid car won't start!” you whine like a teenager, not caring because you're annoyed and upset. 

“Have you tried-...”

“Yes!” You interrupt. “I've tried everything! I've tried being nice and petting it, and I've tried being mean and hitting it. None of it is working!”

You hear Ace's loud guffaws in the background and instantly blush. “One of those options usually gets me started!” He shouts and you ignore him. You hadn't realised you were on speaker. Shanks starts to go into detail about what you should do but you just sigh in exasperation. 

“Can you come help me, dad? Please?” You add another little whine to your voice because that might do the trick. He sighs on the other end and concedes so you tell him exactly where you are parked. 

You still try to get the car to work while you wait, but it only makes you more and more frustrated. On your last attempt, you make the engine overheat and smoke billows everywhere, so you get out of the car, open the hood and wave your hands around to disperse the smoke. 

The smell of burnt oil and smoke is overpowering, and you are soon assaulted by a coughing fit before the cloud dissipates and you manage to take a look inside. Supporting  your weight on your hands, you lean inside, certain that you can find whatever is wrong with it despite having zero knowledge of mechanics. You have absolutely no idea what you are looking for. 

“Princess, you wanna kill me?” Ace's voice is deeper than you've ever heard it, and he manages to surprise you enough to elicit a small gasp. 

“Ace!”

He's leaning against the hood of his jeep, legs crossed, a hand on his chest and a smirk on his lips as his eyes drink you in. At least he has a shirt on for once, which is a first since your reencounter. “You can't lean like that while wearing a tiny dress.” He emphasises with hand gestures so you get his point. “Someone might see more than you intended.” His smirk grows. 

Your eyes pierce his without any hint of amusement. “Are you saying that you saw my butt, Mr. Someone?”

His laugh bubbles up in a sweet sound as his freckles dance along with the vibrations and you have to force yourself not to get dragged along into laughter as well. 

“I'm not saying that. I just don't want someone else to see it.” You can't control the small blush that fills your cheeks with embarrassment. The way Ace manages to make you flustered is almost infuriating. 

“Where's my dad?” You ask, deadpan. 

“Couldn't make it.”

“Meaning?” You are proudly becoming Ace-fluent and understanding that everything he says has a double meaning. 

“I volunteered.”

“That's what I thought.” You sigh and he laughs. “Can you actually help?”

He moves away from his jeep and approaches you, supporting one hand on the hood and the other on his hip while casually glancing over the engine. “That's totally fried.” He points at the engine and shakes his head. “You'll need to come with me.” With another languid smirk he points at his jeep. 

“You're bullshitting.”

“I resent that.” His hurt-boy act almost convinces you. 

“No you don't!” 

“I don't. I just like to see you mad at me.” 

You huff and place both hands on your hips while glaring at him. “Be serious, Ace!”

He sighs and this time actually leans properly into the hood, starting to mess with some parts. You have no idea if he's just touching things for the sake of it or if he actually knows what he's doing. 

“I know what I'm doing.” Is he a mind reader? “I help Franky at the firehouse all the time. He's the mechanic, but I know a few basics.”

“Firehouse?”

“Yeah, I'm a firefighter!” He exclaims as if it's something you should've known by now. 

“I didn’t know that.”

“Luffy works with me there as well. It’s hardly a job when we have as much fun as we do.” He chuckles softly. “I guess we’re lucky firefighters since there are barely any accidents where people get hurt. It’s mostly forest fires or small car accidents.”

You nod. “The perks of a small town.” You mumble as you lean closer to see what he’s doing and your shoulders bump and brush together. He’s warm and taut but you focus your eyes on his hands, paying no mind to your closeness. You notice that he’s screwing some oily nuts. He uses just the tip of his middle finger to turn the nuts, and the precision with which he does so is insane.

And he smells nice. How can he smell so good if he’s been working with your father all morning? He smells like…  nature! Some sort of sandalwood or cedarwood with a fresh hint of pine. It’s intoxicating and you try to breathe as little as possible near him.  

“Yeah, and that’s why I have time to help your dad and learn new stuff. Franky’s the genius mechanic, but I’ve got a few tricks.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, but you don’t look at him.

You're still distracted by the nuts and the amount of oil making his fingers glisten as he twirls them. You’re not usually a very carnal girl, but Ace does things to you and your body. Uncontrollable things. Inadvertently, you wet your lower lip and let it catch between your teeth, humming at his answer, or at his actions, you can't quite tell, except that hum sounded quite close to a low grunt. “That's… interesting.” 

Wow. Awesome brain power. You almost kick yourself for that but he immediately catches on and stops his motions, his eyes looking at you hungrily as they pause on your lips and the way you're biting them. Then travel up to your eyes and it’s almost as if he leans into you, like magnets being pulled close together. So close. 

“You alright there, princess?” He exhales sultrily as his warm breath tingles near your face, and you gasp, coming out of your bliss and scratching your head with nervousness. 

“Yes, yes. I'm fine.” You train your eyes back on the car’s insides. “So, is it overheating?”

“Damn right it is.” He mumbles making you look up once more and his eyes never leave your lips. Your breath catches as you pull away from the hood to gain some distance from him. 

But as you do, you take a step back towards the open road, just as a car is going by. 

“Watch it!” He yelps as his oily hand grasps your forearm with a strong grip, that’s sure to bruise, and he pulls you towards him making you collide with his chest with a sound oomph. “That was freaking close!”

Your heart is banging against your chest in an insane rhythm, the adrenaline of almost being hit by a car making you tremble and gasp for air. Ace’s hand is still gripping your forearm tightly and it’s starting to hurt but you can’t seem to find your voice. 

“Drive slower, asshole! You’re in the city” He screams at the car, his other hand wrapping protectively around you and settling on your head, pulling you flush against him. It’s a weird dichotomy, this feeling. One hand holds you tightly with a deathly vice while the other protects and soothes you with a soft caress.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent - that strong wooden scent - trying to ground yourself and will your heart to calm down. 

“Are you alright?” He mutters your name softly, trying to shake you out of your slight shock. 

Nodding fervently you pull back, away from his warmth and his intoxicating scent. You find your voice and force it out with a shaky breath. “You’re hurting me, Ace.”

He eyes you quizzically for a moment before realising he’s still holding your arm as if you’re about to be taken away from him. His grip relaxes instantly and he raises his hands releasing a string of apologies. 

“Ah, crap, sorry. I didn’t realise I was still holding you that tightly.”

Your arm hurts and will definitely bruise, but you don’t want him to feel bad about saving you, so you give it a quick massage and dismiss the subject with a smile. “Thank you, Ace. That was quick thinking.”

His face seems deadly serious and you had yet to witness this side of him. “It shouldn’t have to be necessary. The asshole was driving way out of limits. I should’ve gotten his plate number to give to Zoro.” He sighs as his eyes leave the road and finally settle back on you. “You sure you’re alright?”

The slight edge of his voice makes you realise he was also scared, despite not showing it, and you are deeply grateful. “I really am.”

“Oh, shit. I smeared oil all over your arm, hang on.” You look at the arm he was gripping and it is, indeed, covered in greasy oil that transferred from his hand, but you’re fine with it, you’re about to go home, anyway. Yet Ace doesn’t relent, he seems to be looking for a rag or something to wipe your arm with.

“I think I have some wipes in-... no, Ace! That’s not necessary!” But you’re too late. Off with the shirt he goes and now you start to think that he might be allergic to any kind of shirt since he’s always so keen on having his torso bare. 

“I’ll clean you up in a second.” He uses his shirt to wipe your arm and you sigh, knowing full well that this is a useless fight and you can’t win, so you just let him do his thing. 

A string of giggles and high-pitched squeals makes you turn your head to the sidewalk. Sure enough there are two girls giggling in each other’s arms, ogling Ace’s form and you frown.

“Hiiiiii, Ace!” They say in unison, their voices hitting a note that would’ve been able to shatter the finest of crystal glasses. 

Ace’s job is thorough, though, and he only turns when there’s no trace of oil on your arm. But when he does turn, it’s with a cheeky smirk and a tip of his hat. “Hello, ladies!” He leans his hand back into the hood of the car so he can give his full attention to them.

They giggle some more and you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Pathetic.” Mumbling curses between your teeth, you close the hood with vigour, making Ace yelp because you almost caught his hand in the process. “Sorry.” You scorn, not sorry at all. 

Then you reach inside and take out your purse and car keys, locking it in the process, and walk towards Ace’s jeep.

“Let’s just go.” You state coldly.

Why are you acting so jealous? It’s not like Ace is anything to you. You’re not special, you’re nothing to him. 

And you don’t want to be anything to him. So maybe get a grip and stop acting bitchy?

The girls wave goodbye at Ace and one of them tells him to call her because she misses him. You’re not quite sure how your eyes don’t fall out of their sockets from the force with which you roll them. 

Acting bitchy it is, then, you decide as you settle into the passenger seat.

He finally climbs into his jeep and you’re about to ask if he’s seriously going to drive without a shirt on, when he reaches into the backseat - leaning towards your side and making you turn to the window so you don't have to face his naked chest right up your nose - and retrieves another crumpled shirt, putting it on in a swift movement. 

Your eyes follow his earlier movement, to see if there’s an infinite pile of shirts back there, and you release a light snort through your nose at the sight you discover. There’s a folded duvet and a pillow, and thinking about the size of the bed of his jeep, your head instantly makes the assumption on why he keeps that in his car. 

You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to think about it, it just happens. Your mind is stronger than your will and, in a split second, pictures of you and Ace in the back of that jeep course through your head.

The open night sky above you, shining with stars, little dots that act as sole witnesses to your acts of passion;

Languid kisses that trail from your neck, to your chest and end in your lower belly, promising more;

Feather like touches that start on your entwined hands, where he places them above your head. His fingers trace the inside of your raised forearm, tickle your armpit, and follow along your side to your ribs, settling on the bone of your hip, stealing your breath away;

His body slotted above yours, his knee between your legs, keeping them open for him as his chest lowers above you and his lips claim yours;

You shake your head vigorously, mentally chastising yourself for what your mind conjured. He’s a player! You don’t need another fuckboy in your life. Hell, you don’t need another man in your life, period!

“Do you want me to call Kid? He owns the mechanic shop and he can tow your car.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it later. Just take me home, Ace.” You realise how cold you sound and you’re pretty sure he realises that too because he keeps looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

“What happened to your mood, princess? I’m sure Kid can fix your car in a heartbeat.”

He’s seriously that clueless? Figures.

Setting your sight on the open window and the view outside as he starts the jeep, you shake your head.

“Sure. Don’t call me princess.”

Ace settles an arm behind your headrest and turns his body to look back as he reverses the jeep and you force your head to stay still and your eyes to stay glued on the post office signpost across the street.

Fuckboy, player, womaniser. Fuckboy, player, womaniser.

You keep repeating that mantra without fail until he finally faces forward and drives the car. There are few things sexier than a hot man reversing the car like that and you’re not about to add that image of Ace to your already scrambled brain. You refuse. 

“Are your panties in a twist, princess?” He chuckles.

“Two things, Ace. Three, actually.” You raise your fingers as you go and this time you actually look at him. “Don’t talk about my panties, don’t talk to me the rest of the way, and don’t call me princess!” You emphasise the last sentence and end with a hiss and a huff followed by crossing your arms over your chest and turning back to the window. 

You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head. You’re pretty sure he’s reliving every interaction with you up until this moment and why you’re acting pissed. But you’re not about to admit to him the real reason. 

It’s a freaking stupid reason!

You’re not entitled to be upset. You’re not even entitled to be jealous or pissed. Yet, here you are. So you might as well just roll with it. But you’ll never admit it. Ever.

The ride is tense and it seems longer than it actually is, so you can’t wait to jump out of the jeep as soon as he parks it outside your house, but he presses the button that locks the doors and you sigh while turning to him with a raised brow and pursed lips, waiting for him to speak.

“What did I do?”

“That’s a good start. Always admit to guilt. Men are always at fault.” You snort and try the door, even though you know it won’t budge. 

“Princess, look at me. I really don’t know what I did wrong.” The uncertainty in his voice almost makes you cave, but there’s that freaking nickname again. And it’s getting under your skin. 

“Don't. Call. Me. Princess.”

“That’s it? Is that why you’re upset? ‘Cause I can stop. I don’t want to, you’re my princess.” He jokes but you’re not in the mood for jokes. 

“You know what I think, Ace?” Your angry stare bores into his eyes as his smile suddenly dissolves. “I think you call all your girls princess, or sweetheart, or gorgeous or another stupid, infantile pet name, because you can’t be bothered to learn their actual names!” Your hand grips the handle and you try to open the door again, this time with more force, yet it still doesn’t budge. “At least that way, you’re safe when you actually forget their name because they’re just another notch in your freaking cowboy belt!”

He just stares at you, jaw slack, while his hand grips the wheel. 

“Open this door, Ace! I want to leave.”

You huff again but it takes him a moment to react. Downcasting his gaze he nods and unlocks the door without another word. 

“Thanks for the help.” You tell him before slamming the door and climbing the steps to the porch. This was not how you had envisioned the end of this afternoon. 

At all.

[survivalove]

Air Temple Island, the Water Tribes & the Real Life Influences that bring them together

I was gonna screenshot a post I saw and add it to my post but I don’t feel like giving that individual attention (and the 300+ notes they got), so I just decided to make my own standalone post debunking this narrative that air temple island is this fully air nomad brothel (yes they said this) with ZERO water tribe motifs which katara is forced to live in until aang passed away.

frankly it just reminded me of how little people in this fandom actually bother to analyze the actual content, instead preferring to write entirely made up scenarios of katara being reduced to an air nomad incubator along with dozens other female acolytes (yes they also said this lmao. also them acting like both male AND female acolytes weren’t living on the whole other side of the island 😭)

when in truth, i’ve come to find a lot of elements of both water tribes as well as traditional inuit elements across air temple island:

1. the paifang

a traditionally chinese element that for some reason is exclusively found in the northern water tribe (why do they have a gate inside a throne room, you ask? ask the white people that made this show). the one on the left is actually one of two aang BUILT, at the main entrance and another at the temple entrance. this is just one example of water tribe design on the island.

2. the bagua mosaic

another structure is the bagua mosaic on the training grounds. bagua is a set of traditional chinese symbols of the cosmology, taoism. the bagua composes of 8 sets of broken or unbroken lines that represent yin and yang. where have we seen yin and yang in the original series? oh yeah, as tui and la of the water tribe! (because atla is a mess of asiatic and indigenous motifs joined together and spread out across each nation, mainly traditionally chinese elements at that.) aang building this right next to the air nomad training grounds is a symbol of the dual bending heritage their children will have.

3. gold and blue accents

now, gold and blue are the main colors of the exterior structures but is also very strong inside the air temple itself. note, the massive air nomad symbol designed fully in blue in the center and the blue banners and rugs throughout the temple. this is no doubt, for me, a visual depiction of both katara and aang’s representative cultures, but of course this is not limited to color only.

4. cloud carvings

now, this is a slight detour since clouds aren’t a significant part of either of their individual cultures (that we know) but i love the kataang monopoly they have on clouds as a couple so i’m talking about it. if you look at these images very closely what do you see? CLOUD CARVINGS!! specifically near the ceiling of the pavilion (left) and the arches and walls of the temple (right) just imagining aang painting and etching these very consistent swirls, like he’ll never be the selfish inconsiderate unromantic loser you people want him to be, but let’s get more into the southern water tribe style interior.

5. interior design

so here is a southern water tribe white lotus outpost vs the air temple island main dining room. first thing, the seat cushions and rug! while we don’t see air nomad eating quarters we do get to see enough SWT customs both in atla and lok, to know this is how they traditionally eat compared to the north (limiting myself on pics cuz mobile).

another thing is the dining table itself. both have what i believe to be built in fire pits (i couldn’t actually tell for the air temple island one cuz of the quality but if you zoom in you can see the lines go in the table plus the hanging kettle on it makes it obvious to me idk). the southern water tribe one however is clear and likely a more traditional version of what aang and katara have.

thirdly, the exposed timber on the ceiling. i actually looked it up and found this is a common element of these two inuit structures: left is an aasiaat peat house and right is an igloolik turf house. all this for me to believe not only did aang build air temple island to be a haven for the TWO of them but also that katara herself had a lot of input on the interior than people care to notice lol.

maybe instead of projecting these loser fantasies of katara being some unwilling air nomad baby making machine so you can feel better about your fantasies of katara living in a red palace with people that tried to wipe her out for a whole century, you all can go study the actual canon you were shown and the real life cultures the franchise takes from.

6. lastly, some of my own headcanons/stuff i want to see in the movie

the bathroom because I LIVE for a white marble tiled bathroom. i just know katara has to have a HUGE tub and they have one of those insane glass showers that can fit like 3 people, with cloud swirls everywhere because aang clearly got it like that

the KITCHEN, i imagine it being timber like the dining room and is probably on the other side behind the built-in shelf (get into the details like hello). in a perfect world, it would be open plan but hey

the bedroom, now we saw it in lok a bit but i wanna see it in the gaang movie too. i’m on pic limit but there’s a lot of artwork and flowers throughout the whole house which i give katara credit for because I can. like the desk, the bookshelf, that fancy looking vase thing? these two clearly have taste like don’t talk to me rn

I also didn’t show the rooms and aang’s study but there’s a lot of blue decor in those places which makes me think katara decorated the whole house, even the acolytes’ hall has blue sitting cushions and columns which i think is such a nice detail.

if you guys have any air temple island headcanons of your own please reply with some i’m feening lol

big shoutout to this user:

atla-annotated (their page is so great and filled with a lot of incredible information if you guys like this sort of stuff)

[panlight]

hi!! i’m so sorry to keep sending you asks (if you get sick of it please just let me know and i’ll shut up i promise!! 💕💕)

so this is re: the cullens being in high school, as per the ask you answered a couple days ago! i also always thought it was super weird, and i’ve been thinking for a while now that a MUCH better cover story would for them all (even carlisle and esme) to be grad school housemates (i say this as someone who has now spent two years in grad school and is about to be there for another five at least lmaoooo)

here’s why i think it would work:

1. the age weirdness wouldn’t be as obvious bc people of all ages go to grad school (i started when i was 22 and had classmates in their 40s)

2. related to age, the visible/physical age also wouldn’t matter as much since some of my classmates (me included 😭😭) looked like we could still pass as high schoolers while others gave off huge “kids and a mortgage vibes” even if they were just like a year older

3. the whole looking “off” and tired thing is just like. the grad school Look™️. the shadows under the eyes and general gaunt-ish appearance honestly wouldn’t stand out that much and if somebody said something about them looking “off” or whatever, they could just be like “late night studying” and the other person would be like “lmao so true bestie”

4. if they pretended they were all renting space in the same big house (and carlisle and esme just acted a little less parental), the whole “dating each other” thing wouldn’t be that weird at all. i feel like it’s not that uncommon for couples who get along to rent different floors or sections of a house, and if they didn’t pretend to be one big weird family situation and instead just acted like they all met each other at school, i don’t think people would even bat an eye

5. people go to grad school forever. like. for so long (i vaguely knew of someone who was in the eighth or ninth year of her phd). esp if they picked something like a big state school where the “kids” could go to undergrad first, they could realistically do four years of undergrad, maybe a two or three year masters, and then a phd of indeterminate length (usually at least five). that would allow them to stay in the same place for at least 11 years

and this is not an official point, but i will note that for carlisle to still do his whole doctor thing, i think it would be perfectly reasonable for him to have already “graduated” or whatever, but continue to stay with his “friends” for financial reasons, or just bc the living situation worked for everyone

anyway, i’m so sorry this was so long, and honestly i bet someone has already said this somewhere before, but it just struck me when reading the “why tf are the cullens in high school” post that grad school would be such a great cover story for them

haha anyway thanks for putting up with my ramblings and thank you for all the lovely work you do on the blog!! 🥰🥰

I've definitely seen "just put them in college!" before (and I have made that argument myself) but I don't know if I've seen the grad school cover story specifically before!

It would allow Esme and/or Carlisle to be the 'peers' of their children rather than some sort of guardian or parental figures. They could, as you said, all be renting a house together and Esme could be studying architecture or getting a PhD in art history or whatever while the kids study who knows what. Maybe there's a medical school as well and Carlisle can go back (it still makes zero sense that Edward and Rosalie go "to keep him current' like how is that supposed to work? They come home and just recite from perfect vampire memory everything that happened in calls? Wouldn't Carlisle be keeping current by like, idk, actually being a doctor, reading journals, going to conferences, and continuing education?).

A group of friends renting a house together as a bunch of couples makes way more sense than two parents barely visibly older than their foster/adopted kids who all date each other.

And, honestly, it's probably a better use of their time to get actual advanced degrees rather than stopping at undergrad? I know because of secrecy how they use their knowledge and skills is somewhat fraught but like, publish papers under a false name or let someone else take the credit or something and you can still contribute to the world of academia.

[esperosisdoeswriting]

[smashed thru your door] "GOOD DAY random civilian! Do I have a product for YOU which is TOTALLY not a non-biodegradable glitter bomb!!!" [I say as I hand you a box and my voice fades further and further away]

🎁

[the box explodes in your hand leaving a glittery mess as biodegradable glitter falls all over your room. what is left in your hand is a small hand written note]

You’ve captured your nemesis but union rules say neither of you can work overtime. What do you do?

You're lucky I like glitter or I'd be having rabbit stew [cue the criminally offensive side-eye here]. But, well, I suppose along as I have this prompt I might aswell write it.

(I saw this last night while I was posting Tenchalites and wrote it today. Enjoy)

CW: I think there's a cuss word?

Power Struggle

“Would you just settle down!” Hero spat as they wrestled the bindings crushing Villains’ arms, torso, and legs.

“And let you take me to prison?!” Villain hissed back just as aggressively as they continued to struggle, “fat chance! You want me? Then I’m gonna make you earn it!”

“You’re not escaping those bindings, I literally designed these just for you! They-” Hero cut themself off and the pair fell into a brief silence.

Hero was frozen where they stood, and Villain froze as well. Hero’s senses were, regrettably, much keener than theirs and if Hero was stopping then something must be wrong. Villain’s eyes darted around the shadows, looking for threats when, to Villain’s utter shock, the restraints binding them fell away, freeing them entirely.

Villain didn’t waste a moment and sprang to their feet, openly searching their surroundings, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my shift’s over,” Hero sighed as they began packing away the bindings in their pack and Villain’s eyes shot to the hero, confusion and incomprehension flooding every synapse of their being.

“I’m sorry?” Villain asked, “Your shift is over?”

“Yup,” Hero popped the ‘p’.

“So… You’re just letting me go?” Villain asked.

“I can’t bring you in,” Hero finally shoved the last of the bindings into their pack. “New boss didn’t approve over-time.”

Villain stared blankly at Hero for a long, very long, few moments before slowly saying, “your new boss didn’t approve over-time.”

“Yup,” Hero popped the ‘p’ once again and Villain could finally here the undertones of anger in their voice.

“...But you had me caught?” Villain replied.

“Yup.”

“Surely they would understan-”

“You would think that wouldn’t you!” Hero zipped their bag closed around the bindings with such force the metal of the zipped came clean off. Hero gritted their teeth as tossed the useless scrap away into the darkness.

“So you’re just going to let me go because your boss told you no overtime?” Villain finally concluded.

“That’s what the boss wants, thats what the boss gets!”

“You sound like a retail worker,” Villain furrowed their brow and, oh boy was that the wrong thing to say and Hero instantly exploded.

“I feel like a damn retail worker!” Hero shouted, causing Villain to take a step back, “Micromanaging little worm! Bastard just wants to come in and change things to make them ‘more efficient’ to brown nose to his bosses about how great he is! He’s running this place into the ground! But nooooooo! If heroes step a toe out of line the ‘zero tolerance’ policy will get them suspended for ‘insubordination’ so screw him and screw whoever put him in charge! He wants no overtime? That’s what he’s getting, from EVERY hero in the city. We’ll see how long this lasts.”

Villain grimaced in sympathy. He didn’t know how the hell Hero’s boss was but god help the poor soul that got the cities heroes, some of the most egotistical and petty people Villain’s had the misfortune of meeting, to unionize.

“Well, uh, more power to you!” VIllain started to slowly back away from the steaming Hero. “Stick it to the man, rage against the machine, etcetera etcetera.”

“They’ll pay for this,” Hero muttered, “They all will.”

A week later the city was metaphorically, and in some places literally, on fire. Villain wasn’t sure wasn’t going on behind the scenes at this point but between the rioting, crime sprees, and heroes practically frothing at the mouth… Villain decided it was best to leave that particular wasp nest unkicked.

That was, until the big three called a meeting for every villain in the city. The mission? Kill the head of the Hero organization and set everything back to how it was.

This… This was going to be a long day.

[physalian]

Physalian’s Curated Tips on Worldbuilding Megapost

Some of these are *not* mine, they’re from author Randy Ellefson, I’m just interpreting the tips I like in my own words. These specifically come from his book, 185 Tips on World Building. I don’t agree with all of them, because he tends to read as a “you must do this specific thing to be successful,” which is limiting and doesn’t consider when elements work because they’re different, these books are also in the “throw all your eggs in one basket” camp for your one series/mythos, instead of different worlds for different universes.

Ellefson also disagrees with my argument of “everything you build doesn’t have to serve a purpose”. Verbatim, in his book, he says: “There’s no reason to invent something if we don’t have a plan for it.” Which, sorry, no. Easter eggs and details purely for fluff in a one-off sentence make your world feel real.

That said, he does have some useful nuggets I’ll paraphrase below, and some I just went off-book entirely.

1. Pacing your Workflow

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and sitting down to hash out all the elements of your world in one sitting and never deviating from that path greatly limits the scope and variety you could come up with. As I wrote in my “when worldbuilding gets weird” post, the real world wasn’t manufactured by a nitpicky author on a quest to absolve us of plot holes—let your worldbuilding be a little illogical and contradictory and just plain strange and inexplicable.

The best way to do that is to worldbuild when inspiration strikes, or at least leaving your worldbuilding loose enough to add in extra details and spice whenever you come up with something cool. Do a little note here or there, toss it in your “worldbuilding” bin, and you’ll likely end up with something far more unique and organic than following any step-by-step method.

2. Are the Gods Real?

In essence—say you have your fantasy world and your fantasy religions. Decide whether or not those prayers can actually be answered, and to what degree, and how the existence (or just speculation) of your world’s religion impacts scientific thought and endeavors.

You can write a whole-ass religion with all these beliefs and practices, and leave it entirely up to speculation whether there’s anyone listening. Or strike it somewhere in the middle where they do exist but aren’t very hands on, or they do exist, but only for certain groups, or they did exist, etc.

In my WIP sci-fi series, I had a little bit of both. One world where they’re very much real and there’s proof, and one world where everyone sure believes their capital-G god is real, with zero evidence.

3. Species vs Races

Most of the time, in fantasy, they’re different “races” in that they can intermarry and interbreed and create things like half-elves. In sci-fi, they tend to be different species with different lifespans, biological structures, diets, habitats, restrictions, etc. If your world is the latter, something really underexplored in these kinds of settings is how being completely different species can be devastating to romantic relationships that connect on an intellectual level, but just can’t on a long-term scale.

Also an aside—if you’re going to write a racism allegory consider the following: Racism in the real world is a social construct. We are all human and the differences between us are negligible, making all the fearmongering baseless. And yet, in so many stories, fantasy racism is between two legitimately different species or between one group, and one Much Cooler group (mutants, fairies, elves, aliens, supernatural entities). Suddenly the fantasy racists have a leg to stand on because they aren’t all the same species and they are fundamentally different, which… misses the point entirely? Elves vs “Dark Elves” are a whole different ballgame than “Elves vs Humans”.

4. The Planet of Hats

Taken from OSP, and Ellefson. “Gee, I wonder who the bad guys are?”

The bad guys: Blood red eyes, stereotypically ugly features, skulking around in the dark with yellow teeth, claws, a penchant for hissing, and a color pallet of reds and blacks.

The good guys: Conventionally gorgeous, pastels and bold rainbows of color, sunny utopia of a civilization.

Unless the point is to comment on the planet of hats, or be funny, try to inject some variety and nuance in the Bad Guy realm.

5. Determine the Social Hierarchy

Most of us can come up with the lower class and the rich one percenters for our worlds rather easily, I think, because those tend to be emphasized most heavily in fantasy, and your hero/villain will likely fall into either side. But do you have a middle class? What socioeconomic hurdles are in place to keep everyone in their lanes?

What’s the difference between homeless, impoverished, poor, getting by, renting, home-owning, and land-owning? How can you tell, and how does your world’s rich maintain their place, outnumbered by your world’s proletariat? Hunger Games is a fantastic example—some Districts are much more heavily favored and nurtured by the rich than others.

6. Monsters

Similar to whether or not the gods are real—are your monsters real? Does your world have their own in-universe metaphors and allegory for the “monstrous” that are still myths? What does that say about these people? Has that view around those “monsters” and what they allegorically represent in-universe changed?

If the monsters are real, are they actually monsters, or the victims of propaganda? Are the “normal people” the real monsters? Are they all just people creating violent slander against each other?

7. Plants, Animals, and Natural Resources

Stuff like this is, in my opinion, only important to heavily detail and think about if the plot demands it. As in, I don’t need to know about the land’s farming practices if a food shortage or grain disease or fantasy inflation of corn prices isn’t part of the story. A one-off line? Sure. A farmer’s backstory? Sure. Taking a random aside to talk at length about genetic engineering of onions in your book about fantasy spies? No.

That said, if this is part of your plot, mix together some real-world analogues and when it comes to fundamental methods for survival, like farming, think of what would be the path of least resistance for these people to come up with. A seaside village is probably going to survive mainly on fish, mussels, and crustaceans because it’s right there for the taking, as opposed to trying to farm avocados on starved soil. If they are trying to farm avocados, now that’s a peculiar story I’d love to hear more about.

8. Zombies?

Or the general concept of an afterlife, and reverting back from it. Is there a religion around their dead and where they go when they’re gone? Can they come back? Do the people only think they can come back? Are there whole rituals or beliefs around revival or reincarnation or body-hopping?

What parts of your afterlife really are a myth, and what can you prove within the narrative? Does it even matter to the plot if fantasy heaven is real? Do your characters refuse to believe in it, despite evidence to the contrary?

Are the “undead” bound to religious rules, or supernatural? Meaning: If I write about vampires, am I writing with Christian rules (with the churches and the holy ground and crosses being problematic) or something older? If I write about zombies, are they a natural phenomenon, or a plague from the gods?

9. On Practical Planets (Physalian’s)

I just watched a movie where there was a lock-box with a celestial combination lock, and to unlock it they needed to know the specific future date the last people who touched it would have thought of. The problem: That box predates the modern calendar, and the writers either didn’t know, didn’t care, or didn’t think it was important (it wasn’t, but still).

Same principle applies on creating planets: How “real” do you intend to get? We’re already off the edge of the map when we create multiple humanoid alien races, implying a cosmic degree of convergent evolution. The more “real” you get with your worldbuilding, the more questions you open up, the more it starts to fall apart as you put the audience’s ability to suspend their disbelief under a microscope.

Example: Artificial gravity. We can either make spinning spaceships, or just say the ship has some fancy alien tech that magically makes it happen and not explain in any further detail. And people will buy it because this is sci-fi.

When it comes to planets and concerning elements like tides, seasons, weather patterns, different gravitational pulls, whether the air should even be breathable, it can get very overwhelming very quickly if you yourself don’t allow some room for your own suspension of disbelief. So consider playing with elements on non-Earth worlds like how the night sky would look on an inhabited moon, or a binary star system, but also, this is fantasy. Just roll with it.

If you are intending to write a universe with very realistic and grounded physics, you have a lot of research to do and authors like Ellefson have plenty of guidance to help you.

10. Practical Geography (Physalian’s)

Once again: If it’s important to the plot, go ham on your climates and weather patterns and how the geography and mountains shape rainfall and such. The more bearing the physical environment has on the story, the more detail it deserves. Your fantasy city is going to need a source of freshwater and ample fields for food if they farm, vs import.

But also, get weird. Fill your fantasy geography with crazy natural phenomena. You might have a forest of trees that your fantasy woodpeckers bored a million holes through, and when the wind blows, the entire forest sounds like a godly flute. Or you have a river that runs beet purple in the spring because of a natural mineral deposit upriver, perfectly harmless. Or you have a flower that can walk, creeping around the forest floor on its root ball devouring beetles all night long.

Real world physics are fun to play with and can create some interesting problems: Like your heroes crash land on a jungle world with air they can’t breathe, demanding they address this problem that many sci-fi stories overlook, but it’s also terribly constricting. This is fantasy. Get fantastical.

11. Fantasy Politics and Why They’re in Power

100 years from now, I’d love to know how the textbooks describe the evolution of early 2000s American politics. If you have a fantasy dictator, figure out how they came to power, who they stood on to get where they are, and what parts of the populace were so desperate for a world they don’t live in, that they gave this leader the shirts off their backs.

Figure out the answer to “How did we get here?” Let it be illogical, and let our current political climate serve as example. You can have whatever hill you want to die on for your chosen politicians, for the most arbitrary reasons, and most of us don’t have well-thought-out theses on why we vote the way we do. Our views are filtered through the media we consume, and the media we don’t consume.

Let the system be broken and nonsensical—you can’t get any worse than reality.

12. Romanticizing (Physalian’s)

In other words, does your world have an era, a style of design, a way of living, a philosophy of a bygone time that they romanticize? Do they have idolized fantasy celebrities? A type of home or settlement that’s the Fantasy American Dream? What’s being advertised by the fantasy luxury, leisure, and cosmetic brands?

Was there a previous leader who led like no other? Do you have your own “Make Fantasy Land Great Again” group? Do they have merit? Is there another culture one group strives to live like? Architecture or clothing or cultural items they buy en masse to “be like the idols”.

I have a world with cultural artifacts inspired by Italian Murrine style glassblowing and via magic, they can make some physics-bending art pieces. Those artifacts, from that ancient culture, have been stolen and sold to enemy museums and the elite and have become a status symbol, even though the ancient culture just made plates and bowls out of necessity and would be horrified at their legacy.

13. Fantasy Weaponry and Innovation

Necessity inspires innovation, but what if your world never invented cars or gunpowder? For example: American land travel and urban design was built, with rare exception around our oldest cities, for cars in mind, not trains or horses and wagons and foot traffic, because of where we sit on the industrial revolution timeline. Our cities aren’t retrofitted for cars, our roads are wide enough for that sole purpose. Our settlements can be very widely spread apart because they were built with the knowledge of speedy travel in mind. Very few things, especially in the South (where I live) can be considered in “walking distance,” much less safely. You must own a car, you have no other option. The Powers That Be also hate trains because more trains means less need for cars and car companies like money.

Alternatively, how does warfare change depending on how deadly and plentiful your fantasy weapons evolve to be? Modern soldiers don’t prance around in their national colors and fancy feathered hats anymore, standing across from each other and shooting on command. Was there any practical reason for dressing your soldiers in bright, candy red, Britain? Surely must’ve been easy to spot for an ambush. Surely wasn’t practical, or logical, but it did happen.

14. Timescales

I want to address the alternative to the obvious “create a standard unit of measurement”. Show what happens when there isn’t a standard unit of measurement, and let chaos ensue. You should have one for the sake of not confusing your readers, but in-universe, have different cultures choosing to die on their hill of having 25 months when the rest of the world has 23, with the former based on their local natural phenomena and the latter based on lunar cycles.

“Military time” as we call it in the US, is the standard 24-hour clock that still confuses us and has us counting up on our fingers. A system we refuse to change even though it’s fundamentally the same amount of time, is a broken system that we still use because it's too hard to change (like the imperial measurement system).

15. Famous Places and Significant Architecture

Do you have a fantasy Disneyland? What about a fantasy remnant of a fantasy World's Fair randomly in your city? Or a bidding war between rival artists amounting to crazy monuments and art installations around the region trying to one-up each other? Your own Chicago Bean with a real name that no one uses and most of us aren’t even aware exists?

Or for religious purposes, what do your churches look like? Do they tower skyward as a monument to a celestial creator, or do they bury deep below ground and into the ocean, to reach a land or water god? Are they massive monuments or humble temples? Are they beautiful displays of wealth, or little wooden gazebos built by the locals? What does your architecture say about your culture?

16. Languages and Cultural Barriers (Physalian’s)

Whether you decide to write your own language (of which I made a guide for) or come up with a few words here and there and allude to foreign tongues, how do these languages, and the people who speak them, navigate foreign lands? How is the dominant language taught? Is the foreign language looked down on and discriminated against? Is even speaking it or having a name from it considered a crime? Are signs and advertisements written in multiple languages or just the dominant one?

What foreign traits are seen as unsavory by the dominant one, whether it’s clothing, religion, lifestyle choices, names, social behaviors, food, parenting, etc? How does the dominant culture discriminate–through law or social pressure?

Is your culture striving to protect a dying language and offering free courses and resources to learn it? Is there a dialect specific to one class or group or region? Do you have a pidgin or creole (not Creole) that comes from a blending of cultures, by force or by chance?

—

I want to make it clear that I don’t think Randy Ellefson is objectively wrong. He makes a lot of good points—for grounded worldbuilding. As I said above, the more central any one piece of your worldbuilding is to the plot, the more detail and thought you should put into it so it feels believable and it feels like there’s much more beneath the tip of the iceberg than just what’s on the page.

He points out many facets of how a society is established where it is, when it is, and why a people would come together, stay together, thrive together, and fall apart. Lots of elements you might not think about when you’re staring at a blank canvas.

I just think his tips don’t allow for the creative freedom of the weird and illogical aspects that make a world feel organic, and not manufactured with step-by-step instructions. His tips are for world building, not world discovering.

[nanabansama]

Who Hurt Amane

I recently got an ask about this topic! And I feel I've been pretty vocal lately about who I think did it. My opinion isn't new or unique, but because of this ask I wanted to lay out the facts to explore other possibilities and also reinforce why I think it is who I think it is.

So without further ado, let's list out the facts.

1. Amane has been getting injured since first year.

Tsuchigomori makes it pretty clear in Chapter 13 that Amane has been covered in injuries that "never go away" since first year, among other things like having no friends and skipping class.

Most can agree that Amane wasn't being abused as a toddler (post-Tsukasa's return) or at the Tanabata festival. He does not show any particularly concerning signs of a child who is being abused or bullied, and his bare skin shows no sign of injury. I think that rules out Amane being abused his entire life, or at least not as severely as he was during his second year of middle school.

We've seen Amane at two different points during his first year, though, and neither had him visibly injured. Those being his and Tsukasa's middle school entrance ceremony and during the 1968 school festival.

I feel it safe to assume that the physical abuse hadn't yet started at these points in time. (though considering Amane's dour attitude at the festival I wouldn't be super surprised if he's hiding scars...)

Also, remember that Tsuchigomori would have to notice these injuries, so I'm going to rule out the possibility that Tsuchigomori could skirt by on technicality just because Amane is hiding injuries on his legs or chest. Tsuchigomori wouldn't normally be able to see hidden cuts and bruises, so I believe he must have started noticing Amane is being injured sometime later in his first year. Remember, Amane still has about ~6 months worth of time to obtain visual injuries. That's a lot of time left.

We can at least confirm that Amane has no friends and skips class, though. Or at least see the beginnings of this. In Chapter 101, Amane confirms he has little to no involvement with the school play his class and Tsukasa are putting on and instead chooses to focus on fixing the clock. There's also a bonus comic where Amane calls out how peculiar it is that Tsukasa has so many friends while Amane doesn't.

It should only be a matter of time before we start seeing him covered in cuts, too.

2. Tsukasa isn't injured.

This one's a little harder to prove, but bear with me here.

We've had a few opportunities to see the twins during the murder suicide.

Here's Amane after stabbing Tsukasa:

And here's Tsukasa's body below Amane's in the same chapter that the above image was posted on Twitter to promote:

Take note of how pristine Tsukasa's arm looks: We get such a clear view of it, and yet all we see is a bit of blood splatter. I've seen this image dismissed before because Amane's arm is also missing his bandage (note how his right arm is bandaged in the art before this) but I still think this is substantial evidence to support the idea that Tsukasa wasn't injured like Amane was.

And if that's not enough for you, I have something else for you to consider:

This is Hanako in The Hell of Mirrors, a place whose mirrors reflect your greatest fears.

I've seen many people remain unconvinced that the character in the mirror is Tsukasa, thinking it must be Amane himself. And I can understand where they're coming from--why shouldn't he fear Amane? He's his old living self, the volatile one that committed the crime of murdering his little brother. That, and it's a mirror--why wouldn't it reflect the person inside?

So let's compare the face in the mirror with Amane's face.

Notice how the face has zero bandages. Amane has one on his left cheek, one above his right eyebrow, and one on the right side of his neck. The figure in the mirror has no bandages, not even on his arms.

This on top of the fact that I believe his little brother's dead body makes far more sense for Amane to fear than his own. If Amane himself is supposed to be his greatest fear, it makes more sense if it was him actually committing the murder, rather than his body on the floor after committing suicide. From what I understand of Amane, that would fill him with more disgust and self-hatred than anything.

So in conclusion, I either think that 1.) Tsukasa wasn't being physically abused, 2.) that he happened to stop being injured in the days leading up to the murder, or 3.) that if he did have injuries that they were in non-visible places. My default is that he wasn't, though.

And this leads us to...

3. Amane forgives them

Amane fully understands that his injuries aren't normal. That even in the cases that injuries like his could be justified, that his might not be. Regardless, he forgives it. He's allowing this to happen to him, and he refuses to tell Tsuchigomori the details.

After witnessing this, Nene comes up with the theory that Amane could be getting bullied, but if that were the case, I don't see why he would forgive some random bullies. The fact that Amane forgives them for their crime against him is an impactful moment! The chapter ends on it, even.

I believe the fact that Amane forgives this is crucial to understanding who did it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.ೃ

While we don't know Amane's full backstory yet, given what we know so far, I think the only two possibilities are either Tsukasa or their mom. And frankly, I think it would be weird for us to know as much about Amane as we do now and have the person injuring him be someone we haven't even met yet. Not impossible, no, but you'd think they'd be more important to his life if Amane forgives them, right?

Let me argue against the idea that it's his mother, as well. The injuries started in first year, not when he was a child. By all means, Amane seemed to be an average child up until middle school. Take note of his appearance during the 1964 Tanabata festival, when he was 8. The only really concerning things we saw were a lack of parental supervision and the fact that he was disappointed his brother wouldn't spend time at the festival with him.

In fact, we've seen very little of their mom, with the most damning evidence against her being when she rejected Tsukasa as her child after taking him to a shrine to be exorcised. Other than this, we've seen no evidence that she could be hitting her children. I personally find it weird that she would only start hitting them in middle school, if she is the cause of all this. And only Amane, at that. (I will admit I find it odd that her son getting injured didn't concern her to the point that his teacher had to step in, though.)

I also need to stress that we haven't seen Amane interact with or mention his mom since he was 4. Tsukasa's relationship with their mother is much more important to the story than Amane's. But who has Amane interacted with? Whose relationship with Amane is very important to the story?? (hint: it's Tsukasa)

Unfortunately, I don't actually know why Tsukasa is hurting him. We know so little, it's still possible it isn't him. But we also haven't seen Amane interact with Tsukasa during the time period in which we know he was being injured. This seems... intentional, to me. As if Tsukasa were somehow involved, in one way or another.

Something to consider, though, is that Amane was being injured around the time he turned thirteen. The 1968 school festival is only about two months before his 13th birthday. Thanks to Kou, we know that Tsukasa knows Amane is going to kill him and commit suicide when he turns thirteen. I'm not necessarily saying that this is why Tsukasa would have hurt him, but it's interesting, to say the least.

Anyway, this last part is a lot of conjecture, so I've separated it from what I view as actual facts about the person hurting Amane. But what do you all think?

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen!!! Popping in to ask what you think the moon boys’ hobbies would be (if they weren’t so busy moon knighting). (For Steven, I feel like studying ancient Egypt is more like a passion, so like what else do you think he’d be into?)

K. Love you! Byeeeee.

IDJIDHVDHFH Oh my gosh, I love this ask so much! Thank you so, so, SO much for sending it! ❤️(ILY!) Did I think about this at work for a good 1 and 30 mins instead of working on a spreadsheet? No, of course not, I would never do that… 👀

I have narrowed it down to one each to save everyone from seeing my absolute madness.

Moon Knight Boys Headcanons & Hobbies

Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Swearing

Steven: Cooking

Okay, here me out. So, I’ve seen opposite ends of opinion on this one (both are valid) but I’m going with Steven is a very good cook, and he likes cooking. 

He’s been vegan for a while and it’s only in the last couple of years that food places have really been trying with vegan and vegetarian options that aren’t salad… bread… (chips if you’re lucky) So, I think he enjoys making lots of different recipes. 

It started out with him just making vegan ones and then, over time, became him changing other recipes to make them vegan and coming up with his own. 

Absolute master at vegan cakes, no one can ever tell the difference, and, in fact, a lot of people compliment him on ‘the best cake they’ve ever had’, ‘so light and fluffy? How do you do it?’ “Well, that’s the secret, innit?” (whisk the aquafaba like your life depends on it and sweet potato) 

Steven is absolutely horrified by the food Marc makes himself. (Plain chicken, rice, spinach) 

“Where are the flavours Marc? At least some herbs? Spices for fuck’s sake? I can’t believe you’re eating plain steamed chicken?” (He doesn’t even care that it’s meat, it's just the lack of flavour.)

“It’s boiled chicken actually.”

Steven loses his goddamn mind. 

“I don’t care what bloody macronutrient you are monitoring, you are not eating that.”

It’s not that Marc can’t cook, he just doesn’t see the reason to put the effort in when it’s just for himself (doesn’t feel like he deserves it.)

Steven grumbles to himself and refuses to let Marc cook his own dinner if he can help it. “If you’re going to eat meat, at least treat it with respect, yeah? Bring out the flavour?” He usually preps something for Marc, so he can cook it quickly when he’s hungry. 

Makes so many cakes and pastries for Jake. Leaves them in boxes with ‘Jake :)’ written on a post stick note on the top. Jake is always so touched and surprised when he does. They have taken to playing a little game where sometimes the food is vegan and sometimes it’s not and Jake has to guess. He’s more accurate than most people, but it still only averages around 70% right. (69% if we’re being exact, and Marc is sure Jake’s messing with the correct statistics on purpose.)

Marc: Fantasy Baseball and Fantasy Football

Literally takes it so seriously. Has spreadsheets filled with information and pours over every single statistic like it holds the answers to the universe. It only got more intense when he found a forum for people with the same interest and he literally will spend hours talking online about it.

“It’s not about getting the best players, it’s about making the best team.”

Jake has joked that he puts Steven and his love for history to shame and if those spreadsheets weren’t saved on the computer Marc would have boxes and boxes and folders upon folders of printed out info and then there would be zero space in the flat. 

When Marc annoys Steven, Steven tells him to “go play with your pretend american cricket and american rugby” to piss him off. 

(Marc retaliates by incorrectly pronouncing UK places. 

“Steven, maybe we should take a trip to Ed-in-b-row” 

“It’s Ed-in-bruh.” 

“How about Sus-SEX or Es-SEX?” 

“It’s Sus-SIX and Es-SIX.” 

“I do love Green-WITCH at this time of year.” 

“IT’S GREN-ITCH! Jake, you're from New York, how is Greenwich pronounced?” 

“I’m not getting involved.” 

“Ha! That’s because he agrees with me!”

When things get really heated, Marc threatens to make a cup of tea in the microwave. Steven says he doesn’t care because he makes coffee in the microwave all the time and it’s fine. Jake puts an end to it by saying hot chocolate tastes best with water and then laughing when both Marc and Steven gang up on him. 

“I cannot believe you think that mate.”

“You know how many different types of milk there are?”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

“Cow, goat, soya, almond, coconut, literally any of them instead.”)

Jake: Knitting

Wanted something to keep his hands busy, that he could pick up and put down, and that he could take in his cab when he was stationary and waiting for fares. 

Took to it a lot quicker than he thought it would, and can just zone out and knit. It helps keep him grounded. 

He feels like he has spent a lot of his time destroying and there is something so satisfying about being able to create. 

Once he mastered the stitch he quickly moved onto making clothes. Before Marc and Steven knew about him he used to knit jumpers for Steven and hide them in the wardrobe. 

Jake makes Marc a cartoony style baseball jumper that he also loves, and a thick cardigan for Steven that is covered in hieroglyphics (he spends months researching the language to get it to make some sense, and works in a dig at Khonshu in there and has Steven crying with laughter.) 

When they know about him Steven excitedly requests the “most garish and over the top Hanukkah jumper anyone has ever seen!” Jake does his best, presenting it to Steven (and trying to hide how nervous he feels) Steven loves it and refuses to take it off all winter. 

Most people think Jake has a stern glare when he wants, but you can never be sure if he’s planning your destruction or trying to work out how many balls of wool it would take to make someone your size a jumper.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[sakurapika]

What are your all-time favorite outfits from Twisted Wonderland?

Hello @letterstoear, thank you for ask! I've had a lot of fun making this post, and I'm so sorry that it took forever to answer!

Every time I was certain I had my list narrowed down, I remembered another outfit I really liked. (Also, I'm a little bit biased, as you will see...haha). This time, I focused on event outfits to make it easier for myself. Maybe in the future I'll post my "reviews" on dorm uniforms or Halloween costumes.

I am always blown away by the the little details that Yana Toboso and the rest of the design team have added to each of characters' outfits, because they give some interesting insight to their personalities and backgrounds.

Without further ado, let's discuss some outfits! (Please note that there are spoilers for upcoming events from the JP server, as well as some groovy arts!)

My Favorite Twisted Wonderland Outfits

10. Floyd's Outdoor Wear (Vargas Camp)

Most of the outfits on my list are on the extravagant side. I recently bought a volume of Black Butler, where there was a note about how Yana Toboso loves to draw clothing, and it truly shows.

But in contrast to seeing our beloved characters in over-the-top costumes, it's refreshing to see them wearing casual outfits once in a while as well and see their individual, everyday styles.

I'll admit that I haven't played any of the Vargas Camp events, and have a grand total of zero (0) cards from this series. I'm not sure why; I always miss the event's runtime for some reason.

Still, I've always loved Floyd's little sling bag with the eel keychain, as well as the teal visor. The bright colors stand out and are appealing.

The whole outfit looks like something you could get from a store like Uniqlo, and sometimes it is nice to have that sort of realism in a magical game. He looks like an ordinary teenager I could find on the street. Except...if I did find Floyd on the street, I'd be running in the other direction. But that's not the main idea here.

9. Azul's Glorious Masquerade Outfit

At first, I sort of forgot that this SSR existed. When the PV for Glorious Masquerade came out, I was more focused on Malleus.

However, eventually, many people began to cosplay as GloMas Azul, and they all looked so amazing. I began to appreciate the outfit more after seeing people pose and dance in it. Azul also tends to have some of the best fanart, and fans have spared no expense when drawing him wearing this.

My favorite part of the outfit is his coat. I like the silhouette it creates with a high-waist belt, and the long coattails that resemble tentacles. The ruffles on his trousers are cute, too. I would buy a pair if I could. Unfortunately, it's hard to see these details on his in-game sprite.

As for his accessories, the pearls are so dramatic (and so very Azul). His round glasses are also cute, I hope he wears them again!

8. Idia's Suitor Suit

One look at Idia's Ghost Marriage outfit, and you can really tell that it was designed by Yana Toboso. His gloves, coat, and cravat make him look like he's in the Victorian Era. Also, doesn't he look sort of like Grelle from Black Butler?

Speaking of Grelle, Idia's outfit is meant to look more like funeral attire, between the long, black coat and the lilies pinned to his shoulder. There are also skulls hidden throughout his outfit, such as on his jacket chain and cufflinks. I was still new to TWST at the time, so I just thought that Idia liked gothic clothing. I didn't realize he was (at least in his mind) attending his own funeral!

Let's not forget his new hairstyle! This is one of Idia's first SSRs if I remember correctly, so it was exciting to see him with a ponytail.

My love for this outfit also comes from my love for the story associated with it. Fans have pointed out that Idia's "arranged marriage" with Eliza parallels the myth of Hades and Persephone. The design team and Yana were so clever for this.

I don't have this card, either, but I hope to pick him up one day!

7. Ortho's Fairy Gear

The Shroud brothers are luckyーthey are probably two of the characters with the most SSRs in the game.

That being said, we all have to agree that Ortho's fairy gear is one of the most unique and avant-garde cards in the game.

I really enjoy the white and gold color scheme in this event. His color-changing wings are stunning, and the piece covering his eyes makes him look very mysterious.

I thought this card was cool when I first saw it, but then I learned that Ortho's outfit and hair can turn pink, which is even better.

Every time I see his "pointe shoes," it makes me imagine Ortho and Idia trying to learn how to dance together in Idia's room, and Idia obsessively studying ballet costumes for his younger brother.

Yet again, I don't have this card, but my best friend does! At least I can admire him from her phone...

6. Silver's Rabbit Wear

There is no way that this outfit is just an R card! When this card was first advertised in one of the JR rail train stations, the pictures showed this card with Deuce's hometown in the background instead of the standard Diasomnia R background, so I thought that this card would at least be an SR. (Although I can't complain so much, because that means it's free!)

Silver is so princely. I am convinced that he can look good in anything. I am fond of pastel colors, and the pink/blue color scheme suits him, as the TWST version of Aurora. The bows may be silly, but I find them adorable.

Compared to the other boys in this event, Silver's outfit looks a little more like a soldier's (albeit a toy soldier's or a nutcracker's), which is a cool touch.

5. Deuce's Rabbit Wear

Deuce's hometown event was truly one of my favorite events that came out in the JP sever last year. Not only were some of my most favorite characters there, but they were dressed up in the most whimsical outfits possible. (And we got to meet Deuce's motherーshe's the coolest!)

Since Deuce is the main character of this event, his outfit bears the most resemblance to the white rabbit's in most classic illustrations, complete with a bow tie, top hat, and, of course, his pocket watch. His outfit has a blue color scheme. Like Azul in GloMas, Deuce also wears round glasses in his groovy art. Overall, it looks like the sweet ouji style, although I'm not very familiar with this sub-fashion. If anyone who is reading this has studied/worn this style of fashion, please let me know!

I used to play Love Nikki and Shining Nikki (two fashion-themed gacha games), which also featured lolita dresses inspired by Alice in Wonderland characters. For this reason, Deuce's outfit in particular feels very nostalgic to me.

4. Lilia's Right General Armor

Here's another departure from the cute pastel outfits...

Sleeping Beauty was one of my favorite Disney movies as a child. I always remembered Maleficent's "goons" as short, silly little creatures wearing simple green tunics.

So how on earth did we get to Right General Lilia Vanrouge?!

Seriously, I'm just stunned by how the artists looked at the source material and created something so radically, yet wonderfully, different.

I'm curious about the green stones (jades?) on his outfit--around his waist, there are several pieces attached to tassels, and he has two strapped to his right leg. The material matches the stone used for his weapon. Maybe it represents his status in Briar Valley. If you check his (unposed) sprite, you can also see that he is wearing something around his waist that looks like folded bat wings.

Like everyone else, I'm obsessed with his long hairーit makes him look so formidable, especially with that hood. My friends and I like to joke that his ponytail makes him look like a character in a Chinese martial arts drama.

Again, the story associated with this card made me love it even more. Few books have made me cry as much as Book 7 of TWST.

3. Malleus' Glorious Masquerade Outfit

While Sleeping Beauty was my favorite movie as a young child, when I got older, I began to love The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was only natural for this outfit to be among my favorites for this reason.

There are so many details here. The feathered hat. The sheer sleeves. The golden embroidery. The split cape. It's honestly overwhelming to take in at once.

I can say that my favorite detail is his green earrings. They really bring out his eye color, and the PV made them so sparkly.

In addition, everyone I've ever seen who has cosplayed as GloMas Malleus or has drawn fanart of him has increased my appreciation of this outfit.

[Now for some very spoiler-y stuff] The fact that this event came just before the release of Chapter 7 is worth noting. Doesn't it feel a bit tragic that just before Malleus' overblot, we have a chance to see him wearing an outfit that makes him look especially like his mother, having fun and being the star at the masquerade? And what about the feathers on his shouldersーdo they hint at another side of his family? There's so much foreshadowing and mystery going on, and nothing is more suitable for the occasion than masquerade attire.

2. Kalim's New Year Attire

I've already rambled about how sentimental this outfit is to me in a previous post, but in summary: New Year is my favorite holiday, and the New Year's Sale event was the first event I "seriously" participated in. Kalim looks excessively cute and festive in his kimono, and every time I see this card, I feel nostalgic and in the holiday mood.

1. (Tied) Epel's Applepom Outfit and Riddle's Beach Outfit

I'm really sorry, Epel and Riddle are my favorite characters, and in the end, I refuse to chose between them. They're like my younger brothers! I try to collect all of their cards, so I pay attention to their outfits the most, and picking only one outfit for each character was a challenge in itself.

My favorite part of Epel's Applepom outfit is his cloak. It looks so fluffy and warm. When you set him as your home screen character, you also have the option to "swap looks" and see his outfit without the cloak--the apple embroidery on the rest of his outfit is very detailed. Many fans have mentioned that the outfits people wear in Harveston resemble traditional Scandinavian clothing, which is really cool!

The little apple slices on his cap are everything.

And I'm always happy to see characters in different hairstyles, such as Epel's little ponytail.

One of my headcanons is that you're allowed to call Epel cute, but only when he wears this specific outfit, because he takes it as a complement to his culture.

As for Riddle, we're all so used to seeing him wearing formal suits. It's so nice to see him loosening up for once. He looks so happy, now that he has the chance to see the ocean for the first time!

I also happened to be on vacation at the beach around the time this event came out, so it felt like a gift.

I have to laugh a little, because there are so many flowers on his outfit. Even Jack pointed it out in the story. But he looks so cute!

I suppose we have to discuss the elephant in the room. My friend saw it before me, so she spammed me with messages along the lines of "RIDDLE IS WEARING A CROP TOP!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!" and I naturally thought she was pranking me. But lo and behold, it's the truth. I like to headcanon that among the rest of the cast in this event, everyone has made an unspoken mutual agreement not to mention it. This Victorian child has already been through enough, and not a word must reach Mrs. Rosehearts.

Thank you once again for the ask! For anyone who read all of this, what do you think about these outfits, and which ones in the game are your favorite?

[bleachbleachbleach]

Rukia is in the WHERE now?

[Bleach 089]

If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that my mental map of the Seireitei is very wrong, and that there is really no helping this at this point. I also realized that when I think about Soul Society, invariably west is always down, east is up, north is left, and south is right--which like, whyyyy would THAT be the way I orient the map?!

Because of Hisagi's dumb bowl drawing in Colorful Bleach, that's why:

[Colorful Bleach]

Naturally, I was curious about the directions Ikkaku offers here! Rukia is where?

"the barracks of the Thirteen Court Guard companies"

My assumption has always been that each division's barracks are separate from one another, and exist within the rest of the division grounds. We all assume this. We know we are correct about this. Though it WOULD be hilarious is this massive tower prison was just like, the barrack penthouse and the entire Gotei lived in one very flammable tenement. Also, the Gotei version of Rear Window would be magnificent. But anyway. I guess I assumed the rest of Rukia's Tower Complex was also prison, or that it was part of some amalgamated center where the Central 46 and stuff was, rather than barrack.

So what is Ikkaku talking about here?

Specifically, he says, 各隊の詰所 (kakutai no tsumesho), which he then abbreviates to 各隊詰所, each division's station/post (same "station" as in Coordinated Relief Station). In the Edo period, a tsumesho was basically a rest stop for visiting government officials, or people who were traveling to shrines and the like--a place to overnight, or nap, or wait. In modern parlance, it's kind of like a hostel. So I don't think he means like, the barracks barracks, the primary sleeping locations barracks.

Gotei WeWork

The Wiki article on tsumesho also notes that tsumesho can refer to like, shared office space for factory guards, or people who are coming and going, which makes the most sense in our application. So rather than 'every barrack for every division' I feel like the intention here is "Rukia is in the tower part of the shared workspace/staging area, Gotei WeWork." It makes sense to have one, particularly if this is where the library and reports archives live!

Also obsessed with the idea that the The Tower is just like, next to some crappy portable with one table, a wastebasket, a copy machine with zero toner, a cabinet with a shitton of paper and brushes and ink so you can handwrite your own copies, and a mysterious stained futon that literally every shinigami in the entire Gotei has napped on at one point or another.

But also, I feel like Ikkaku could have been a little more descriptive. "That can't-miss imperious white tower by the giant butte smack in the middle of town," maybe? But I guess if that's not how they talk about that place in their working day, then it's not how they talk about that place in their working day!

I'll also note that in this view, north is actually at the top of the image, unlike in Hisagi's drawing:

[Bleach e384]

In fairness to Hisagi, his drawing was explaining the POV of Ichigo et al having started in West Rukongai. Because they walked up to the West Gate to try to enter the Seireitei, it makes sense that the vanishing point (that which lies beyond the gate; that is, east) would be at the top of the frame. But I prefer to think of Hisagi as someone who would just draw maps like that, because now he's got me doing it, too.

[heichou-dancho]

FFVII Rebirth thoughts (Spoilers for everything)

I reemerge having finished Rebirth after four weeks and 92 hours in-game playtime. That’s an incredibly short but also massive amount of playtime for me, Yakuza 0 took me a year with pauses. I’m still reeling after finishing chapter 13, and since all my FF buddies from the old days are long gone, I’ll just vent here. I enjoy reading the reactions and thoughts of other players, so maybe someone else does too?

This post is full of spoilers and Shinra fangirling, but it’s about the whole game:

Shinra:

First, somebody on the team that wrote material for the Turks and Rufus must be some Shinra fandom veteran grown up with 20 years of fanon. Just Elena as a whole, Rude getting her that ice cream, Rufus in the Gold Saucer harassing fighting Cloud for fun, Dark Star not only obeying Rufus but also Tseng. Rufus complaining that Tseng is being overprotective… (faints) So much crack and shippy moments, I was grinning like an idiot.

(Is crack fic even a thing anymore? It feels like they’ve gotten rarer)

I expected maybe three or four scenes with the Turks, maybe less for Rufus. AND THEN SQUARE SHOVED THEM IN WHEREVER THEY COULD WITHOUT DERAILING THE PLOT. Elena was given so much room to breathe. Same for Rufus. Those little moments with Darkstar. I’m over the moon.

Okay, Rufus, so your father got stabbed, and the first thing you did after that was recording some motion-capturing and dialogue for a Turk recruitment hologram-video-thingy in an abandoned facility? It makes zero sense, but it’s my favourite protorelic mission and I’ll happily add it to my headcanon as a sign that Rufus gave Tseng his okay to recruit more Turks.

(The real answer would probably be automatically generated AI shenanigans, but that’s not very exciting.)

Viceroy Saruf. Just … Rufus, you’re such a cheeky idiot and I love you. Is there any faction in this world you’re not manipulating from the background? I can’t shake the feeling that being the man in the shadows suits you more than actually openly running the company.

Tseng and Reeve were great, I would love more little moments like that, where the Shinra folks just interact outside of action scenes and dramatic moments. The talk Tseng had with Reno and Rufus in Remake after the Sector 7 collapse hit the same note for me. I want more Reeve in part 3.

The scene between Tseng and Aerith at the temple made my eyes misty, but I wish it had been longer. Tseng keeping it short and abruptly leaving to "make a report" was perfect, and I know Cloud being so cold and cutting Aerith off fits his behaviour, but something about the timing just felt off.

I was surprised that Heidegger would take a bullet for Rufus. For President Shinra, absolutely, but Rufus? Hmm… This makes great fanfic material. I’ve read a fanfic before that tried to reimagine the Shinra executives (even Palmer) as more realistic people, and I found it to be really interesting, but then I’m a weirdo with plot bunnies in my head that involve a younger President Shinra, his wife, Veld, Vincent and the older Shinra execs.

I’ve never been a fan of Hojo but his R re-imagining is one of the few that doesn’t work at all for me. OG Hojo was far more unsettling. R!Hojo is just your typical mad scientist, I just can’t care about him, which is a shame, because him taunting Aerith in Remake with how he dissected Ifalna hit me hard.

I still haven’t quite grasped why Rufus is so obsessed with the Promised Land. It probably all comes down to wanting to be more successful than his father, right? I’m probably forgetting or mixing up details from Remake, Rebirth or the OG here, but I assumed that Rufus would outright dismiss it as a fairy tale.

Apparently there is a Midgar DLC for Power Wash Simulator. Square Enix, where is Hitman: Tseng and a version of Yakuza where I can play the Turks dealing with dumb crap doing missions in Midgar? Give us Shinra fans something, I'm still waiting for the EC version of Before Crisis. And I don't even like gacha mobile games. >:(

General game thoughts:

The open world is fantastic, I want to live in Gongaga or Kalm. So pretty. People online seem to hate the Gongaga map, but the soundtrack and the jungle theme made it work for me. I found the gliding parts in Cosmo Canyon far harder to navigate.

Shinra Manor is terrible with Vincent being it’s only redeeming part. The actual mansion looked great (the portrait of President Shinra was a nice touch) but the upper levels being inaccessible and turning it into another lab dungeon was boring. Same for the box throwing mini-game.

Dio the archaeologist turned body-builder is great, but Shinra knowing about the keystone and just not bothering to use it when President Shinra was looking for the Promised Land is a weird plot hole. It would have been a lot easier than trying to convince Aerith to come to them. There were some other little details like that, that bothered me but it’s a blur now.

Remake Barett made me into a Barret fan, Rebirth Nanaki into a Nanaki fan. The writers are genius when it comes to rewriting these characters from the OG. I’m not really bothered by Cid not being grumpy and swearing all the time. Him reminiscing about Ifalna was cute. Vincent using his old Turk skills (and having some lingering loyalty to the job?) was cool. Really looking forward to seeing how they’ll handle Lucrecia, the one character in FFVII I'm so conflicted about.

I’m still confused about Aerith’s death scene, especially the cuts where she’s lying in her own blood and then isn’t. I understand that she’s dead in her current reality, but is the scene without blood (and Aerith "waking up" in Cloud’s arms) Cloud’s hallucination or just a different reality? I’m also utterly confused by how many Aeriths we’re dealing with. The Aerith and Cloud we’re playing with and the sleeping Aerith (and Cloud) from the dimension where Zack lives are one and the same? It’s tying my brain into knots, and not in a good way. That’s why I usually can’t stand stories involving elaborate time travel loops or parallel universes.

(Man, why doesn't Tumblr allow spaces between paragraphs? I hope your eyes aren't bleeding)

I first played the OG as a young teen. Cloud’s mind being fractured and hallucinating was a neat bit of storytelling back then that I hadn’t encountered in video games before. Twenty years later, I’ve dealt with loved ones who are ill but refuse help, and known plenty of people who have some form of psychosis or schizophrenia. Whilst I would never seriously compare Cloud’s problems with rl mental illnesses, I found the scenes where he sees Sephiroth and no one else, or is completely out of it hard to stomach. Interacting with somebody who has hallucinations (even "harmless" ones) or paranoid thoughts is unsettling at best, nightmarish at worst. The group trying to passively bear it and keep things together rings very true (especially Tifa) but I’m surprised that even Barett or Yuffie aren’t trying to confront Cloud about his behaviour at least once.

(I tried to format in html, but it somehow looked worse. I'm old. This is how Vincent must feel like every day.)

Dyne, Myrna and Tseng talking to Aerith at the temple had me tearing up, and I lost it at Aerith’s "date" with Cloud in Ch. 14. Hoo boy, I know Aerith stalling off the inevitable just for a little time, was the game having a very direct conversation with the player about what’s going to come, death and how we deal with it. But to me personally, it was more about how one gets caught up in trauma and repeat it over and over in your head, mulling about the point of where things went wrong and what you could have done to prevent it. I know it doesn’t fit, but that’s what my weird brain made out of it. Also Dyne’s and Aerith’s (at the temple) speeches about how they deal (or didn’t) with grief and trauma hit me hard.

Damn you, silly anime action game, you really shouldn’t affect me this deeply, but then a lot of fiction hits me harder than it used to.

[elvisabutler]

we'll kiss just as before

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 1839 warnings: rutting against beds. dry humping so to speak. coming on thighs. breastfeeding kink. light sub elvis. light mommy kink. light dom reader. elvis is a selkie. bit of fingering kind of. use of the words mama. tiny bit of aftercare. brief mention of a rough pregnancy. author’s note: welcome to day 13 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, breastfeeding kink with selkie elvis presley x reader. fun time for context author's note. this takes place in an alternate 1978 where elvis is living his life with his wife, lisa and his now two sons. truth be told anything i write for this series of fics probably will always live in this au ending to elvis's life. probably dying maybe in the 90s/00s. in case anyone ever wants to request more from them even if it's fluff. i was supposed to write a piece before this that explains jesse's origins but time's gotten away from me lately so consider this me doing my normal shenanigan of writing out of order. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. beyond that long winded author’s note, special thanks to @stylespresleyhearted, @ab4eva and @prompted-wordsmith for being seal!!! at me always. also once again, i really do love how y'all liked this and received it and live to see your thoughts on my writing. and yes i did post these within an hour-ish of each other. because this has been finished for a while. also. divider by @/cafekitsune over here on tumblr.

In the time you've known Elvis— in that small window of his life— you've known him to be an insatiable sort of man. Not gluttonous, though he can err that way, but a man who allows himself to live life with an intensity that makes you proud to call him your husband. On bad nights you wonder what would have happened if your paths had never crossed again because of his skin or if they had never crossed when Anita had broken up with him. Those nights are few and far between though, soothed away with a stepdaughter who you adore, a son you carried in your belly for nine excruciatingly long months and a little baby boy adopted by a selkie who took one look at a little baby seal and told you that he was your son— told you it was God's way of providing the two of you with another child without the risk of your health. It's a blessing John was still young enough to be suckling at your breasts when you adopted Jesse. It's a blessing that at the young baby's cries your breasts rose to the occasion, swelling up like they did when John was a newborn, leaking at inopportune times and causing Elvis to laugh in sheer delight that his wife— his perfect seal wife— had so much milk within her breasts that it came out even when no one was there to catch it but him.

No, you've always known that Elvis is an insatiable sort of man, and nights like this remind you of it as you climb into bed, taking in the sight of him naked as the day he was born, glasses perched on his nose as he reads quietly. Your eyes roam over his body, watching his rounded stomach rise and fall, wetness from sweat or perhaps a shower causing the hair on it to stick to him reminding you that despite being a seal he's practically a bear when it comes to the hair on his chest and belly. You feel yourself clenching around nothing the longer you stare and yet you don't speak, don't put into words your thoughts even as Elvis starts to shut his book and glances over at you, eyes zeroing in on your breasts.

"They're still lookin' full," he murmurs, moving to set his book on the nightstand next to him. "He ain't eaten?"

Your hands move to take off his glasses as you shrug, hissing slightly as Elvis moves his hand against the fuller of your two breasts. "No, he's eating, but— not enough tonight. He's full, but so are they."

There's a question in the words you speak, a request for Elvis if he's willing to grant you it, but you hate the mere idea of asking for it. Sure, Elvis has done it for you before but— only when it's started to leak on his chest when you're pressed against him or when it's started to make a mess of the bed. Asking him outright tonight feels wrong and you feel a hint of embarrassment despite everything go through you. As if Elvis can sense it, his hand that isn't on your breast moves to cup your chin. "Darlin'. They ache, don't they?"

The answering nod you give him is slow and controlled before you exhale quietly. "They're gonna be hard as rocks before he wakes up again."

"You need more out of 'em, don't ya? Make it so it doesn't hurt so much in all that time." He says it as a question but you and him both know it's more of a statement than anything else. "I ain't gonna mind."

If you ask him to do it. You know that's what he's telling you and yet you can't help the way you bite at your lip and watch as his thumb brushes over your exposed nipple, a bit of milk dribbling out as he does. Without missing a beat he puts his thumb in his mouth and sucks it, his tongue swirling around the digit as he stares you down, blue eyes somehow containing every bit of the depths of the ocean in them. He's your husband, this is— this is what your insatiable husband is willing to do for you and you've been looking the gift horse in the mouth. After a moment, one of your hands moves to cup the underside of the breast his hand had been on as you speak.

"Can you please? Mama's— Mama's got all this milk and I can't— I can't sleep with them aching like this."

It's as if you've granted the man salvation when he looks at you through eyelashes that have charmed so many women. He hadn't planned sucking on your breasts tonight, truthfully but it was always a gift when he could. You've taken care of him since that fluke meeting when you didn't even know who he was. When you thought he was just a seal that gotten a handkerchief tied around him. With this act of allowing him to drink from your breasts he could take care of you and indulge in something that helped him sleep better than any pill ever had. You could take care of him just by letting him have the simple pleasure of sucking at your breasts. It's different than when he does it when you're not nursing, but even so there's an element that's the same. There's that element that has you squirming and clenching your thighs as he drinks milk that he shouldn't want.

He places his hand over yours, the warmth of it inadvertently making you shiver and causing your nipple to harden and you hear the shaky breath he takes as he just stares at it. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he shifts in the bed and places your nipple in his mouth.

"El— Elvis," you stammer out his name as his tongue runs across your nipple, teasing and only gathering the faintest of drops before he forms that little bit of suction with his lips. His suckling is gentle, knowing that he barely needs to pull for his little treat. Your relief is almost immediate though, your shoulders relaxing as you lean back against the pillows, hearing the soft sounds of his sucking and the sound of him swallowing every so often.

Sometimes you watch him when he sucks at you, cradling his head like a child. Those nights are the nights this action is purely for comfort and for the intimacy of being with one another without any of the children. Those nights are special and remind you that it's a bit of a fluke that you're a part of his life. They remind him how you're the perfect seal wife and how you came into his life at just the right time. The first time you met hadn't been perfect, hadn't been right, but the second time, this time was.

Nights like this though? Nights like this you find yourself with your head leaning back against the pillows, soft pants leaving your lips as your fingers thread through his hair and pull every so often. You've been aching in more than one way for Elvis and it shows in how after just a minute your thighs are clenched as you try and shift, only to be stopped by his chest and torso pinning you down with his bulk. You open your mouth to speak, to tell Elvis to pull away from the breast he's suckling on only to realize he's rutting against the bed. You hadn't known he needed this too. You hadn't known that you both had been craving this way of being together for what feels like forever even though it had only been a week.

A groan or a growl rumbles deep within Elvis's chest and you mirror it with a gasp as starts to suck harder, adding enough pressure that you can feel the throbbing in between your legs. Touching you would be ideal, feeling the calloused tips of his fingers against your clit would be ideal. Anything but a lack of touch would be ideal and yet you feel your arousal starting to ruin the panties you wear to bed. Words dance on your lips even as you tighten your grip on Elvis's hair, pulling him off your nipple with a small pop noise. Looking up at you with dilated pupils he uses his strength to pull his head back down to attack your other nipple. A whine leaves your lips unbidden as a fresh wave of desire courses through you and has you clenching around nothing and thrusting against his torso. Yet he doesn't stop, his lips still stay around your nipple, filling his mouth with your milk even as you look down and see some spilling from the sides of his mouth.

The look he wears is ravenous and you find yourself starting to thrust and move your hips to get any sort of friction. A whimper leaves your lips. "Please."

The sensation of Elvis's lips curling around your nipple into a smirk should have you pulling him off once again and yet you find that you just thrust once more. All that matters is chasing the high Elvis has started to bring you and somehow as your hand yanks at his hair again he finally takes pity on you. He doesn't bother to take off your panties, though, no, he merely takes one more final suck from your breast and shifts to allow himself to pin you down. The air feels as if it's been sucked out of your lungs when his lips meet yours, the sweetness of rogue breastmilk drops falling on your lips. Elvis is rutting against you, not bothering to enter you but the friction is enough, the feel of his bare cock brushing against your clothed vagina has your toes curling. One of your hands moves to his behind and as your release finally comes you grab his ass and squeeze, puling him in closer. His own release follows shortly after, painting your thighs with his cum. Flopping against you he takes deep breaths for a few minutes before finally speaking.

"Didn't— Didn't know ya needed me that bad," he jokes before nuzzling at you. "Didn't know ya needed that so bad."

Your words come out a little slurred as you feel your body starting to drift off to sleep. "Neither did I. Just— We needed that." Your tone, despite the slurred words leaves no room for argument. "Clean then sleep?"

Clean both of you off, then come to bed is what you mean but you know your little seal can translate from the way he moves to get off of you. He walks slowly to the bathroom and in the doorway of that room he looks back at you. You've already fallen asleep and it warms something inside of him to see you finally allowing yourself to relax.

"That's it, darlin', get you some rest."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08. if you weren't tagged it's not a slight. it's literally me copy and pasting from old tag lists.

[violetasteracademic]

Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow: Special post and readership vote!

My friends! @rae2velaris has done, in my opinion, the most magical and special thing that could possibly ever be done for this fic. She has created art for our sweet baby shadowhound Argus as well as the golden doe! When I tell you I cried, I say that with my whole chest. I will share the art down below and add it to the bonus art chapter on Ao3 here.

However, there is a request I'd like to make! While I was ruminating on how insane it is to me that more than two people (or more than zero, if we are being completely honest) are reading this fic, I've been trying to think of what I can do really express my gratitude from the bottom of my heart to thank the OG readers who have been coming back week after week and showering this fic with support and healing my cold, dead heart.

With that- our Golden Doe needs a name! Over the next day or two (let's say by 4/21), I would love to hear your suggestions, and then I will put it to a vote here on Tumblr so there will forever be that little easter egg for the readers that you guys chose our golden doe's name!

Here is the art, and I truly hope to hear all of your suggestions. Thank you for being on this journey with me!

Ps, I genuinely don't really know where the source traffic for the fic readership comes from. For all I know it is no more than five people on Tumblr and the rest just found it on Ao3. Sometimes when I'm chatting with you guys in the comments over there, I'm not sure if you are someone I also chat with on Tumblr but just have a different handle, or if GDiaVoS was just stumbled upon on Ao3. I hate to leave the amazing Ao3 readers out, but there's really no way to do something like this over there. I'll mention this in the notes in the new chapter I post tomorrow and update the notes on the bonus chapter, and do my best for anyone who wants to give a name suggestion a chance!

Thank you guys for making this so fun. I started writing this fic at I time that I really needed it for myself in my own life, and you have turned it into one of my greatest joys lighting up the dark. So truly, thank you. And I hope we come up with a sweet name for our girl!

[zhongster]

Top 10 genshin impact male characters burping list? ✨ 👀

Can you make a list of best burpers (male) of genshin impact? A tier list or a top 10 maybe?

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

Absolutely i can anon :))

I did a list before of just the characters in general so the top 5 are gonna be more or less the same

Post writing note: I didn’t elaborate too much on the top four since I had already done so on a previous post that I’ll link here

10. Tighnari

Not the largest burps on the list but in comparison to how small his frame is? He honestly made the list because of how disproportionate they are. They make his entire body jerk. His partial fox body really does a number on his digestive system.

Additional headcanons for him here

9. Kaeya

His normal burps are pretty average it’s his DRUNK burps that are something of note. He does not get embarrassed at all when he’s drunk of course.

Additional headcanons for him here

8. Thoma

The only reason he’s so low on the list is because I feel like he had a hard time actually getting the burps to come out. When they finally do they could probably rival some other members that sit higher on this list.

Additional headcanons for him here and here

7. Heizou

He’s such a small guy but I feel like him having these tiny little explosions feels so correct. They’re super short but very loud. They tend to startle people around him as well, especially since he feels absolutely zero embarrassment for them. He will let them out whenever he feels like it.

Additional headcanons for him here

6. Alhaitham

His burps are very long. He doesn’t typically get multiple back to back so they tend to be longer. They really just tend to keep going to the point where he sometimes runs out of breath in the middle of them. He does NOT like when they slip out in front of other people. Kaveh definitely teases him.

Additional headcanons for him here

5. Baizhu

He’s one I actually haven’t done headcanons for yet but I adore this man so deeply y’all do not understand. Since he canonically has chronic illnesses i firmly believe one of those illnesses is digestive. Aka my guy had GERD. His burps are super loud and super uncomfortable. They come straight from his chest and they HURT. He really doesn’t have very much control over them either. Most of the time he just has to turn away and cover his mouth, which also proves to be a challenge most of the time because his body only gives him about a second’s warning before one comes out. I think he’s dealt with this issue for so long that he really just rolls with it now. He excuses himself, sometimes laughs it off depending on the company, but he doesn’t get horrifically embarrassed like he may have in years previous.

4. Ayato

He’s another one that doesn’t seem like the type but given how mischievous he can be I think it fits. Plus he seems very prone to bloating. Very wet burps.

Additional headcanons for him here

3. Diluc

For him it’s mostly a hidden talent. He really would rather keep this talent to himself but sometimes he can’t help letting out the bassiest rolling belch, especially after he drinks which is partially why he doesn’t.

I have apparently never given him his own post despite him being my second favorite character in the game. That’s so insane I could’ve sworn I had. Just this small post apparently.

2. Itto

As i said previously this one is gonna surprise absolutely no one. Itto NOT having massive burps just feels wrong.

Additional headcanons for him here

1. Zhongli

I may be biased in saying that peepaw’s burps are earth shattering but i truly believe it so deeply in my heart you guys. Much of what I said in my top five post still rings true. He tries very hard to be polite but he really can’t help it sometimes.

Additional headcanons for him here

[thegayhimbo]

Say "I know nothing about the history of Russia's treatment of Ukraine (the Holodomor being one such example) or what's currently going on between Russia and Ukraine" without saying it. 🙄😒

For those who can't access the video due to the "age restriction," here is a transcript of the 60 Minutes interview with Scott Pelley interviewing Freed Ukrainian Prisoners of War:

SPOILER ALERT: The following video/transcript contains descriptions of beatings, torture, rape, starvation, child deaths, and human rights violations.

As for "Russia is not continuously bombing all civilian infrastructure and committing a genocide," there have been multiple posts and articles over the past 2 years proving otherwise (including their recent attack on New Year's Eve). This also includes the Russian war crime of Ukrainian children being kidnapped by Russian soldiers, deported to Russian reeducation camps, getting brainwashed, and being used as Russian Propaganda tools:

Between the 2:27 and 2:37 mark, Isobel Yeung (the narrator) doesn't mince her words when she notes how Vladimir Putin and his cronies are accused of trying to "ethically cleanse a generation of young Ukrainians."

If you've read this far, you can probably come to the conclusion that imtryingsir did absolutely zero research, or even cared enough to follow the last 2 years of news about the Russian-Ukraine War, before making their abhorrently idiotic comment.

So why am I bothering to dignify this with a response when it's clear this person is being maliciously stupid? Because of this post. Specifically, the disgusting little remark they made where they tried to justify why a Jewish woman on social media deserved to be bullied/harassed (which eventually led to the Russia apologist comment above when they were called out on it by multiple Tumblr users):

Putting aside the gross victim-blaming and thinly-disguised antisemitism (which I'm sure my Jewish followers are deeply sick of at this point), what really gets me is how disingenuous this user is. They don't actually give a rat's ass about what's going on in Gaza: Someone who truly cares about genocide and the deaths/suffering of innocent people wouldn't be going out of their way to downplay/whitewash the genocidal actions of another country (Russia), or making comments dismissing another groups problems/trauma while dehumanizing them, or even straight up wishing for more death and destruction:

People like this (as well as the so-called "Pro-Palestine" users in the Jewish woman's post who were harassing her) are devoid of empathy. They relish in being cruel and condescending to others because they feel empowered in doing so, and they know they can get away with it without facing lasting consequences. They are doing nothing to help alleviate an already horrific situation, and are just making the world a worse place to live in. I'm sure they'll tell themselves the sweet little lies about how their bullying and antisemitism is really "activism" or "caring for Palestinians" or "Being antizionist; not antisemitic" (while continuing to spew the same bigoted rhetoric that Jews have been calling out as antisemitic for YEARS). At this point, I truly don't give a damn what their excuses are since they will grasp at anything, no matter how flimsy, to rationalize their behavior.

I never thought I'd see the day where a bunch of Leftist/Westerners would embody two of the most loathsome fictional characters in media (right down to their hateful, sadistic, vile attitudes), and yet that is the point we've currently reached:

To say this has been deeply unpleasant to witness is an understatement. 😒

I talked about this in a recent post about antisemitism from the Left, and I'm going to reiterate something I said: "There is a larger conversation that needs to be had about how selective Leftist empathy and compassion really is. By this, I’m talking about people on the Left who will a.) Only be compassionate/empathetic when it’s convenient for them, or b.) Only be compassionate/empathetic towards people they think are “deserving” of it."

People like imtryingsir only prove why it's important to have this conversation: If you're perfectly okay dismissing/downplaying the suffering of one group of people (be it Jews, Ukrainians, Palestinians, etc) so you can prop up your preferred group of people who are suffering because you think they are more "deserving" of empathy/compassion......................you need to do some serious self-reflection about the type of person you've become.