#i swear i write fanfics guys

[asmo-d3us]

oh you want toxic rosekiller? alright!

barty and evan having a break up for the 10th time because their relationship is toxic and manipulative, and barty immediately goes back to sleeping with other students and being the flirtatious little shit he is, and evan gets jealous.

he feels extremely jealous and—in all honesty? he shouldn’t be. but barty (that arsehole) stares directly at evan when dancing with someone else, always stares at evan when flirting or kissing someone else. and you know what? evan can’t fucking take it anymore.

now listen, evan has never really done anything towards the behavior of the love of his life, but in 5th year at a slytherin party, he does.

barty usually goes for the same people at partys, just to make evan jealous and to make him think that he’s moved on completely, but evan knows better. and evan knows that whenever he wants to, he can easily take all those people as his. seduce them, kiss them, fuck them, and even ruin them. i mean, he is the casanova of slytherin (alongside crouch) after all, and barty knows that, but he thinks evan would never do such a thing.

well, he was wrong.

during this party, barty was—as usual—making out with men and women, grinding against people, being grinded against on, you get the gist. there was a tiny moment where barty went to get 2 cups of drinks for himself and this random female he was fervently making out with mere seconds ago, and evan took his chance immediately.

he approached the girl and began his usual tactics. pick up lines, flirting, winking, smiling, and even slight touches. when noticing barty making his way back over, you know what he did? he grabbed that girl by her neck, and he smashed their faces together. tongue and all, the usual; “colliding into one and fighting for dominance.”

he practically heard the way the ravenette’s jaw dropped, he nearly heard the way the solo cup in his hands fell and clattered down onto the cold floor, and it made him smile, it made him happy, it was almost like a “HAH, take this you bitch!”

and he did this repeatedly. over and over again with every single female, male, and person that barty would “hang out with” or “violently have sex with”. and sooner or later, barty had gotten quite enough.

i won’t dig too deep into the details, but let’s just say the whole week after that was filled with absolute VIOLENT intimacy. and none of them minded it, this was just how they were. this was how they worked, how they loved, and if anyone dared to say a word? they wouldn’t live to see another day!

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

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[a-most-beloved-fool]

My favorite part about writing fanfic is trying to match the way characters speak and think in writing. It's like a little puzzle. Like "he would not fucking say that" except it's shuffling around words and altering sentence structure until he WOULD fucking say that. You can hear him saying that in your head. It's so fun.

[matcha-binz]

🧸 . drabble mdni.

cute boyfriend beomgyu, loves being called pretty, loves when you push his hair behind his ear and call him your pretty boy. But he loves it more when you call him your slut. The nickname has him reeling, eyes rolling back, whimpering. Subby!gyu is smth i can't get over, especially in his long hair era, he'd love to get his hair pulled while you make him eat your out, humping the bed and shit, the sensation of his hair being pulled makes him let out the sluttiest, high-pitched whimper against your pussy. And you get off on it, honestly. Call him your slut, call him your fucktoy and watch him nod his head, whimpering and moaning dumbly, getting lost in the taste of your pussy.

drabble cute boyfriend beomgyu, loves being called pretty, loves when you push his hair behind his ear and call him your pretty boy. But he loves it more when you call him your slut. The nickname has him reeling, eyes rolling back, whimpering. Subby!gyu is smth i can't get over, especially in his long hair era, he'd love to get his hair pulled while you make him eat your out, humping the bed and shit, the sensation of his hair being pulled makes him let out the sluttiest, high-pitched whimper against your pussy. And you get off on it, honestly. Call him your slut, call him your fucktoy and watch him nod his head, whimpering and moaning dumbly, getting lost in the taste of your pussy.

"m-mhm! yes, baby, m' y-your slut! ah..." "N-no! keep going, p-please~... been a good boy please p-please let me cum..!"

also we have to bring up dacryphilia. I just know what a sight it would be, riding beomgyu, his hands pressed beside his head by your hands, having him weak underneath you as he lets out high pitched and whiney moans, hips bucking up into yours that were barely hovering over his, whimpering and stuttering out "p-please don't- ah! tease..." with tears sticking to his ridiculously pretty lashes.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I am always thinking TimJay thoughts related to the fact that they have matching scars from getting their throats slit, and not only that, but Jason slit Tim's throat first in an attempt to threaten Bruce, where Tim was nothing more than a pawn for Jason to use to emotionally manipulate Bruce.

batman (1940) #618

And then, just a little while later when Jason is trying to confront Bruce and do his whole dramatic moment with Joker in UTRH, and Bruce slits Jason's throat to stop Jason from killing the Joker.

batman (1940) #650

It makes me so Unwell. They have literal matching scars. When do you think Jason realizes it? When do you think, while running his fingers over the scar he has to always remind himself that Bruce was willing to jeopardize Jason's own life just to save the Joker, Jason realized it was the same scar *he* gave Tim? And does it click for him too, that he and Tim are a lot alike? Being used as pawns in Bruce's game? And for the first time he maybe understands Tim Drake, just another kid trying to get Bruce's attention and approval? And Jason did to Tim exactly what Bruce did to Jason? And that's part of what spurns on Jason's obsession with Tim, trying to "save" Tim from Bruce's ideology?

When they finally get together does it make Jason even more possessive? He put that mark on Tim and now he has his own to match. It's the closest to being understood and loved he's ever felt when Tim runs his fingers over Jason's scar at the same time Jason touches Tim's. Mirrors of each other, in a fun, fucked up little way.

[definitelynuwonhere]

“You Know I Don’t Hate You…Right?”

Y’all remember the Past/Present Anthology? Yeah well Guy’s audio suddenly came to mind and I came across a pinterest prompt that peaked the interest of my little goblin brain so I present you with this:

——————————

We all know how much of a personality Guy possesses, a personality that definitely walks the very thin strings of Honey’s tolerance. And while they’ve thrown around the words “I hate you” to his face countless of times, all of varying levels of volume, they can’t help but feel this guilt in their chest this time around.

They’ve never been the best at expressing themselves through words, and while Guy has gotten accustomed to this, they aren’t a mind reader, and he can pull off one hell of an act. They wouldn’t be able to know, if their words finally struck. And that scares them.

He would say something if it has gone far right? I mean, they act like that all the time, nothing unusual about it, I mean their entire relationship is built on sparing with words right? Right…

“You know when I say I hate you, I don’t actually hate you, right?”

their voice barely a whisper against his chest as they laid there, eyes staring into space.

He looked down to at them with a gentle smile.

“I know honey."

he murmured, chuckling as his arms tightened around them.

They sat up, “Y-yeah, but I just wanted to let you know, you know? Heh.."

“Hey, hey..”

He whispered softly, sitting up next to them. He took hold their chin, facing them towards him.

“I know..I know you, and I know how you are, I never take anything personally. Well, except that time you insulted my hair, that was uncalled for,”

He snickered, earning a laugh from them. He tilted their head up to look at him, and he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to their nose. “But I know you don’t hate me.”

They smiled back, relieved at what be said. They look back up at him, face turning smug as they sneered."I should though,"

He laughed, pressing his forehead against theirs, nodding. “Yeah, you should," He chuckled. He cupped their face between his hands, looking at them with such love in his eyes.

“And it makes me the luckiest bitch in the world that you can't manage to" he said, “I mean, the amount of times you could’ve probably knocked me out with your fist” he added, chuckling, earning a scoff from them.

He snickered, squeezing them into a hug and placing a kiss onto their shoulder. They let out a comfortable sigh and looked up at him with a gentle smile. “I love you.” Guy smiled back, leaning down and pressing his lips to there’s. As he pulls back, he leans his forehead against theirs, and then whispered back, “I love you too, Honey.”

First time drawing Guy 🍕 and Honey 🍯, This was fun

[mossfeathers]

Writing and art for day 16 of lifetober: Deal

Fic takes place in an AU by my friend Rose in which the rage crystal Scar gives Tango has a few strings attached. If you guys like this, I have more written I can polish up + post!! Word count: 1.3k TW/CW: Possession, panic attack (implied), swearing, villain Scar (not really a cw just a heads up)

“Tango, Tango, Tango, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” Scar said, voice low, not quite a growl but still menacing enough and grinning with the sort of happiness that wouldn’t end well for anyone else. His pale grey hair was long and a few of the more wild strands draped over his face, breaking apart the cutting gaze of his bright yellow eyes staring right through Tango.

‘Well not really, mister crystal-butt-man. Me and my crew back there were just coming by for a bit of enchanting-magic-funtimes and you were all ‘Ooh only Tango can come in’ and shooed my guys away. Jerkface.” Tango leaned back in the ornate wooden chair Scar had pulled up for him in front of the amethyst pedestal the enchanter usually sat upon, twirling the emerald-green crystal he had bought from Scar just a few days prior boredly in his ash-tinted fingertips. “But I’ll bite. Whaddya want, Scar?” Scar’s such a pain sometimes, honestly, Tango thought to himself. Always asking for this or that and another and never giving anyone the time of day, favoring selling you a clock over sympathy. Tango really wished he wasn’t stuck with him in the wizard hut, but it’d be rude to leave and he’d rather not tick off the one guy who had a knack for tracking down the enchanter.

“I’m so glad you ask! It’s all got to do with that little crystal you got there. It’s been working, right?” Scar said, leaning forward in his chair with a sick smile, crossing his hands under his chin. 

“Yeah?” He stopped fidgeting with the crystal and now let it dangle limply from a thin brown string looped on his fingers

Scar’s grin widened. “Excellent! Oh, I’m so glad to hear it! The custom rage crystal, if I remember correctly. Well, not to go full ‘Villain-Scar’ mode here, but I may have… let’s say neglected to mention a bit of fine print on that fine piece of merchandise. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t feel like explaining it so I’m just going to show you. Besides, I think you’d get the point more if you just saw it in action,” Scar said as he stood up from his own chair, grabbing the wooden cane leaning on it, bejeweled with an intricate laying of crystals and engravings of cats. Tango grimaced and laughed awkwardly, not quite sure what else to do.

“Hey buddy, you feelin’ ok?” Tango barely managed to get the words out before Scar had closed the distance between them, looming over him with unnerving authority.

“Ok Tango, I’m going to need you to stay very calm, alright? Ok?” Tango nodded along slowly, a pit of concern growing in his stomach. “Great! Now, I need you to go get me a diamond from Joel’s cave. I trust you know where that is, right? Bye!” Scar spoke quickly and excitedly, words bouncing with anticipation and playful malice.

Tango’s face dropped. He tucked the crystal into his pocket and made his way down the ladder and out of the wizard’s hut without a sound. This, in theory, was against his will, but his mind was just blank, like someone had smudged out all his thoughts as one cleans off a whiteboard after using it in school. There wasn’t a will left to defy, the only thing in his mind the faint ringing of an order, carried out dutifully by his body. His hair flickered weakly, fire somehow managing to glow less than it should. To someone who knew Tango, they wouldn’t have thought him to be himself, lacking a certain swing in his step so signature to himself. Once he reached the edge of the mountain, his dull eyes hardly glanced down as he walked off, stumbling off jagged edges and drops, scraping knees and elbows until he reached the front of Joel’s cave. By some miracle, he wasn’t home, and Tango dragged himself through the entrance and started to rummage around through a few chests, getting nicked by a spare sword left unsheathed in the wreckage, until he pulled out a diamond, sharp edges seeming to glow in the miserable afternoon’s light that flooded the cavern. His eyes sparked with something akin to recognition, and hardly a second later he was heaving himself up the cliff-face.

He stumbled through the door, breathless with a straight face, to Scar’s awaiting smile leaning against the wall next to the ladder going up to the enchanter, idly twirling his hair between his fingers. Scar extended his hand, Tango dropped the diamond in, and promptly collapsed; a puppet with its strings cut. His hair exploded upwards, flames licking the roof of the shop floor and body small as he took in heaving, gasping breaths. He was shaking, but more importantly he was back. His thoughts flooded back in, horrified and scared and screaming, desperate cries to get back into his own head swirling with relieved terror at release back into his mind, the flood of sudden information and emotion making him sick to his stomach. After a long, anguished moment, he looked up at Scar with furrowed brows, rage boiling over alongside tears out of bright red eyes.

“What the fuck have you done,” he growled, furious and terrified and helpless all at once as he stared with the most intense hatred he’d ever felt at Scar, stronger than Bdubs, stronger than the games themselves. His gold eyes just smirked down at him, glinting with the sort of mischievous malice he’d now learned to fear. Tango made a move towards the dagger he kept hidden in his back pocket, wanting nothing more than to bring him down to his knees, make him feel even a fraction of the anguish he felt rushing through his body, make him hurt.

“Oh, can you stop that?” Scar laughed, and Tango felt his hand freeze in place, that same complicit nothing washing over him in a wave of pure white nothing. “Would you mind getting up too? I don’t want the floor getting damaged, that stuff’s not cheap!” He stood up.

Tango was still shaking. Badly, in fact; he could hardly stand. But Scar had said he needed to stand, so he would. Scar hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time, as if this was just a joke, just a prank. Just a prank. The fact Scar hardly cared, didn’t think what he was doing, whatever he was doing, was a terrible thing made Tango want to tear him apart with his bare hands, limb from bloody limb. It filled him with such violent, earth-shattering rage Tango forgot about the crystal sitting in his pocket. It filled him with so much rage while he couldn’t do anything but listen when Scar started to speak again.

“So! Whaddya think? I’m proud of myself for that one, I mean who else would have come up with putting a control spell on a crystal? Genius, right? It’s really quite easy, to quote Mumbo. You’ve got questions, I’m sure, but I’m not quite qualified to answer them. I’m just your local wizard, after all. I cast the magic, not a clue how it works.” Scar sighed, a slight shrug in his shoulders. “I can try though.”

“Just tell me what the hell you’ve done to me.” Tango’s eyes were bright with fury, and he could hardly spit out the words through his throat thick with anger, voice cracking as he did so. “Now.”

“Were you even listening? Gosh, it’s a control spell, Tango. Simple, too. I just… say what I need you to do, and you listen! All tied to that little crystal you got in your pocket there. Rather convenient for me, you’re like my little helper! I really am sorry for not mentioning it beforehand, I just needed you to take the deal. Think of this as a good thing! We’re very lonely here in the wizard hut after all, and I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” Tango didn’t do anything but bore into Scar’s soul with his burning eyes. “I apologize for any discomfort, can’t do anything about that I’m afraid. Oh, and don’t mention this to your little crew, okay?”

Tango just stared at Scar, and he only walked out when Scar said he could.

[bunnytrapsz]

My lovely fanfiction writers NEED (i beg you 🙏🏻) to write something sweet that will rot my teeth, give me diabetes and make my head spin with the sexinness that exudes from Sukuna finding his past lover and they recognize each other and it's just like,

"In a different life or where I recall, I mean he was Adam, I think I was Eve, but my vision ends with the apple on the tree..."

Please tell me you guys fell me rn 😭

[queeniesblog]

Hello everyone!

Sorry for going inactive for so long- had to deal with some heavy stuff I couldn't predict and a wombo-combo of school and work have been dog-walking the heck outta me. But I am still planning to release more fanfics about Z and Carmi- so enjoy some teasers of the works I have planned!

Warning(s)!: NSFW Topics

'Carmi lustfully gazed over Z's restrained body. Sweating, flustered and grinning with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Well, she thought that he was grinning at least. It was somewhat hard to tell, with the muzzle strapped on his face and all. Oh well. He should have listened to her warnings. It was his fault that he thought that she was joking around when she very much was not.

"This is serious human…" Z licked his lips with a quick swipe as if he was a dangerous predator looking at a particularly juicy piece of prey. The darkness of the room made the fiend’s eyes seem even brighter than usual as they fixated on the woman above him. Carmi felt a thrill at the thought of that. "Don't start anything you're not willing to finish."

"Oh don't worry Z. I'll be able to start it, finish it and do it all over again." Carmi replied in a honey sweet tone. "It's about damn time someone knocked you down a peg or two.'

-Teaser for the Fanfic: 'Hunted, Taken and Loved'

:......................................................................................................................:

'Carmi felt a sweet and soft kiss on her forehead, filled with love and bringing forth a emotion that she did not know the name of. A mixture of tenderness and deep loneliness began to pour into her heart, clouding her judgment. Before she was even aware of what she had done, Carmi embraced her husband from behind. The human woman buried her face into his warm back, and wrapped her hands around their rising chest, placing them on his heart. She could feel it beginning to race at the sudden contact. Was he also caught off guard from the unanticipated touch?

"Do you… must you leave so early, my Lord?" Carmi hesitantly asked. She could also feel her heart beginning to increase it's pace as the woman forced each word out. "The sunrise hasn't even begun yet. Can you truly not stay for a few more minutes…?"

'Just a little bit longer.' Carmi begged. 'Just a little longer and I shall ask for no more.'

But deep down, she knew that she was lying to herself. She didn't want her husband to leave again when the night would eventually turn into day. The house was too big, too empty without his presence in it- and Carmi despised the feelings of loneliness that would come whenever she would turn around to tell Z something, only to realize that he wasn't there.'

-Teaser for the Fanfic: 'Bride of Mania'

:...................................................................................................................:

'The first week was fine- great even. Nothing had really changed between the pair of lovers(or rather, nothing she could really notice). They continued their normal routine without much change and Carmi was grateful for that, the lack of any surprises lulling her into a false sense of security. That was until the later half of the second week, where she was hit with the intense desire to be intimate with her boyfriend again.

It was then that she realized why this challenge was, well- a challenge. The closer the woman got to her end goal, the more and more Carmi's thoughts would shift towards him- towards Z. Thoughts about him fucking her anywhere that looked like it would be semi plausible: their bedroom, the couch, the hallways…. it didn't really matter where. The fiend wouldn't even have to ask her, she just wanted to feel him again. Feel him tearing the clothes off her body and grinding his cock inside her, inserting himself right where he belonged. Feel the warmth of his body, the whispers of praises on his lips, the shutter of pleasure as they finished inside her… Carmi bit her lip. Hell, he didn't even need to fuck her at this rate- she missed the feeling of his harden cock in her mouth as well. Oh, how Carmi loved to hear Z's reaction when she would trace her tongue over his throbbing veins only to then suck his sensitive head. It had been on of her favorite ways to get Z off.

Carmi knew that she could complete the challenge as long as she did not ask the demon for sex. But with each passing day, her desires grew ever stronger. The urge to plead with Z to give her another taste of paradise was growing to become unbearable, and Carmi didn't know if she could handle this much longer.'

-Teaser for the Fanfic: "To Nut, or Not To Nut"

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[elitheguitarguy]

I wrote this Payneland Fic!! It’s basically 3k words of poetic yearning, misunderstandings, and Charles being a dumbass!! If that interests you then you should totally read this.

[paul-ster]

What did the Minecraft skeletons do?!

They kept jumping my ass in Minecraft. 😡

[tojiscrack]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! ♥️ u deserve everything and anything in the world!!

i’m inverting sisnsisbshs

thank you pookie biscuit 🤭

[parasitic-anomaly]

i totally didn’t forget about this au i have no idea what you’re talking about

[necrotic-nephilim]

Please infodump about the JayTimSteph Grotesquerie AU WIP if possible.

OF COURSE i've been thinking about it since i saw the trailer and now it's a little brainworm. (disclaimer i've not watched the first two episodes yet, this is like. solely on the vibes of the trailer. some details might change once i. watch the show depending on if i follow it or just go with the vibes the trailer gave me. which also means there will be no spoilers for the show if you care about that.)

the current idea involves Detective!Tim, Nun!Steph, and Priest!Jason. the vague idea for the plot so far is that a serial killer leaves a *very* artful display of a crime scene inside of the church that Jason and Steph operate out of. Tim is assigned as the leading detective on the case and ends up in a relationship with the both of them as he spirals in madness trying to catch the killer.

for Steph, i want to explore the idea of her father, Cluemaster, being a *very* prolific and artful serial killer who's whole gimmick was sending clues to the police until he was caught when Steph was still a child, and her and her mother were forced to go into witness protection for their own safety, which led her down the path of becoming a nun. it was a defining childhood moment for her to walk in on one of her father's crimes, so when she's the one who finds the crime scene in the church, it *immediately* sends her back to her childhood and she's caught between PTSD-fueled horror and a sick, enticing fascination. she wanted to become a journalist before going into WITSEC but that career was basically all but ruined for her. now she runs the small newspaper for the church and is desperate to write on the first "real" story she's ever had, dragging her into an intense obsession over the crime and trying to prove she can solve it.

for Jason, i want to deal with his history as Bruce. the current idea is that Bruce is Tim's police chief who adopted Jason and Dick from a young-ish age and raised them to be detectives, taking them to crime scenes as teenagers and teaching them the ins and outs of how criminals think. it leads to Dick becoming a detective, but when taking them to crime scenes led to Jason being kidnapped and brutally tortured by "Jack Napier", almost dying. Dick kills Napier to save Jason and it fractures their little family so badly that Dick switches departments to another city and Jason runs away at 17, eventually happening upon joining the clergy. he's the new, young priest in the church who's known for being very pretty but very emotionally distant even if he's nice enough. and he's *pissed* that Bruce is in his church investigating a murder and that no matter where Jason goes, he can't seem to get away from the horrors.

and for Tim, he's the young new detective in his department who is *entirely* unaware that he's been taken under Bruce's wing bc Bruce is treating him as a surrogate replacement for Dick and Jason. haven't fully decided his backstory yet, but it'll likely be similar to canon with losing his mother and father. i kind of want him to be lost and lacking a sense of direction. very gifted in noticing patterns and detective work, but it's clear he doesn't *really* want this job. and when he's assigned as the lead on a case that feels *way* too big for his experience bc Bruce is showing clear favoritism, he's forced to go to Steph for help, which leads to Jason ending up wrapped up with them too.

despite how heavy the plot *sounds*, i honestly want this fic to be like. 40% porn. like the show i want to explore a lot of fucked up sexual interests in Jason who's punishing himself for it, Steph being too interested in things for her own good and desperate for a taste of what "real life" feels like, and Tim just being incredibly repressed. like i want the line between horror and erotic to feel like a jumprope. lots of fucked up sex balanced with like. them actually trying to catch the killer. and then of course the emotional aspect of how Jason's baggage with Bruce works into all of it. also want Tim to have a mild hero worship for "the great Detective Dick Grayson" while being clueless that he's Bruce's son and Jason's brother. i sort of want it to be Steph-centric, but still have POVs from Tim and Jason just to round out their emotional arcs. i haven't fully decided everyone else who'll be in the fic but i know i want Cass to be a fellow nun and friend of Steph's, Babs to also work at the church, Helena to be Tim's favorite coworker, and possibly for Damian to be around somehow. those roles will probably get more fleshed out when i. watch the damn show tho.

anyway TLDR: religious imagery, body horror, kinky sex, and a mystery that might break everyone psychologically once they get to the bottom of it. i have some very specific scenes and dialogue planned out. probably cannibalism as a metaphor for love thrown in there too. idk i just want these three to be as fucked up as possible and unhinged about each other but fighting their repressed side with their unhinged feral side. and since it doesn't exist by god I'll create it.

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

What are your favorite Chase moments from the show so far?

Just like with Zuma's post, it's in no specific order, I just really loved all these moments

That first Mission PAW episode when the Princess chose specifically HIM to be the watch dog and guard her crown. That was so adorable I can't even. He seemed so genuinely proud and happy there! Plus he's so damn cute wearing that tux lol

When they were going to rescue Skye and Chase was so worried upon hearing that she was the one in need of rescue. Then when Ryder was choosing which pups would be part of the rescue, that moment he was like "Pick meee pick meeee-"?? That was so cute, he really cares about her and wanted to impress her so bad lmao personally make sure she would be safe (Bonus points for his excitement over being picked for the rescue and everyone else like Go ahead king, we all know you wanted this XD)

The entire time he spent with the owlet and working to rescue the mama owl from that fallen tree. It was so sweet!! The fact I also love owls surely didn't help AUSHAUSHAUSHAU I love that episode SO MUCH

That moment when he finally turned into a Merpup. Poor boy was so fixated on "being on duty" despite wanting SO BAD to go and participate in "the fun". And he couldn't even enjoy being a merpup immediately because he was transformed just because he needed to swim faster for the rescue but he was so overjoyed anyway! Only after that mess, he could go and finally have the fun he wanted and deserved so much.

That moment in the first Sea Patrol episode when he and Skye were left behind at the beach while the rest of the team went on the first mission with the Sea Patroller. His face upon SEEING the HQ turn into a ship and sail away was just priceless XD (Also it's rare to see Chase being put on the sidelines for once lmao)

The first Ultimate Rescue episode!! God, Chase was SO HAPPY. He's THE Police Pup, he gets to lead the mission, supervise, plan, give orders. And the way all the other pups clearly loved the experience and were SO ON BOARD with being Police Pups with him, it was just awesome!

So far these are my favorite moments! Actually I legit just got to watch this first Ultimate Rescue episode like one hour ago. Not to mention it took me five days to think of these moments and then go find the episodes again to take the respective screenshots XD