#i think sometimes he just needs to go outside.

[theglamorousferal]

Team Phantom - Extended Edition

EbonyDarkness - Hey freeloaders, I found some options for us. ping so I know I have everyone’s attention

PollyPocket - here because we legit just narrowed these down together

AmityUnsolved - Here!

IToldYouSo - here, hoping for one close to public transit

TaeKwanDo - same buddy

DashingDash - hey, i’m gonna be paying some sort of rent whether you like it or not, I’m no freeloader.

PharaohTuck - i on the other hand am gladly claiming the title

AStarIsBorn - here but lurking, I’m getting ready to go out tonight

IShotFirst - same, but also paying attention so I can roast these places if need be

SpaceCase - I’m hoping for a place that directly crosses a leyline, then I can put a door to the gz in a closet

IToldYouSo - dude what even is your powerset

SpaceCase - come over sometime and I’ll show you the updated files, honestly we should probably all meet up in the ops center soon, it’s been too long

EbonyDarkness - agreed, we can plan that later, for now we have our options

EbonyDarkness - option one is the most customisable. It’s a block of apartments with a courtyard in the center 

EbonyDarkness - it is however in a place known as Crime Alley

PharaohTuck - um how about no

PollyPocket - we could invest in a really good security system

PollyPocket - fenton, wouldn’t your parents be able to make a shield to go around the place?

SpaceCase - uh probably, but I’d rather we stay off the radar of the local vigilantes as long as possible

SpaceCase - plus isn’t there a whole ass crime lord that runs that place? 

IToldYouSo - I still say he’s the second Robin

EbonyDarkness - FOCUS!

EbonyDarkness - option two is an old hotel with a restaurant on the first floor and a pool on the tenth

EbonyDarkness - we would be purchasing it from the Penguin however

PollyPocket - he’s said he’s gone straight and has been for at least a year according to the articles I had wes look up for me

PollyPocket - thank you again for that @IToldYouSo 

IToldYouSo - no problem, anytime really, just ask

EbonyDarkness - moving on

EbonyDarkness - option three is my personal favorite

EbonyDarkness - it’s a large manor with a few acres of land

EbonyDarkness - it’s on the outskirts of Gotham proper though, so we’d have to drive into the city

EbonyDarkness - we’d be purchasing it from Timothy Drake-Wayne and be neighbors with Brucie Wayne

EbonyDarkness - mom actually tipped me off to this and got me Tim’s number because she remembered hearing him complain about needing to sell the place at a gala she recently attended

PharaohTuck - Sam.

PharaohTuck - Are you telling me you have Tim Drake-Wayne’s personal cell phone number???

EbonyDarkness - please don’t be weird about this

PharaohTuck - I will try my best. My vote is the manor.

PharaohTuck - I’m going to go scream now.

EbonyDarkness - we don’t have to vote just yet, I’m gonna put all the details in the drive

EbonyDarkness - there were some weird stipulations for the manor too

EbonyDarkness - he wanted to be able to still store the artifacts his parents had collected until he could find proper homes for them and warned us not to explore the caves under the mansion, that there was a gas down there or something

DashingDash - kinda sus ngl

TaeKwanDo - I mean, he probably wants to preserve his parents' stuff, didn’t they both die in really shitty ways?

AmityUnsolved. - According to the news reports I found, yeah, it wasn’t great.

SpaceCase - looking at the map we were able to put together of magic sources around Gotham it looks like all three of these places are close enough to certain ley lines or thinning of the veil that I can safely have a door to the gz without needing an outside source of power

EbonyDarkness - sick

EbonyDarkness - I put all the info in the drive, everybody research it, we can vote on it when we meet up

EbonyDarkness - I’m thinking this friday night? anybody busy?

SpaceCase - barring ghost shit I’m good

PharaohTuck - I’ll be there.

PollyPocket - I’ll bring sodas! No offense fenton, but I don’t trust anything in your house

SpaceCase - none taken

IShotFirst - If someone wants to pick me up from work and help me haul it, I can bring Nasty Burger for everyone

DashingDash - I can grab you once I’m done at the shop

IShotFirst - sounds good to me, I’m off at 6

DashingDash - bet

TaeKwanDo - could somebody pick me up after my shift at the shelter? I’m off at 4

AmityUnsolved - I can pick you up if it’s okay with Wes that we start and end a bit early for this week’s podcast?

IToldYouSo - I’m cool with that

EbonyDarkness - Cool, so 6:30 at earliest at FentonWorks this friday

Amity Parkers moving to Gotham for college. Sam and Paulina pooling their trust funds together to buy an abandoned hotel and fitting it as apartments for everybody. They all train together in the courtyard to keep their skills up and just because it's fun. Suddenly an influx of super competent self-trained (or maybe ghost-trained) young adults.

Everybody having their little niches and suddenly they all have more free time that's not being taken up by ghost attacks so many of them started different YouTube channels with info they found out from the ghostly residents of Amity. Star and Paulina running a history of beauty channel going over makeup, hair styles and fashion, special guest Sam when going over alt fashions. Dash and Kwan running one on the history of sports. Wes and Mikey running a conspiracy theory podcast. Valerie running a martial arts channel. Danny just info-dumping about space and spacecraft in videos that range from 45 minutes to four hours. Tucker running a how-to channel for fixing tech and coding. Sam running a combination true crime and witchy channel. The Trio running a Let's Play channel.

Ghostly things happening in all of the videos and everybody guesting on everybody else's channels leads to everybody thinking it's all an elaborate ARG. Danny just floating through the walls half-asleep with a glowing shaker bottle in the background. Some of them when they're in the middle of a rant seem to forget to take a breath or their eyes or freckles start glowing. On a livestream Paulina snaps at somebody off screen and her eyes are suddenly glowing green. Danielle pops in during a charity livestream that the Trio are running and calls Danny-Daddy, Sam-Mom, and Tucker-Dad and is just floating on the back of the couch. Danny doing a stream to watch a rocket take off and suddenly a robe and crown flash and he disappears in a flash of green and the stream is just dead space until the rocket's about to take off and Danny comes running in and jumps over the back of his chair to watch it and cheer.

[mintmatcha]

obsessed with kirishima in that new sero series ngl,,, if you ever want to or decide to write, i'd love to hear abt kirishima and reader hanging out- or just how they are with each other. how they became friends etc etc

anyways,,, how have u been miiiint how's it going ;w;

on her knees, his mom smoothed his hair down one day and told him he had to be friends with the girl across the hall. the city was still half built from after the war, his own cuts healed, yet pink.

"you're such a sweet boy," she mumbled, with a kiss on the forehead. "go be sweet."

and so, he was marched over, box of sweets in hand.

"i'm eijiro-" he uses his given name when you answer the door, instead of the family one labelled outside their door. "my mom made these for you."

You don't reach out to take the box. he's afraid you're about to back up and close the door when you shake your head.

"you d-didn't need to do that," you whisper, ducking away from eye contact. Oh, he thinks. That's why his mom sent him over here.

"it's cool!" He pushes the box forward and you gingerly take it, "My mom loves to do stuff like this."

You bow, just a dip of your head, and Kirishima gets a view into the apartment. It's smaller than his family's, with the living room right by the front door and the walls glossed with pink posters. There's a bookshelf packed with figurines and manga.

"whoa." Kirishima gapes. "your parents much really like anime."

"Oh, uh-" You shut the door a bit, trying to block his view. "I-it's just me. I like anime."

"Your parents let you decorate the apartment? That's so cool."

"no, it's just me." You still can't meet his eye. "My parents live out in the country side and it's too far away from my school."

It's not uncommon for students to get apartments near their high schools, but Kirishima thinks it's a strange choice for something as skittish as you. Living by yourself, in the middle of the city, while they rebuild it all: he doesn't know if he could do it.

"That genius school down the road?" Kirishima points in the (probably incorrect) direction. It's not UA, of course, but it's just as competitive to get in. "You gotta help me with math sometime-- I'm drowning."

For the first time, you smile.

"I am not a genius," you say. "But I can take a look."

-

Thursdays turn into tutoring sessions. You're a year behind him in school, but a year ahead of him in math, which makes you a tough grader. Kirishima thinks that you might actually be a genius sometimes. His mom pays you in warm meals, his dad irons your uniform for you when he has the time.

It fills the gap leaving the dorms left in his social life.

"don't you get lonely?" he asks one night, sitting in the middle of your apartment. the faucet leaks, a constant, drip, drip, drip, that your dad promises to fix the next time he can make the train ride over. "your friends from school never come over."

you've scribbled little Xs across your piece of scrap paper, each one tiny and dark, drawn with a shaking hand.

"yeah," you say, "it's okay. they're just busy, i guess."

[thrashkink-coven]

“Will my practicing demonolatry affect my loved ones and friends?”

This is one of the most common questions I hear from beginners, especially from those who are still in the broom closet and live with conservative or religious people. Will reaching out to Lucifer or Bune affect the people around you, either negatively or positively?

The simple answer is yes. The complicated answer is still yes but not in the way you think.

Although it is probably very possible, I’ve never had anyone close to me report having dreams about or seeing my demons/deities when I work with them. Your demons for the most part will not make their relationship with you known to outsiders. People have however, parroted direct quotes from my demons, or acted in accordance to what they say.

Is it a coincidence that my partner is suddenly obsessed with me and wants to be intimate after I invite Lilith or Astaroth into my space? Is it a coincidence that he suddenly wants to talk about music theory after Prince Cerberus asks me to study the power of sound?

When Leviathan tells me the winds are changing, and my partner absent mindedly says he feels like starting a new project, I can silently affirm that message.

Demons more often than not, communicate with us through our mundane lives. The people around you will not know that they are being used to deliver messages and lessons to you. My roommate isn’t aware that Lucifer is teaching me the power of empathy when she suddenly comes to me with her problems and needs a friendly ear or support. When I go to my altar and express to Lucifer that I feel ugly and unloved, and my boyfriend comes home with a bouquet of roses and tells me how beautiful I am, he doesn’t know that Lucifer is working through him, but I do.

Likewise, if my parent is being abusive or mean to me, I can’t say that my demons won’t cause some misfortune upon them. If my coworker is giving me a hard time, I won’t be too surprised if Lucifer reports that they’ve been fired or got demoted. The people who interact with you will be interacting with your demons as well, and because those demons are there to protect you first and foremost, it is very possible that those people will be seen as a threat or obstacle and dealt with or removed.

Sometimes demons give us adversaries to push us towards action. My boss being a major dick while quoting Belial: “If the work must be done, it should be done now”. Might just be the push I need to quit this dead end job and find something better. When that toxic family member is parroting every intrusive thought Lucifer told me not to listen to, maybe it’s time cut them off and find a better family.

Now, this doesn’t mean that you have to live in fear that every negative interaction you have with people will result in their lives being ruined. Demons aren’t here to destroy all of your relationships. But it also shouldn’t be too surprising when things do happen.

If you’re looking for signs that your demon is near you, pay attention to the subtle signs that show up through your interactions with others.

[magalidragon]

🏒 the deal 🎶 | “Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know how you ever lived without them.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @youwerenevermine! 🥳🥰😘🤗🎂🎈🎊🎁 Okay fine whatever so I am a few hours your time early, but I was so excited to share and honestly, the world is going to end soon and I wanted to get ahead of the game. I went back and forth over what to do for you and couldn’t decide so went with this. The original hockey boyfriend Mr. Garrett Graham and sassy Hannah Wells! It is Jonerys meets THE DEAL! I hope you like it! So grateful to this fandom for introducing me to you! Love you bby! 😘

There was a very strong possibility Jon Snow had made a terrible mistake making this deal with Daenerys Targaryen. He figured it was easy enough; she was a smarty pants and could help him get his grade up in what was supposed to be an "easy A" philosophy class and keep him from getting benched. In doing so, he'd pretend to date her and the guy she had a crush on-- fucking Robb, his own damn cousin-- would see her as a bit more than weird silver-haired purple-eyed Dany and want to ask her out. Since Robb wanted anything he couldn't have-- particularly if Jon had it first.

Now he was watching Robb openly flirt with her and was squeezing his beer bottle so hard he figured he'd be benched not for his shitty philosophy grade but for having to get stitches in his stick hand. It was supposed to be an easy quid-pro-quo. A deal. Started off more annoying than anything else-- Dany could not have cared one single snowflake that he was Queen Alysanne University's star left winger and frequently let him know it. He honestly appreciated it, even if he had to really wear her down, chasing her all over Winterfell to get her to concede.

That had honestly been fun. Then there were their random long conversations after studying. Topics ranged from the best pizza toppings-- pepperoni and more pepperoni for him, while she saw nothing wrong with pineapple on her pizza-- to the best Marvel movie-- he didn't mind that movie about 'The Eternals' while she thought it sucked and liked 'Ant Man' more, all the way over to which House of Commons member should win the two highly competitive ridings near Winterfell or who really won the War of Five Kings?

He also had admitted to her some things he'd never shared with anyone. That he might be the aloof "Ice Man" of QAU hockey who could get any girl he wanted, he actually played that image outside of his truly private life. In reality he just couldn't think of girls, he was too busy trying to do his best to keep his grades up to get a very difficult degree in metallurgy and cultural anthropology while also making sure he didn't lose his rookie contract with the Winterfell Wolves professional hockey team.

Just like he knew all she wanted was to get the bonus money from the School of Drama and Music's winter showcase to help with her mother's medical bills, back in Pentos. That her dream was to sing on stage at the King's Landing Opera House.

All of that swam in his head, those conversations and late nights, sitting out in the quad on a blanket while she quizzed him on long dead Maesters, or that time she'd come to one of his games and he'd scored a hat trick, so she ahd to come to every singel one afterward.

He had done his job; he talked her up to Robb. He lingered in the living room of his and Robb's shared house when they would talk, just in case there needed to be extra prodding. Now they were on a bloody, fucking date.

"Jon, buddy, let go of the beer. The beer didn't do anything to you. Come on man, there you go." His friend and other roommate, Satin, carefully pried his fingers off the glass neck, moving the bottle to the oak bartop. "Alright, so when are you going to tell her?"

"Huh?" He was now glaring at the back of Robb's stupid auburn head, wondering if he could cut off those fucking curls while he was sleeping and blame their fourth roommate Theon. "Tell her what?"

"That you're in love with her, you dipshit."

Thank the gods he wasn't holding the beer bottle because he'd have definitely dropped it. He also was glad he didn't have any beer in his mouth, because that would have been sputtered everywhere as he gaped at Satin, who was now studying his fingernails nonchalantly. "Wha...what...I'm not....she's a friend! She wasn't just a friend, she was...Dany.

Dany, whose first words to him were: "I'm sorry do I know you?"

Dany, who always tied her long silver braids up on her head in a knot using pencils. Who hummed random song llyrics and chords and scribbled them on ltitle pieces of paper. Who had a voice that sounded like fucking angels from teh rafters. Who snorted and cackled when she laughed. Who called him "Wolf Man" instead of "Ice Man" because he had a wolf back home and one tattooed on his arm.

Dany....Dany who always smelled like lemons and lavender and who...

He blinked. It was like seeing everything under a different filter. Brighter. Across the bar, he watched Dany laugh at something Robb said, but it didn’t meet her eyes. She was playing with the silver guitar pick she used, something he had learned was a nervous habit. Her eyes— vibrant, happy lavender— did not fully meet his, but he knew she had glanced his way.

Gods. Was he in love with her? Was that what this feeling was? He couldn’t love her. He had to focus on hockey and studying and…it was just easier to keep that other side of him out there. If Jon Snow actually found a girl…a music major who didn’t know a deke from a slapshot and thought there were quarters not periods…he’d never hear the end of it.

He didn’t care. He didn’t want her with Robb. “And why is that?” Satin asked.

Fuck he said that out loud? “Because she’s mine,” he snapped. He paused. “No she is her own person of course I don’t own her obviously but…” He drained the beer bottle. This was one thing Robb was not going to steal from him. He stomped over to their table and didn’t even wait for his cousin to say anything before he glanced at Dany. “Get your coat, we still have to finish that Agatha show.”

She cocked her head up, confused. “Jon what…”

“Come on.”

“Jon,” Robb began, but he didn’t even have time to finish. Jon grabbed Dany’s hand, tugging her away and towards the back corridor. “What the seven hells Jon!”

If she wanted to fight him, she could. He’d let her anyway. Dany did not pull very hard and protested over Robb’s loud complaining. “Jon seriously what the fuck are you doing?!” She pushed at his chest when he tugged them into the stairwell that led up to the bar manager office, the dim lighting throwing her face in relief. She was fuming. She was a dragon, he expected it. “What was that!?”

“I want to see something.” He didn’t wait for a response. He had to do this. So he crashed his mouth down over hers.

The shock had her gasping, lips parting under his. Soft, plump, perfect lips, and he pressed gently, his hands dropping to her small waist to hold her upright against the wall. She had her hand on his shoulder and for a second he didn’t think she was going to kiss back and made to pull away, apology at the ready, knowing he had fucked this up completely.

Until her hands dove into his hair and she opened her mouth wider, moaning and pulling him to her. He groaned, desperate now, a man who had his first taste of water after wandering a desert, and cupped her jaw, angling her head so he could rise over her, sliding his tongue along hers. Gods. She tasted like strawberries. How!? One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

The need for air separated them, their breathing ragged and foreheads touching, noses brushing. Her gaze lifted, meeting his. “I take it you don’t think I should see Robb?”

He shook his head, whispering, “Come home with me. I’ll make you a deal.”

“And what’s that?”

He kissed her again, nipping her bottom lip. Her breasts were pressed to his chest and his knee had wedged itself between hers. They were about ten seconds away from a public indecency charge. His voice dropped, gravelly. “You come home with me and I’ll make you come within ten minutes. Five, even.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “And what do you get out of this deal?” she asked.

He pretended to think, before flashing a grin. “The knowledge I made you come. Oh and, our next movie night you don’t wear underwear.”

She smirked now. “I am not one of your puck bunnies.”

“And you know I don’t do puck bunnies.”

After a second, she barely nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got Wolf Man.”

“So it’s a deal then Targy?” She hated that nickname. The glare she shot him had him grinning.

She pulled at his hand, towards the back exit. “It’s a deal.”

[howlsofbloodhounds]

personally i think color has way too much integrity to go undercover as a spy he's gonna out himself after some time (although killer might cover for him a bit). however, now i'm thinking of people who can be undercover inside nightmare's gang of hooligans. fiest thought when i think of hooligan is delta, which is just... no 💀 he'll break his cover after five minutes. epic might be an interesting one - he's very chaotically good and doesn't have much qualms with violence himself.

the funniest option is fresh honestly. he has an amicable relationship with core frisk, who might have qualms with nightmare (or not - there's not much interaction or overlap between the two there). although, would be funny if fresh goes undercover because nightmare sometimes allies with error, who definitely has beef with core (why are bad sanses having beef with children this is embarassing 😭🙏).

That’s precisely why i think it’d be funny watching color struggle to go against his integrity 💀. Little bro gonna have to walk a hardline between the truth and the lie and he gonna have to keep his story straight.

I think his biggest issue would be the whole hurting people though, spreading negativity part. It’s probably become extremely obvious the toll it takes on him, even if his hand is eventually forced and he has no choice but to hurt.

When push comes to shove and there’s seemingly no other option, Color has shown to be able to kill—such as with his AU’s human—but here i think he’d struggle a lot. In most other cases, his choice to use violence was always for a reason (punching Undyne) or against an enemy who has proven that they won’t stop until they’re truly dead (the human.)

Thankfully he doesn’t really have to kill, because Nightmare needs victims alive. Perhaps Color earns his spot by preventing Killer from killing, since he does have enough strength and power to overpower Killer before Stage 4 factors into the equation.

Which would make an interesting dynamic if Nightmare assigns Color to be like, Killer’s handler or something… 🤔 Perhaps this is how Color comes to learn more about Killer’s situation because he’s put in a position to see him at his most vulnerable, but in sharp contrast, this only makes Killer more wary of and distrustful of Color—especially if it appears like Color joined willingly. I’d imagine it’d be a lot harder to get Killer to leave Nightmare willingly, because Color would either be a trap or a test that he’s not “stupid enough” to fall for.

Imagine both Color and Fresh undercover underneath Nightmare, it’d be hilarious. I like to imagine that both Killer and now Fresh find ways to disturb and creep Nightmare out.

I wonder what reasons Color would give for wanting to join Nightmare. Trying to save his universe? Get Gaster out of the Void? Defeat Corrupted Chara? Try and Reset Othertale back into Undertale so he’ll be remembered and have his brother back again?

I’m sure the last one, a part of Killer could empathize with—although it’d bring up a debate between Color and ST1 on if it’s better to be forgotten or not. Especially since, in contrast to eachother, being forgotten was one choice Color never got to make himself and being forgotten was one choice Killer ever made himself— without any outside influences.

[therealcocoshady]

So I was thinking if you’re taking requests maybe a Em x reader where she’s plus size, they’ve been friends for a while and someone makes a comment making fun of her weight or how Em would never be with someone like her & reader overhears Em’s confession/response? In need for a happy ending type of fic.

Kinktober - Day 20 - Size Difference

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : thank you for your request ! I think it fights right with the Kinktober Day 20 prompt, which is « Size Difference ». I hope you enjoy it 💕.

CW : Size difference - Plus sized reader - Fluff

The dining room was warm and buzzing with laughter and chatter as the evening settled into its comfortable rhythm. Marshall sat beside you, leaning back with that familiar, laid-back posture, fingers idly tapping the edge of his glass as he listened to some story being told across the table. You felt a flicker of contentment just sitting beside him, enjoying the moment. You loved a good dinner party : great food and good company. It was even better when Marshall was around : his humor and playful remarks were always the cherry on the cake. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond built on banter and that magnetic, unspoken understanding. There was a spark, sure, but you had always kind of danced around it, knowing it was always there, like a half-breath between you. It was playful and fun but, at the end of the day, he was him and you were, well, you. And even though you sometimes thought of how great it might be if the friendship turned into something more, you were simply grateful to be in his presence.

At one point during the dinner, you excused yourself to step outside, needing a breath of fresh air and maybe just a moment alone. As you headed for the balcony, you didn’t realize that your absence would become the focal point of a conversation you’d never intended to overhear. Marshall was taking a sip of his drink when he heard one of his friends, that you had not crossed paths with too often, chuckle, glancing toward the door you had just passed through.

“So, uh, what’s the deal between you and Y/N?” the guy asked, with that tone that conveyed his thought on your friendship, probably deeming unlikely. After all, most people wouldn’t expect one of the most successful rappers to be such good friends with a female, much less one that did not look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Marshall’s brow furrowed at the question. “We’ve been friends for a while. Why?” The guy shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Nothing, man. I’m just surprised. Thought you’d go for, you know…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “Someone more your…size.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed, but the guy kept going, oblivious. “Look, she's nice, sure, but I mean— she might get the wrong idea and think there’s something there. And, well, she’s not exactly…. In your league, you know what I’m saying?” A heaviness dropped in your chest. You didn’t mean to overhear a conversation you were obviously not privy to. You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How humiliating. You’d left your seat for a minute and people were making fun of you. Right when you thought you were having a great time. You stayed on the balcony, looking away, pretending not to hear anything, hoping the conversation would end soon, so that you could go back to your seat and pretend that nothing happened. You didn’t see Marshall glance toward the balcony door. “Yeah,” Marshall said, his tone cold, “you’re right.”

You could feel your heart drop. Of course you knew that Marshall was out of your league. Anyone could see that. And you knew he knew it too. But to hear him acknowledge it, as simple as that, it still hurt. You would have hoped he’d at least defend you and say what a great friend you were. You could feel a lump form in your throat, before he continued. “She’s way out of my league.” Marshall’s voice softened as he glanced back toward the balcony door. “She’s the kind of woman who’s smart and hilarious, who’s real and doesn’t fake a damn thing. She’s gorgeous and incredible and—well, you wouldn’t get it. Someone like her?” He paused, letting the words sink in. “She’d never go for someone like me.”

The guy stammered, clearly at a loss for words. “But I mean, what is it that you actually see in her?” Marshall shook his head, a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he looked his friend square in the face. “What do I see in her?” He gave a small laugh. “Everything. I mean, have you seen her?”

You thought you were about to cry from the humiliation, but then you heard Marshall’s voice, steady and honest, filling in every corner of doubt she’d ever had. By the time he finished, your cheeks felt hot. There was a moment of silence and you decided to come back. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and approached the table, quietly slipping back into your seat beside him. Marshall glanced over, flashing her that signature, knowing smile, like you were his favorite person to see across the room. The conversation switched to another topic, moving on to some workplace gossip.

Without a word, you reached under the table and found his hand. His fingers stilled for a beat, then curled around yours, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern on your skin, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. He looked over, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you, deeper than words. “Out of your league, huh?” You whispered, your voice a mixture of teasing and something softer, more serious. He squeezed your hand gently, his demeanor oddly calm though you could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “Way, way out of my league,” he murmured, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.

You both focused on the table conversation, but neither of you could actually keep your attention from straying to the connection between your hands, fingers gently toying and tracing each other. Every once in a while, Marshall’s thumb would brush across your knuckles, a delicate and unhurried stroke that sent little shivers up your arm. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile, feeling your cheeks warm under the subtle, unspoken affection radiating from him. At one point, he leaned back casually, still holding your hand beneath the table, and threw in one of his usual sarcastic comments at something one of your friends said. But as he spoke, he lightly drew circles against your palm, his fingers grazing yours with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. It felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a silent language spoken in touch instead of words. You risked a glance at him, your eyes catching his for the briefest moment. He was mid-sentence, but when he saw you look, he shot you a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow in that mischievous way of his. He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, like he was saying, ‘I’ve got you.’

Your friends seemed oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations, while you and Marshall seemed to exist in your own bubble, a world of hidden smiles and quiet gestures. With each minute that passed, your confidence in this unspoken connection grew, and your touches became bolder. His hand slipped down to your wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, while you traced your fingertips along the callouses on his, each touch a little thrill that left you wanting more. By dessert, you were leaning in just a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as you exchanged quick, playful whispers and comments about the evening’s conversations. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand in yours, all made your heart pound in a way that was intoxicating.

Finally, as the evening wound down, people beginning to gather coats and say goodbyes, Marshall gave your hand one last squeeze, holding your gaze in a look that spoke volumes. As you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the quiet tension that had been building all night seemed to close in around you. The moment you were alone, it was as though the air became charged, the silence between the two of you suddenly thick with every unspoken word and lingering look you’d shared at the dinner table.

You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, your breath catching as Marshall took a step closer. His gaze roamed over you, clearly taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, accentuating every line, every dip. He looked at you like he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried, and your pulse quickened, your body responding to the heat in his stare. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing along your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, gentle but deliberate. His voice was a low, warm rumble, barely above a whisper. “You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?” You felt your cheeks flush, your lips parting, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on your, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, like he was savoring every second, his hand slipping around to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into you. She could taste the faint hint of Diet Coke on his lips, feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingertips, and it made your head spin. Marshall’s hands slid down, resting on your hips, pulling you against him, his touch possessive yet tender. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you melt against him, your breath coming quicker with each soft, lingering touch. “You have no idea…” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “No idea how beautiful you are.”

His hand traced down your side, following the curve of your waist, fingers exploring every dip and line as though committing you to memory. You arched into him, your own hands roaming up to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, the tension just beneath the surface. When he looked at you again, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more, capturing your mouth in another kiss that was deeper, needier. The world outside the elevator ceased to exist; there was only the warmth of his touch, the soft hum of the elevator, and the way he made you feel, like you were the only woman in the world.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I gotcha, dawg.

Well, there's lots I could say here, but perhaps the easiest thing to address is you yourself saying you want to remain anonymous so as not to get "in trouble" - I presume from Democrat Tumblr users(?)

In a democracy, you shouldn't have to be frightened to say who you voted for or the concerns you have about an election.

This present climate of fear of saying the wrong thing or using the wrong pronoun or is one of the things I find most refreshing about the Trump train: he's the only mainstream politician in America openly pushing back against Wokeness - which is a 21st rebranding of Political Correctness - which is in turn a perversion of the word "correct" to mean "in line with present party policy" that first appears in Chairman Mao's Little Red Book. Also the only U.S. mainstream politician against the present transgender madness (the castration, sterilization and brainwashing of children) and open borders. These are very commonsense positions necessary for any nation's survival that have massively widespread support amongst the majority of ordinary people, but no-one else in government was doing anything to represent them.

It took an outsider not in the pocket of the donors who own the arms companies and the oil companies and the media companies and the pharmaceutical companies and so on to actually push back against the status quo and have a thick-enough skin and good humour to not back down. That's who Trump is. Yes he's a flawed and sometimes buffoonish-like figure, but the fact that he is a bullheaded businessman has meant he's been able to look at America as an enterprise in decline that needs fixing and overhauling to make "great" again, and just charge through the red tape to do whatever actually needs doing.

The first Trump presidency was a time of democrats and other hysterical left-wing activists burning, looting and rioting in America, but on the global stage it was a time of relative peace: Trump invaded no country or started any new wars (the way Biden did only 6 weeks into his presidency), and there's no reason to think he will this time round either. He did nothing to incite the very silly January 6th free tour of the Capitol Building, but for telling people to be peaceful and go home he - the sitting president - was silenced and booted from every social media platform.

So much was made this election over abortion rights - and I myself have always been pro-choice - but he didn't (and has repeatedly stated he won't) ban abortion but simply made it an issue that individual states can decide for themselves, which makes sense given the range of opinions on that matter in different parts of the country. It's probably my least favourite aspect of his policies, but the fact that such a relatively trivial matter was placed front and center in the Democrats' campaign and all that the hosts of The View and other female media dross could talk about for a year just tells you how shockingly debased and distracted political discourse has become in the west.

I could go on, but rather than addressing one claim after another, I would suggest you simply make a list of all the things you can recall the media and the democrats claiming Trump has said or done, and then go look up the original unedited videos that the out of context soundbites have been taken from, and then ask yourself whether what they presented you with seems a fair and unbiased representation of any individual, and whether it seems reasonable to trust the people who relentlessly deceived you in this way. That would do more to broaden your point of view than anything I could say.

[interstellar-productions]

I’m not done yet (please someone save me from this hell of my own creation) and so i bring you Jean, Jeremy and Aaron friendship truths. ( absolute bullshit i pulled out of my ass because of how i internalize these 3 fictional men).

In my head it all makes sense. THEIR PERFECT (their broken arguably beyond repair). Jean is stepping outside for the first time, not mafia parents and no nest, he’s never been able to be independent and thus lacks a sense of self, because he was always told exactly what to be. Jean is learned helplessness. The cage is open but he’s so used to being beat that he doesn’t really try to move, because you can’t outrun the enviable. Jeremy is two different people sharing the same skin, who is with the Trojans and who he is when he’s with his parents. There are expectations that come with both. He knows this. Jeremy has built his life around these two extremes and doesn’t really have a middle ground. which one is the real him? Does he even know? Aaron is constantly moving. He’s a busy body, homework, class, study, practice, gym. Aaron packs his days full of so many things that he doesn’t need to think about who he is outside of the things that make him painfully normal( please don’t look at him, don’t notice him).

Jean is acceptance, he knows it’s coming and his trying to minimize the damage. Jeremy is fight or flight, he’s loud and bubbly and bigger then life, why would something be wrong for someone whose that happy. Aaron is survival, he’s checklists and to do’s.

Jean: if your going to hit me do it

Jeremy: you can’t hit me if you can’t catch me

Aaron: you can’t hit me if you don’t notice me

Their the 3 amigos of hurt and suffering i fear and that’s why they’d be perfect friends.

Aaron is the quiet and calm to Jeremy’s raging storm and the silent darkness for jean. Aaron is secrecy in its purest form.

Jean is the reality check that Jeremy and Aaron would both benefit from (when their too trapped in their own heads to think clearly), jean is steady in a twisted sort of way. Jean is steady in a I’ve accepted death and no longer fear it sort of way.

Jeremy would be the sunshine, but not in the normal way that Jeremy brings sunshine. Jeremy would be the “ a bad today means a better tomorrow” sort of sunshine. That quiet sort of i know the rain just as well as you do but i also know well make it out of this too.

Jean would be the reminder that all things are temporary and thats not something we need to fear, just accept. Control what you can and accept what you can’t.

Aaron is white knuckled grips, were all making it out of here because we have too, because there is no other option, i wont let there be another option.

Jeremy is the reminder that sometimes laying down is ok, let yourself have nice things just because.

These 3 together could heal each other. (They could also make each other spiral)

[brokenpieces-72]

Hybrid au is so tastyyy

My minds stuck on reader getting their first romantical partner and the boys just being EVEYWHERE the lovers don't get a single second alone and do not even think about closing the door when alone that's a no no

Okay so I would say this happens when Spirit is a little older. As to whether the partner is human or hybrid I’m not sure.

Romantic Recon

You started with just hanging out but you got curious about a romantic partner. You got attached to them and they enjoyed your company. They were sweet and charming. Thought your ears were cute which always made you blush. Sometimes Johnny would notice and inquire, but you wouldn’t notice so you just shrugged it off, all happy and sunshine. Johnny doesn't let it go.

Your partner finally asks if you want to start spending more time together, and lo and behold, Konig overhears. Does he bring it up with Soap? Yes absolutely. Ghost is with him, and so is Gaz. They’d already suspected, your hormones do increase when you’re close to your partner. And of fucking course they get protective.

Horangi teases the fuck out of it. You swear everytime you just want to sit and talk with your partner he comes into the room to “grab something” or “pass through”. Yeah right, you know recon when you see it.

Konig does accidentally walk in on you. At one point you are audibly frustrated, and he backs out of the room. He didn’t mean to walk in, really. You probably shouldn’t close doors though. The last thing he wanted was to walk in on something you shouldn’t be- okay okay, you got it. Please don’t go into detail.

Price doesn’t mind you having a partner, but no closed doors. He’ll knock, to give you some space, but it’s more like a chance for you to stop canoodling before he opens the door. Door has to stay open or you can be out in rec room. Besides you have some work to do anyways. No you don’t get to bring the work back to your room, and your partner has another task they’re needed for.

Alejandro steps in when your partner is alone, you had to get up to grab something. At some point he calls your partner aside to ask a few questions, making sure they did the work they were supposed to. Then he asks what your partners intentions were with you. That made your partner uneasy. Nothing bad sir, they swear.

Rudy tag teams with the colonel, and will have the cadejos scratch on your door if it’s closed. Once you tried to hide with your partner just to talk, it was really just meant to be a simple chat. They were having a rough day and you wanted to know what was going on. Everything would be okay, you know it would and-really?! Rudy just stood there holding the door open. Everything okay in here? Obviously just go! The door was left open and you apologized profusely to your partner.

Ghost is annoying cause he acts like he hasn’t done anything. Yeah he definitely didn’t pass through the walls to see what you were up to. Closed doors are fucking useless with him. You half suspect Johnny put him up to it. No he just found it easier to pass through on his way to coffee. You roll your eyes, and tell him not to that. You’re a grown woman, and don’t appreciate him just coming in to your room whenever he pleases. You have a full on confrontation after he walked in on you and your partner in your room. You get why he did it when you were younger and your handler was a jerk, but he didn’t get to do it now. Simon actually respects your wishes. He still keeps watching though.

You figured if you couldn’t get privacy inside you’d try outside.…Gaz what the hell? You tried the roof where you sometimes sat with Gaz, but Gaz landed and told you two to get another roof. Oh come on, you were there first. Whatever. Your partner suggests a hike later on, and you love hiking and think you might actually get away for a bit! Yes! You could show your partner some of the best spots! Your partner finds your excitement adorable. Gaz flying overhead made your cloud watching a little annoying. Your partner is used to it at this point.

Johnny… okay Johnny was the one you could understand being protective but holy shit could he tone it down! When he asks who made you blush and you told him he went straight to the soldier. Since then he was watching like a hawk or asking someone else to check up on you. If he even sensed your hormones being different he would ask what you were up to tonight. Yeah, right it’s not nothing. You’re still not telling. He’ll sniff it out. He does and it’s frustrating. If he walks in he tries to cover it up, like it’s nothing, sorry he was just grabbing some food, or something. The final straw was when you still didn’t tell him what you were doing and he learned you went out without telling anyone with only your partner. He went full wolf mode tracking you down. That was fucking it! When you heard him coming you went into your full wendigo form, staring him down. The werewolf growling and your towering Wendigo form startled your date, and when you finally returned to base they asked if you two could take a break.

Price did give Johnny a hard time about go so protective. He understood why, but ha! You weren’t letting him off that easy. That night you were upset and did some crying. This wasn’t fair, you were an adult… and as an adult you were going to set some rules of your own. No joke you came to Price a day or so later requesting a meeting. No not with him, though you wanted his attendance, you wanted it with the whole team. Yeah Horangi better be there too or you would ask Konig to help you strap him to a chair to listen.

The atmosphere in that room is awkward. When Johnny tried to apologize after what happened you ignored him which never happens. As you left the room Ghost made a comment about him being in the dog house. You poked your head back in glaring. Oh no, Ghost was haunting that dog house too. Shit. In the meeting room everyone was present.

“Are you all aware I’m an adult?” You asked.

The room was very quiet with a few exchanging looks. You’ll take that as a yes.

“And you are also aware I am fully capable of making my own decisions? Of making my own mistakes and maybe even making good choices?” The room gave a few nods. Yeah okay, where was this going?

“So then you should also be aware that despite being the youngest on this team I am fully capable of having my own sex life.” You stated, arms crossed and glaring at each of them. Some of them went red.

“You’ve been avin sex?!” Johnny asked, voice raised. That’s what he focused on?!

“FUCKING NO!! Not that I would even have a chance with you lot fucking spying on me 24/7 like I’m thirteen!” You shouted back. That got Johnny to back off. You were upset, and he was the cause. They all were in some part.

“Spirit, what is this meeting about?” Price asked. You know he wants you to get on with the main point. It wasn’t just to have an argument with Johnny.

“I just want to have some proper alone time with my partner. We can’t easily leave base whenever we want, and there’s tons of people coming and going, I get that. But the few times we can be together to just hang out or cuddle for a bit, someone walks in on us, and all of you seem to have forgotten how to close the door, or that I am entitled to some level of privacy!” You explained. Okay, that was a much better explanation. There’s some undertones of emotion in your voice. The team was so used to you being their little one, they seemed to forget sometimes that you’d grown up.

Price gives in, and asks what you propose. You want to set some ground rules. You were permitted to be alone with your partner if you so desired. If they needed you, they could text or call for you, you could hear it. If the door is closed they had to knock, and had to wait for your response before coming in. No trying to get between you and your partner, or pulling you apart for other tasks unless it was actually required. It was something they all had to follow, but Johnny had only one condition. That you at least tell him where you’re going if you do leave for something. He’d only follow if it was an emergency.

By the end of the meeting, everyone parts ways to go about their usual routine. Gaz stuck behind while Johnny gave you space at Simon’s request. He noticed you were upset and wanted to apologize for the fly by. Not that it would matter, since your partner wanted a break. Kyle assured you that your partner needed time to relax, and adjust to the crazy hybrid family you had on base. It couldn’t hurt for you to take some time for yourself as well. Give it maybe a day or so, and then go talk to them. The woods would probably be the best to ensure you have some privacy. If you want, Kyle will wait for you on the roof.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @yune1337

[jesuistrestriste]

Wait ur halloween blirb got me drooling. The public humiliation mnnnnph.

Made me think... art accidentally calling u mommy in front of his tennis bros (and ur girl friends but they probably knew what kinda freaky shit their hg was into)

i <3 art being publicly humiliated mm mm mm it makes my heart swell.

he just always puts on such a show down at the courts ! smashing rackets and shooting cold looks at opponents. it’s all so calculated but he loves the attention. he loves being able to control the perception of him that the public puts together. adores being seen as a competent (albeit sometimes hotheaded), talented, strong tennis player.

so if you were to just get him to.. crack that facade a little..

ohh god, he’d be a mess. like he can’t really be mad at you. he put himself here. he did this. he let you get inside his head and now he’s saying and doing stupid shit in public that he can’t take back.

and it happens when his brain is least functional.

right after a long training session, or after a huge match.

in this case, it was the former.

he’d just finished up a 2 hour long rigorous training session and he’d agreed to come meet you at some smoothie place on campus.

when he gets there, sweaty and disheveled, his eyes instantly find you at a table outside and then he’s dragging his feet to get there. tunnel vision takes over. slumps right down next to you in an empty metal chair and pushes his face into your neck. you chuckle and pet his hair.

“hey, baby… you look tired,” you hum, still stroking your fingers through his messy strands. the smell of fresh sweat and warm skin is wafting off of him in heavy waves.

he pushes himself closer to you, a little whine slipping from his chest. he shakes his head and keeps his eyes closed before his left hand finds the back of your top.

“can we go?” he breathes out.

“Art, I ju—“

he whines again—a bit louder.. a bit more intentionally— as soon as he senses the word ‘no’ coming.

“please..” he whispers, his fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt, “need you right now.. please mommy…”

and it’s like the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. the simple words coming out in that utterly exhausted tone send heat boiling right down into your stomach.

art doesn’t get why it suddenly feels like the world went quiet until he realizes that he never registered the fact that three of your closest friends are sitting on the other side of the table.

he feels like he could just about die.

you nervously chuckle and look to your friends, all of them giving you either a surprised or knowing look before they all lean back in their seats and giggle amongst each other.

their laughter gets art’s blood curdling in the most delicious way, and suddenly he feels something warm twitching to life in his shorts. oh no.

he doesn’t dare pull his face from your neck. you’re his shield now. his chance at redeeming himself be damned ! he made his bed the moment he let you indulge his kink.

this is what he gets.

and you’ll be sure to remind him of it when you get him out of this mess and then face-down into the mattress to make a new one all over the bedspread..

[lauvfool]

⋆𐙚₊˚Cindy Lou Who⋆H.Jisung

"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏'"

Content : Han Jisung x f! Reader, angst, drinking/alcohol, vomiting mentions, unrequited love towards Han Jisung.

Requested by : @hanjisungfan560

୨୧ "[Name], stop thinking about him," Her friend sighed, putting her hand on [Name]'s shoulder. She sighed, peeling her eyes away from Han and the woman wrapped around his arms.

Behind the closed window, snow lightly pelted throughout the region, small puffs of white built up against each other. The street light illuminated small patterns on the sidewalk. Defining the texture the snow held. And there she was at some stupid party with a bunch of idiotic people.

"I'm not..." [Name] lied. Her friend, Lacy, raised a brow knowingly. "[Name]..." "Okay so maybe I was. So what? What irritates me is that Julie is all over him..." She scowled, running a hand through her hair.

Lacy sighed, putting a gently squeeze on her friends shoulder. "Look, I know you two were best friends and that you like Han, you have to let them go though," She mumbled. [Name] knew it was true, she couldn't just keep bottling up emotions.

"I will. " [Name] said through her teeth, taking a chug of the alcohol. The liquid from the cup washed her mouth with a bitter taste. It couldn't even nurture the feelings built inside her. "Fuck, I need another drink..." She groaned. Her feet led her towards where the alcohol was, whether it was classical beer to Korean soju, there was an assortment in the cooler, on the tables, anywhere a bottle could be displayed.

And her eyes peered back in the direction of her past best friend and the guy who displayed unrequited love. Yet neither were there. Callow was she in the way her feelings were organized by herself.

She poured herself another drink. Instantly taking another sip. "Woah, slow down, you might drink yourself dead, [Name]," a familiar voice chattered. Her eyes turned to meet the figure of Han...

"I think I can handle my alcohol..." Ironic the way her words were slurred. Han hummed through a smile. "Ah, I see. It's getting late though, aren't you going home soon?" He asked, looking at her.

"Yeah, so what?" She scoffed. "Let me walk you home," He offered. It was like Julie was out to get her the way she attached to Han so quickly.

[Name] felt sick, actually sick. She felt an acidic feeling, making itself known as it traveled up her throat. She covered her mouth with her palm before rushing over to the bathroom.

Han looked at her with what appeared like worry, following behind her. Julie let a scoff escape her lips as she was left behind, clenching her fist...

Han gently smoothed his hand on [Name]'s back as he held her hair back. Sickly vomiting into the toilet. "You drank too much, I'm taking you home." Han sighed.

"Whatever..." She croaked, seeming to sober up. "Fuck this is embarrassing..." She thought as he handed her a handkerchief. [Name] mumbled out a slight thanks at his action.

[Name] hated the feeling she was experiencing at that current moment. Confused. Sometimes he was complimenting her, calling her pretty, staring into her eyes as if she's the only one in the room, or talking to her like she's all that matters.

Then there would be times to which he ignored her going to that wicked Julie. With claims of love towards her. It all felt melancholy.

Yet here was Han Jisung, walking her up to her apartment. Supporting her as he walked with her up towards her floor. Soon enough they reached her room.

"Ah...I guess this is goodbye for today," Han chuckled. [Name] scoffed, it seemed she didn't completely sober up. He raised a brow to her reaction.

"Is something wrong?" He hummed. She nodded weakly, stumbling forward, tripping over her own feet to end up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing him in his warmth. She hated it, oh she despised it.

Outside her apartment door wrapped around the arms of the man who didn't love her back. And there he was leading her own.

A kiss planted against her forehead as he soothed her back. She choked back tears, burying her face deeper against his chest. Her hands gripping at his jacket.

"What's wrong?" Han questioned. "This. You're cruel, you know that? ...What does Julie have that I don't?" [Name]'s voice cracked with emotions. Her hands curled up desperately against the fabric of the jacket, keeping him warm. Yet he was the only thing to keep her warm.

"[Name], you know it's not like that." "Then what is it? Is she just some other woman like me that you keep leading on?" She choked out. "Fuck, you make me look so stupid! My best friend too? I look like an idiot liking you. Like thinking I have a chance." [Name] sobbed.

Hot tears escaped through the burrows of her eyes. Her eyes shone like the glossy snowflakes outside in the winter weather.

He stayed quiet, listening to her words or hopelessness. Guilt seeps through him like blood in his veins. All he can do is ruin it, still holding her in his arms and with his hand on her back.

Maybe desperation wasn't crying in his arms but instead allowing it to happen. Allowing her mental state to be trampled oh so carelessly. Allowing herself to torment so much just for a man who didn't like her back.

Note : Hope you enjoyed because I didn't

Isn't much angst just me yapping

[dykedvonte]

I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?

-💀

I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.

I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.

I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.

The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.

It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.

[sufferu]

A major problem I see with your dogshow and your back to zero stories is the fact that there appears to be no end to the tunnel of despair.

specifically I am talking about Subaru’s mental stability and your fascination for removing a central pillar of his mental system.

I see no other outcome for him not to suffer a complete mental collapse like he did in episode fifteen.

for your dogshow fic it is worse because both he and his “friends” saw everything that he went through and should know how much being loved through the position of being a knight is good for him.

even if they are focused on the actual issue of tossing him out to the front lines.

I personally believe that Subaru needs to be a hero/knight or something like a dog or sex toy for Emilia or else he is forced to confront the horrible reality of his friends being assholes who killed him on mere whims.

I don’t think that Subaru can ever recover from another catatonic state. The only reason why he did was because Petelguese had provoked wrath from Subaru and the spirit is no longer alive.

for back to zero it’s has a better chance of Subaru not going catatonic because it is set before the whale and witch cult, so there’s always the possibility of the whale and witch’s cult not acting like they did last time.

of course there is the problem that once they start losing one of the random soldiers would decide to kill Subaru to reset the encounter like he was the cosmic reset button.

thus why I called your story torture porn because despite your claims that it be happier for Subaru eventually, all I see is the angst without a happy ending.

I assume that you are going for a tragedy story where the characters are trying to solve problems but they can’t get past their mistakes.

however I personally believe that re zero is already a tragedy/lovecraftian-psychological horror story and that adding even more to that is needlessly cruel to everyone involved.

I don’t read a lot of tragedy but I assume that there is a through line of action that the characters can take to make everything better but don’t take it for some reason.

for your stories, I don’t see anything like this. All I see is “And things get even worse.”

seriously Subaru basically has no life lines left after Wilhelm removed Subaru from being a knight.

what is stopping him from just giving up on life after basically being disowned by everyone?

…You know what? That is a valuable outside perspective, so thank you.

But I will say: we seem to have VERY different ideas about what would be a “happy ending” in a story like this, because the ending that you just told me is one that I would less describe as “happy” and more as “full of soul-crushing despair.”

Subaru remaining a knight/hero for the rest of his natural life after everyone learns that doing so is basically sentencing him to indescribable torment for the rest of his days, purely because that is the only way he can conceive of being loved by other people — how is that HAPPY? And using it as a distraction in order to run from the realities exposed by Return By Death — how is that healthier than confronting said realities outright? If I WERE to write a tragedy, I’d likely end this story much in the way that you just described: where everything was too much to deal with and so everyone decided to remain in stasis forever while turning a blind eye to the suffering at the core of it all, Ones Who Stay In Omelas style. Tragedies aren’t really my style, though, so I AM writing towards a happy ending — though I’m not spoiling what it is, for No Refunds OR Back to Zero. (Though really, you could probably guess a good chunk of at least the former already.)

But like — without spoilers, yeah, something like this would probably break him. That doesn’t mean he has to STAY broken. Sometimes you have to re-break a bone so that it heals correctly. Sometimes you have to tear down something you worked hard on because there’s a critical fault in the foundations that could destroy everything if left unchecked. Sometimes bandaids need to be ripped off.

And also — yeah, everyone is PISSED at Subaru at the moment (post-ficlet). But who the hell said that they didn’t love him anymore?

[dee-writes-anime]

ehhh, i'm not sure if you do Platonic, but if you do, could i request Aizawa x (student)reader who sometimes struggles w Japanese? If you don't do platonic that's fine, i hope you have a great day nonetheless!! <33

It Just Takes Time

FEATURING Shota Aizawa x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY Turns out that learning Japanese is really hard. (thank you for the cute request, anon!)

CONTENT WARNINGS reader being self critical, academic struggles, reader comparing themself to others.

AUTHORS NOTE I think this ask is actually really fitting for how I'm currently feeling. So, for anyone else out there struggling, listen to daddy Aizawa and know that everyone learns and grows at their own pace, just keep on working hard and don't give up!

You sit at your desk, papers and textbooks scattered around you in a haphazard pile that hints at the hours you’ve spent struggling. The Japanese characters on the page blur together, no matter how hard you try to focus. It's like they’re taunting you, reminding you of every time the words haven’t come easily, every time you’ve stumbled or hesitated in class.

A familiar presence shifts beside you. You glance up, and there stands Aizawa, hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze as sharp as ever. He regards you with that cool, assessing look he’s known for. “You look like you’re ready to snap your pencil in half,” he observes, and there’s a faint, almost teasing lilt to his tone.

You let out a sigh, feeling a hint of embarrassment. “It’s just… hard. Everyone else seems to understand so quickly. I feel like I’m always the last one to get it.”

Aizawa doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he pulls a chair next to yours and settles into it with a deliberate, calm ease. He waits a moment, as if he’s letting your frustration settle before responding. “Comparing yourself to others won’t help you learn,” he says, his tone firm but not unkind. “Each person has their own pace. Yours happens to be a bit different. That’s all.”

His words, as straightforward as they are, bring a strange comfort. You hadn’t expected him to sit down and tutor you directly, but now that he’s here, the pressure to be perfect seems to lighten.

He shifts his gaze to the paper in front of you, scanning the sentences you’ve been wrestling with. “Alright,” he says finally, his tone decisive. “Let’s go through this together. You read the first line, and I’ll help when you need it.”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of his attention as he watches you. Aizawa’s presence is intense but not intimidating; his patience seems infinite, like he’s willing to sit here as long as it takes for you to get it right. With a steadying breath, you begin to read, stumbling over a few characters.

He stops you gently, pointing to a specific word. “Let’s break this down. Each character has its own structure and meaning—if you can understand that, it’ll make more sense in context.” He explains the origin of each character, his voice low and even, helping you see beyond just the lines and strokes.

As he talks, you find yourself drawn into his explanations. He speaks with such clarity and purpose that the words start to come alive. His hand occasionally hovers over your paper, tracing a line or pointing out a radical, making the language feel less foreign, less impossible.

When you falter, his eyes remain steady on yours, grounding you. “Focus on one part at a time,” he advises, his voice a calming murmur that somehow cuts through the tension tightening your shoulders. “Learning a language isn’t about speed. It’s about understanding.”

Minutes turn to hours, and outside the window, the sun dips lower, casting the room in a warm, amber glow. You realize you’ve started to pick up on patterns in the characters you didn’t see before, small tricks and connections that make each word seem less intimidating. With Aizawa’s guidance, your confidence begins to grow, even if it’s just a flicker.

Eventually, he leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving you. “Try reading this line again,” he says, pointing to a sentence you struggled with earlier. “And don’t rush. Just… read.”

You take a deep breath and begin, carefully sounding out each word. This time, something clicks. The words come more easily, the characters less like strangers and more like acquaintances you’re beginning to understand. When you finish, you glance at Aizawa, half-expecting some kind of correction.

Instead, he gives a small nod of approval. “Good,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “You’re getting there. It may not feel like much, but that’s progress.”

You feel a warmth spread in your chest, a mixture of relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Aizawa-sensei,” you murmur, almost shyly. “I… I don’t think I could have gotten through this without you.”

He watches you with a look that’s hard to interpret, a quiet depth behind his eyes. “Don’t thank me for doing what you were already capable of,” he replies, his tone gentle but unwavering. “You put in the effort. I was just here to make sure you didn’t doubt yourself.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you begin packing up your things, the weight of his words lingering. Aizawa’s encouragement isn’t effusive or loud—it’s grounded, like the support of a solid foundation. And though his words are few, each one is intentional, reminding you that you’re capable, that your pace is your own.

As you stand, he offers a parting piece of advice. “If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to ask. Language isn’t easy, but it’s worth learning.”

With a small, grateful smile, you nod. “I will, Sensei. Thanks… really.”

He nods back, his expression softening just slightly as he watches you leave. And as you step out of the classroom, you carry with you not only the knowledge he shared but also a newfound confidence, one that makes the challenge of learning feel just a bit lighter.

[fandomshipsandimagines]

a long and winding road (agathario + nicky)

ok guys, i admittedly didn't have as much time as i was expecting to write this. i also haven't written anything in lowkey a couple of years, so please bear with me here.... anyway an expansion of my prior post in somewhat fix-it-fic form

He was born from nothing but sheer willpower and a mother’s love-- virtually from scratch. A baby boy brought into a cruel and unfair world, but to two loving parents. Nicholas, they named him. It was a long and painful birth in the woods surrounding Salem. It was safe, though, in their little cottage nestled among the trees. Agatha pushed and pushed through sweat and tears, gripping Rio’s hand with iron strength. Rio didn’t mind; she was too wrapped up in her own excitement to really notice. Her pain was incomparable to Agatha’s anyway.

He was born healthy. In the first instant, they were overcome with joy. She looked at Agatha with tears in her eyes and kissed her forehead lovingly. Agatha smiled back, an exhausted but ecstatic smile. “He’s perfect, mi amor.” “He really is.” Rio watched Agatha beam at the sight of the baby--their baby-- and felt her heart swell. They cleaned him and swaddled him, feeding him before setting him in the crib Rio had conjured from neighboring tree branches. Sometimes, being The Green Witch had its perks. Agatha dozed off, no doubt wiped out from the grueling experience. Rio pulled the crib next to the bed she shared with Agatha, keeping watch over them both (otherworldly beings don’t need much sleep, anyway). The now two people she loved more than anything in the world were sleeping peacefully; she would never admit it, but Agatha made fun of how Rio snored, filling the space with her presence. Now, though, it was quiet.

That’s when it settled and hit her. The prophecy that his time would be limited. Nicky wouldn’t live long. Rio had never really concerned herself with mortals, never finding them compelling enough to care about their pre-established timelines. This one was different. This was her Nicky-- hers and Agatha’s. The panic came next, then sorrow. Grief prickled in the back of her mind, sending tears to her eyes that threatened to fall. She couldn’t take that risk in case Agatha woke up. Gently, she stroked Nicky’s head with the back of her hand and watched the rise and fall of his chest. Somewhere outside, in the garden Nicky would grow up playing in, flowers bloomed. Hyacinths, black roses, Lily of the valley, chrysanthemum sprouted, adding color to the dull forest. They slept soundly through the night.

In the morning, she tells Agatha. They’ve begun adjusting to this new life, the three of them finding a routine. In hushed tones, they bicker. Rio reminds Agatha that all living things must come to their natural end, some earlier than others. Agatha, disillusioned by the fact that her lover is Lady Death, refutes that. “No, Rio. He’s not like others. Stop this, please.” She gets up and walks away, claiming she needs to stretch the soreness away. She doesn’t go far, just crosses the bedroom to where Nicky sleeps soundly in his crib. Rio watches with sadness, deciding not to push further for now. Her black heart doesn’t have the strength to tell Agatha just how limited their time together will be, and maybe it’s selfish of her, but she doesn’t want to face it either. She decides to shift her focus towards building a home with her lover and their child, determined to make these the absolute best years of their lives for Nicky. She knows that, once it’s over, the damage will be irreversible. And, undoubtedly, Agatha will not forgive her for what’s to come. She doesn’t want to lose them, not yet.

It comes up again the first time Nicky gets sick. A year later, in the dead of winter, he catches his first cold. Agatha is home with him, worrying and fussing. She’s so distraught over her anxieties that she can’t seem to master the healing spell. Her mind doesn’t think clearly enough to make the potion, and Rio comes home from work to find Agatha’s exacerbated cries as a potion bubbles and burns in the cauldron. “What’s going on here? What are you trying to make?” “A potion, Rio. He’s sick! He’s sick and I can’t fix it.” Rio rushes to Nicky’s crip to feel his forehead. He’s burning up for sure; immediately, he starts crying at the sight of his mother. She lifts him and holds him to her chest. Maybe it’s how calm she looks that makes Agatha realize this is not his time. And maybe this is the first time she starts to panic a little less, watching Rio for any sign of the end; each time she doesn’t see it, she breathes a little easier. Agatha’s anxieties never quite quell over the years. They ebb and flow, but mostly she enjoys the time with her little family. They build their home together in comfort, ignoring reality almost into oblivion.

She heads to the village one day to run errands; Rio is home with Nicky, giving him magic lessons. She leaves them as they sit on a log by the river writing in his book of plant species. She thinks they are identifying the trees around them. At the edge of the wood, just beyond the village, she spots a group of women. A coven. She stalks by at a distance, reminded of her own coven. The thought of her mother’s cruelty sends a shiver down her spine. She recoils at the memory of being punished for her curiosity, for wanting to learn magic and improve her craft. Shaken from her deep memory at just the right moment, she hears whispers of powerful magic, unknown and unheard of to her. In her haze, she must have stepped on a twig that snapped, because they see her and beckon her over. Immediate recognition of kin, they bid her sit down and join them. “Just passing through,” they tell her. Refugees from neighboring towns, no doubt persecuted and chased away for their witchcraft. Rio will likely confirm it soon. She stays a while, relishing in the comfort her own coven had never provided her. It’s here that she hears whispers, tales of a book possessing great magic. She recalls reading it in a manuscript once before her mother reprimanded her in front of the whole coven.

She returns home some time later to find Rio cooking in the kitchen. It always warmed her heart when Rio would grow food and cook for Nicky, even though she didn’t need to eat.

“Mama, you’re home!” Nicky comes barreling towards her. The hug lasts all of two seconds before he grabs her hand and drags her to the fire.

“Hi, sweetheart! That smells good. What are you cooking?”

“We’re making stew, Mama. Mom grew the vegetables, but I helped.”

“He did! He collected them as soon as they sprouted, didn’t you mijo?”

“Well done, my love. I see your lessons are paying off.” Agatha puts down her own basket and places a kiss on Rio’s cheek.

They sit together around the fire and eat the stew. Nicky goes on and on describing the plants he learned about today. His parents watch him lovingly, glancing at one another every once in a while with a smile. It was a miracle that he’d grown so quickly. It was those moments that made Rio nearly forget herself, forget that Nicky had already turned 4. She is reminded after dinner, with Nicky put to bed and her and Agatha sitting together by the fire. Her lover is curled up in her arms, and Rio feels how immense her responsibility is to protect them. She squeezes Agatha just a little tighter, planting a gentle but firm kiss to her head. Agatha lazily plays with Rio’s fingers, toying with the idea of ruining this serene moment by bringing up what she heard earlier. Eventually, Rio breaks the silence. “You seem deep in thought, mi amor. What’s on your mind?” It’s unavoidable now, and the more Agatha had been thinking about it, the more eager she felt to find this fabled book.

“When I was in the forest earlier, I came across a coven at the edge of the village. They had traveled from Andover.”

“Refugees?” Agatha nodded. Rio, sure that it had upset Agatha to remember her own past” squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“I sat with them a bit. They caught me nearby,” she smiled sheepishly at Rio. “They told stories, old witches’ fables, about The Road and a magic spellbook.” Rio stiffened. Agatha felt muscles tensing behind her and took it as a sign of confirmation that maybe these weren’t just tales.

“You know it?”

“Agatha…”

“So it’s real isn’t it? Rio, this could be the key. We could save Nicky with this!”

“It doesn’t work like that.” The serene moment was long gone, reality crashing down on them. “The Dark Hold corrupts anyone who touches it. It’s dark magic, Agatha, it’s not safe. It’ll only make things worse.”

“So you’re admitting that the Dark Hold and The Road are real.”

They quarrel, Rio denying their existence and trying desperately to convince Agatha to let this go. It’s all in vain, because once Agatha’s curiosity is sparked, there’s no going back. The trait that Rio had once fallen in love with was doomed to become their downfall. Agatha’s obsessions grow over the next year. Their once peaceful home begins to strain under the stress; tension fills the air. Agatha ventures out more often, leaving Rio and Nicky home. Rio watches her inquisitively as she walks off in her hooded cloak, keeping their son entertained with spells and stories. Agatha’s obsession begins to take over, casting a darkness over their household. She holes herself up at home, obsessing over spell books, manuscripts, maps, and lore in hopes of any insight into where the Dark Hold is hidden. By this point, it’s become clear that Rio knows more than she lets on, but Agatha stops pushing her. They’re tired of bickering over this subject, and Rio won’t contribute any more to this downfall than she knows she will soon have to.

In the evenings, they dote on Nicky, determined to make sure his childhood is a happy one. He stays oblivious, knowing only the comfort and love of his mothers. It’s not until the coughing begins that things really start to go downhill. Agatha and Rio stand in the living room, arguing in hushed tones; this has become their nightly routine, it seems. From the other room, Nicky’s room, a cough. Then another. Then comes a coughing fit. They spring to action. Rio rushes to his side, waking him and holding her in his lap. She rubs comforting circles on his back, easing him back to a relaxed state. Gods, she thinks, his time is nearly upon us. She dispels the thought, focusing instead on the vial of warm liquid Agatha brings into the room. “Drink this, sweetie. It’ll help.” The coughing quiets and he dozes off back to a deep sleep. They transfer him to their bed so they can keep a watchful eye on him through the night.

“Rio, please tell me it’s not happening.”

“Not yet. Some time remains.”

“I have to find it, Rio. This might be our only chance. Please, my love. Don’t you care? Doesn’t this affect you?”

“Well, of course it does, Agatha! I love him and I want what’s best for him. But, I am telling you this is not the way!”

“Shhh you’ll wake him!”

Rio sighs. She doesn’t know how to keep having this conversation. She doesn’t know if she can tell Agatha that his time is near, that he will only live another year. She can’t face them, knowing what she has always known. That Nicky would only live to be six. She’s not sure how much longer she can go on bending the rules of nature and tipping the natural balance. Still, she urges Agatha not to waste her energy looking for a book that won’t give them what they need.

“Agatha, he needs to feel loved. This is not love.”

“What is it then? I seem to be doing more for him than you. I don’t see you trying any harder to keep him alive.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know the sacrifice I made for him, for you, for US. I can’t change the course of anyone’s fate. In the end--”

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. We are witches. You are Death! Rio, we can’t just sit idly by and watch this happen. Not when we have magic and there is magic out there that can help!”

“That's just it! I’m trying to tell you that it won’t work, Agatha. Please, enough of this. Promise me that you will give up this obsession with the Dark Hold. Promise me that you will show him the love he deserves.”

It’s Agatha’s turn now to sigh. “I’ll be damned if this boy knows anything but love.” The conversation ends there.

Nicky’s health fluctuates over the next year, as does Rio’s schedule. The increase in witch trials begins to take its toll. Tensions continue to rise, Rio angry with innocent deaths, Agatha angry that Rio is always gone. In the time she has alone with Nicky, she devotes more time to her magic; Nicky finds it entertaining to watch his Mama. They walk the forests, Agatha singing the Ballad softly while he listens. At times, he points out different species; Agatha smiles as she listens to him. He looks so alive when babbling about his lessons. It tugs at her heart strings. They turn back when she hears the first cough. He grows tired, his factual interjections decreasing. They arrive home as the fits get more intense. Agatha fixes him the same potion, practically shoving it down his throat in fear. Rio arrives soon after, exhausted and drained; the sound she hears shakes her. “When did it start?” “Earlier in the forest, but it only just got bad again.”

They climb into bed on either side of their son, grateful that the potion worked. He sleeps quietly and calmly in between his mothers. Laying on her bent arm, Agatha places her free hand on his chest, feeling Nicky breathe steadily; Rio, perched on her elbow, places a free hand over Agatha’s. Rio falls asleep first, snoring softly beside Nicky. It’s not often that Rio falls asleep, so she takes this rare opportunity. Agatha carefully gets up, grabbing the bag she had stashed under their bed long ago. She stands over her lover and son, smiling with determination to make things right, and places a feather light kiss on both of their heads before slipping away into the darkness.

Rio doesn’t even have to open her eyes in the morning to know Agatha’s gone. And she knows exactly where she is. Her eyes flutter open and lay on Nicky, his breather slower and shallower than it was in the nighttime. Just as she’s about to wake him and check how he’s doing, he wakes himself with another coughing fit. She can hear it before she feels it, the difference in his health. It’s almost drastic, a dramatic change in typical Harness-Vidal fashion. Her own breathing picks up as she eyes her son, for the first time wanting to run away from her job. She knows it won’t be long now. She sits Nicky up and rubs his back as he coughs. When it starts to slow, she picks him up and moves them to the kitchen. He sits on the table wrapped warmly as she fetches him some water. She recreates the potion Agatha had given him last night, hoping to prolong any changes for as long as she can. She hands him the water and vial; he drinks and instantly calms down.

“Mom, where’s Mama?” The crushing weight of reality returns.

“She had to go on a work trip, sweetheart. She’ll be back soon.”

“Will she be back in time for my birthday?” Rio freezes yet again. No, she thinks. It can’t be. But it must.

“But of course! She’s gonna bring you back a birthday present too because you’ve been such a good boy! We’re so proud of how well you’re advancing in your lessons. You’re our little miracle, Nicky.” He beams at this, launching into a guessing game of what his present might be. Rio smiles, trying to hide her grief. Two days later, he turns 6.

They pass the time together, Rio desperately trying to distract Nicky from the fact that Agatha was missing. She fills his days with fun and excitement, spoiling him with anything his heart desires. She blooms one of every flower he can think of, creating a meadow from empty land. They run and chase one another through the field, filling the air with laughter and screams. The running slows and they lay side by side, watching the clouds. Rio shapes them into bunnies for Nicky, who giggles and names every single one. She gets the idea for his birthday present from there. She summons a bunny on their way home and it sits on their front porch. Nicky screams with excitement. “I shall name him Senior Scratchy!” They curl up by the fire that evening, and the coughing commences again. Rio, panicking and dreading the inevitable, tries in vain to feed him potions and medicine, bending over backwards to reshape his fate. With each cough, she can feel her powers waning. While Nicky sleeps in her arms, she cries and begs silently. She holds Nicky closer and cries, kissing his head over and over again. He stirs a little, looking at her with tired eyes.

It’s then that Rio sees just how exhausted he is; she cannot keep doing this. She curses Agatha for being gone, curses the Dark Hold for not having a cure. “Is Mama back?” “Not yet, baby. Close your eyes and sleep. When you wake up, she’ll be back.” His eyes shut and he nods, almost immediately falling asleep again. She continues to cry. When his body stills in relaxation, she knows it’s time. She appears in his dream, careful not to expose her Death face so as not to scare him. In his dream, he is awake in the same meadow they played in earlier. He runs through the field with his arms out, hands brushing the grass around him. A flower in hand, he rushes to his mother. He grabs her hand and jumps up and down, handing her the flower. She holds his hand and points in the direction of the forest.

“It’s time to go mijo. It’s time for that big adventure I promised you.”

“Am I finally old enough?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” They walk off together towards the forest. He grips her hand just a little tighter, suddenly aware that the forest gets darker and denser the deeper they travel.

“You’re being such a brave boy cariño.” He smiles up at her, pleased with the approval.

Early in the morning, Agatha returns to their cottage in the woods. The air is still just as it is every morning, but it’s heavy in a way it has never been. She opens the door and steps inside. Before she sees Rio and Nicky, she knows what’s happened. Rio’s soft cries break through the air, reaching Agatha’s ears and causing tears to form in her eyes. She drops the book with a thud, her already blackening fingers trembling.

“No. Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you didn’t.” Rio cries harder. “Rio, what did you do?” Now she’s yelling.

“I couldn’t hold it any longer. I couldn’t give us any more time.”

‘What do you mean you couldn't hold on? How is that possible? You’re Death! Rio, how could you?”

“How could I? HOW COULD YOU? You missed his birthday, Agatha. You missed the past two years! You obsessed over that goddamn book instead of being here for him.”

“I WAS TRYING TO SAVE HIM!”

“SO WAS I.”

The silence is deafening. Both witches feel the blood rushing to their ears. Agatha grabs Nicky’s limp body from Rio, clutching him tightly and crying. She sits there with him for the better part of three hours, shaking and crying with rage. She mourns her loss loudly, barely registering Rio’s presence but making sure she can hear her grief. By the door, Rio grabs the Dark Hold and places it on the table. It burns the moment it touches her fingertips.

They take Nicky’s body outside, Rio’s power opening a grave and floating him gently into it. She covers him with dirt, sprouting the very same flowers that sprung at his birth. Sorrow, loss, regret, guilt, heartbreak. She’s never hated being a green witch, The Green Witch, so badly. Agatha turns on her heels and rushes off into the house the moment he’s laid to rest, tears streaming down her face. Rio stays an extra moment before returning to their home.

She hears footsteps, but she doesn’t turn around. “You took him without letting me say goodbye.”

“I gave you every chance to be with him, Agatha. I told you not to leave.”

“I left to help him, which is more than you did.”

“At least I stayed here. I disrupted the balance of nature and gave us time with him. He was never supposed to live this long, but he did, no thanks to you. I had a job to do; I didn’t want to do it, but I did it.”

“Know that I hate you. I hate you with everything that I am. I will never, ever, forgive you for this. You destroyed everything. You took everything. Fuck you, Rio.”

“Hate me all you want. But don’t think you’re off the hook either. You left him alone for days, days, Agatha. For a stupid book. For magic that wouldn’t heal. You know, he asked for you TWICE. Where were you then?”

“I don’t ever want to see you again. Leave me alone.”

“Gladly.”

With that last word, they parted ways. Rio returned to the world from whence she came, far away from mortals and Agatha. Far away from her life, her family, her son. Back to the responsibility she wished she could have left behind forever. No more playing house. She went back to being Lady Death. Agatha stays inside, studying the Dark Hold and perfecting her craft. Over the centuries, the Dark Hold corrupts her; black-tipped fingers hold the hands of coven members decade after decade, century after century, siphoning their powers and leaving a trail of bodies behind. Rio keeps her distance, not exactly eager to face what she feels she’s created. If she’d pushed Agatha harder, if she’d stopped her from leaving that night, if she just could’ve held onto Nicky a little harder, maybe none of it would’ve happened. Death herself collected the bodies that Agatha left behind; only this time, it’s not love that fills her heart at the thought, it’s sorrow.

With centuries of time at her disposal, Agatha allows herself to get immersed in her studies; the Dark Hold becomes everything to her, and the powers that grow with each kill makes her feel invincible. As her power grows, so does the veil surrounding her. At first, Rio doesn’t even bother looking for her, too heartbroken and angry to care about her former lover. Two centuries later, she feels a shift--the Dark Hold is in someone else’s possession. She decides to take a risk and search for Agatha, having allowed herself to heal from Nicky’s passing over the centuries, and that’s how Rio ends up in a little town called Westview. It’s quaint and normal, the opposite of the Agatha she remembers; the Agatha she finds is also not the woman she fell in love with. It breaks Rio’s heart even more to see the once powerful Agatha Harkness reduced to a life of delusions under the Scarlet Witch’s spell. It nearly kills her that they lost everything for nothing; no amount of killing gave her enough power, no amount of begging saved Nicky, and no amount of fighting saved their family.

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause “No.”

She can almost see the gears turning in her mind. By now, Rio has learned that she lives on teetering edges. A flicker of hope replaced quickly by guilt. After all this time, she still loves Agatha, and she won’t take advantage of a weakness no matter how desperately she wishes to go back to happier times.

She loses Agatha a second time, but this time it’s on Rio’s terrain. Underground, on a fake road, Rio is summoned to a road. She emerges from the grave of a woman whose soul she just escorted--Sharon Davis she thinks, but she doesn’t really care. This magic, this Hex, forces them along the path, pushing their limits trial after trial. Deep in the dark woods, Rio takes the opportunity to express her feelings and give the closest thing she can to an apology. The boy, Teen they’ve been calling him, almost dies; emotions are waxing and waning. There’s no better time to try. Agatha storms off and Rio smiles, remembering all the times her lover would stubbornly exit the conversation.

“Agatha?”

“Hm.”

“That boy isn’t yours.” Rio is sure it hurts her to say it just as much to say it as it hurts Agatha to hear it. She doesn’t dare reveal that Teen is Billy and Billy cheated Death. She doesn’t mention that she’s going to have to take another boy from Agatha.

One by one, this new coven falls. Rio’s begun to find this chore boring, following Agatha and cleaning up after her. First Sharon (Rio really starts counting with Alice), then Alice, and now Lilia. The pieces of the puzzle are finally starting to connect. They leave Billy and Jen behind to process their losses; she takes her chances with Agatha in the empty clearing amongst the trees.They face each other in the clearing. Agatha jabs at her first.

“You took my son.”

“He was OUR son.” Rio is angry now, angrier than she’s ever been. “I lost him, too, Agatha. It wasn’t just you.” She’s crying; it’s only the second time it’s ever happened. The hot tears burn her cheeks; she feels more human than she thought was possible.

Opposite her, Agatha’s own eyes well up with tears. She didn’t want to talk about this again, not with Rio. Her vision is clouded; she sees nothing in front of her, not even Rio’s tears. Also for the second time, she tells Rio that she doesn’t want to see her face ever again. Rio leaves, agreeing to respect Agatha’s wishes. When death comes for her, it won’t be her lover’s hand she holds to cross.

The now three witches move forward to the next trial. Agatha is angry, eager to get off of this fake road. She has no interest in being around these people anymore. The next trial stops them in their tracks. It’s Jen’s turn, she thinks, it must be. She scowls at the thought; yet another obstacle in the way of getting out of here. They unbind Jen, and she helps Billy look for his brother, but the trial goes on. It’s Agatha’s turn to escape. It’s not magic she’s looking for; that won’t help her here. She is bound to this trial, to this Hex, by her grief. With no tears to cloud her vision, she sees clearly for the first time ever.

“Sometimes, boys die.”

The room goes dark, but her soul feels lighter. Just like that, the weight of a thousand lifetimes comes crashing down. Memories dance across her eyes as they adjust to the dark atmosphere. She sees Nicky running in the meadow, sees Rio holding their baby, and sees his peacefully sleeping form as they go to sleep under the stars. The lights flicker on and Agatha realizes she’s been crying. She cries for herself and for Nicky and for Rio. She mourns the loss of her family, of her happiness. She looks to the lamps above her, illuminating the exit. She turns to the room where she will leave her grief and anger.

A million realizations seem to take form as she’s exiting The Road. A child born of death was never destined to live; it was Rio’s mercy, love, and sacrifice that gave them a miracle. Wasting precious time with her boy going after dark magic was always going to be futile; and by the end, she’d become addicted to the power more than she wanted to admit. It was never going to save Nicky, but it drove her desire to move forward. Rio did her best--no, better than her best. Agatha was just as much to blame as she was. Out there in the open, she knows Billy won’t be safe for long. She emerges to find Rio back with a vengeance, ready to reap the soul of the Boy Who Cheated Death. She knows this is her moment.

Sending Billy to the greenhouse, she approaches Rio who reaches for her knife in confusion. Instead of the fight she is expecting, Agatha gently grabs her face and kisses her. Rio is almost too shocked to react, but soon melts into the kiss. Agatha does her best to convey what she lacks the words to express: that she’s sorry, that it was never just Rio’s fault, that she misses their family, and maybe there’s some hope after all. They finally pull apart, gasping for air like they've been drowning forever.

“You broke the rules.”

“For you, my love, there is no rule I wouldn’t break.” They smile at each other, basking in the comfort of the moment.

Billy emerges soon after, slow and careful to avoid ruining the tender moment. Rio looks back and forth between him and Agatha; out of the corner of her eye, she can see her lover pleading. She chooses not to take the boy this time. Agatha places a hand on his cheek.

“If you’re going to learn magic, Billy, you’re going to learn it the right way. You’re too powerful to waste it on darkness and destruction.”

“Careful, Agatha. I tend to kill my coven.”

“So do I.”

@takjdidoprdele @yakly @gracklesascendant @kamala-msmarvel-khan @ddagent @fridafolkestone @lord-luminous @cm572 @botineh @jxsmindoodles @ouroborosdisorder @ginnyssprace @autbot @sunflowerscottie @crazyballoongentleman @oldbutterfly @rhaenyratargaryendefender

[akamitrani]

— Backstage Pass —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader (Pt.1?)

Warnings: Mild suggestive, flirting (and the massive amount of tension that comes with it), release of the tension, slow burn.

Summary: You manage to get backstage access to a Terrifier panel where David is present, you end up striking a conversation with him and one thing leads to another.

[A/N: Hi guys, this is my first ever published fanfic – Be kind ☠️ – Sorry if anything lol. Btw, I hope y'all like to read fr cuz this fanfic surely is for readers]

[ · · · ]

The low hum of the convention floor buzzed around you, but for the moment, it felt as though the world had quieted down. You stood backstage, just outside the makeshift white room where David was preparing for a panel at the horror convention. Your excitement of meeting the actor behind Art the Clown was palpable, it was the man himself – the warm, approachable, and genuine David

You had spent the better part of the day anxiously navigating your way through autograph lines, fan meet-and-greets and photo ops, but now, standing backstage, you had a rare chance to speak with him outside the chaos. You never expected an encounter like this but here you were, a quiet moment with the very man who had terrified and fascinated you all at once

David’s head peeked from behind the curtains, his bright blue eyes meeting yours – “Hey! You’re the one who was talking about makeup techniques earlier, right?” – his voice had a casual charm, free of any of the sinister vibes Art was known for

You nodded, a bit stunned that he’d even remembered you from earlier in the day – “I'm Y/N by the way... And yeah, I’m just starting to get into prosthetics, but I love how the horror community brings so many elements together”

He smiled, a grin that reached his eyes and softened the sharpness of his features – “Y/N. And oh I totally get that. There’s something about horror that feels like a puzzle, you know? Acting, makeup, lighting… everything needs to come together for the whole thing to work”

It felt like a small moment of mutual understanding, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to his enthusiasm. Here was David, the man behind the terrifying clown, speaking with such openness.

“So...” – David said after a beat, his tone playful – “what’s your favorite kind of horror?”

“It’s a toss-up but I’d say psychological horror, something that messes with your mind, makes you question what’s real” – You said

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious for a moment – “Yeah, that kind of horror is powerful. But I have to admit, sometimes I miss just making people jump... It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me”

You laughed loud, the sound echoing through the quiet backstage space – “I bet! It’s a great feeling though, knowing you can make people react like that”

David’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint appearing – “Well... I think we’ve got some time for a little more talking, but it’s not going to be quieter once the panel starts, I'll eventually get busy... You’re sticking around, right?”

You hesitated, the pull of curiosity and excitement making you eager to continue the conversation – “Of course! After the panel, would you like to talk more? What about... Grabbing a drink?”

David raised an eyebrow, the playful smile tugging at his lips again – “Perfect, was just thinking the same thing. And I could definitely use a quiet moment away from the crowd... There's a nice café nearby, just behind the building”

You felt a jolt of anticipation. This was no longer just a fan encounter. The conversation had shifted from polite exchanges to something more personal, a subtle invitation hanging in the air

“Perfect!” – You replied, feeling your nerves melt away – “See you there then”

“I'll be there as soon as the panel is finished" – He replied

[ · · · ]

sorry but I don't have the patience

to write a 'in between' lol

You entered the café David mentioned about earlier, the ambiance was calm as expected. Dave was already there tucked in a corner booth, his eyes eventually meet yours and he sweetly waves at you. Walking in his direction you sat down, wasting no time to start chatting. David had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, leaning slightly forward, completely engrossed in the story you were telling him

“And that’s when I realized..." – you laughed, glancing down in embarrassment – “I’d been talking to the director with fake blood still smeared all across my cheek!”

David chuckled – “You’d fit right in on a horror set with a story like that” – he said, tilting his head with that trademark playful smile – “Sounds like you were born for the genre”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, not just from the flattery but from the way he looked at you — as if you two were the only people in the room. For someone who could be so chillingly silent in his role as Art, David had an openness and kindness that made you feel immediately at ease

Both of you shared another laugh, you noticed his fingers drumming gently against the ceramic cup, a little habit he seemed unaware of. The small, endearing detail felt so far removed from the menacing persona he played on screen. In that moment, you wondered how many people really got to see him this way, relaxed and unguarded

“So” – David said, breaking the silence – “I have to ask... why horror? Why would you willingly choose a field that involves blood, guts, and a thousand ways to terrify an audience?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering an answer – “I think it’s the honesty of it... Horror doesn’t hide from what people fear. It embraces it. And creating that… It’s almost like a dance between knowing what scares people and making them feel safe enough to face it. It’s–”

“Powerful” David finished for you, a look of understanding in his eyes – “Yeah. I think I know what you mean” – he paused – “That’s exactly what draws me to it. There’s something about the way people’s walls come down when they’re scared. You can see who they really are”

Your eyes met with his, a silence settled between you and him, charged with something unspoken. You felt a flutter of nervous excitement, this was David Howard Thornton, a master of horror, sharing his personal thoughts with you as if you were an old friend

“Hey-” – David’s voice softened, breaking the tension – “I just realized how late it’s getting. But honestly…” – He glanced down, almost shyly, before looking back up with a small grin – “I don't want this conversation to end just yet”

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, you feel your heart skip – “Me neither...”

He hesitated, then gave a casual shrug – “I have a bottle of wine back at my hotel...” – he said with a hint of playful mischief – “If you’re up for it, we could keep talking there... No pressure though — I promise I’m far less terrifying off the set”

You both laughed, but you felt a thrill run through your body. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but the invitation in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, left little room for doubt

“Well...” – you said, mirroring his grin – “as long as you leave the clown mask behind”

David let out a low, warm chuckle and reached out, his hand brushing against yours just briefly – “Deal.”

[ · · · ]

at the hotel

The elevator doors slid open, then shut with a soft thud – the hum of the machine filled the otherwise quiet space between you both. David stood closer, his presence palpable as the two of you ascended to the upper floors. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the subtle hint of his musky cologne, the faint rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly

The tension from the café was still there – unspoken, but thick. You could both feel it in the air, like an electric charge that had been building ever since the moment you'd first exchanged words. But now, in this small quiet space, it was almost impossible to ignore

David caught your eye, a soft smirk playing at the corner of his mouth – “I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s nice to get away from the madness for a bit you know”

You nodded but you could feel your heart rate picking up, the proximity between you and him making your thoughts scatter – “Yeah, it’s… really nice” – your voice sounded quieter than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he is standing, how his shoulder brushed against yours every so often

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at David’s floor, you both stepped out. David led the way to his room, his long strides confident, though there was a subtle energy about him – something different than the actor you’d seen on stage. The man before them now seemed grounded, a little more vulnerable, but still just as captivating

As you two reached the door, David turned to you with a quiet smile – “Make yourself at home” – he said, pushing the door open and holding it for you to enter. The room was cozy, warmly lit

You stepped in, the scent of fresh linen and something faintly musky lingering in the air, his cologne you thought. You took a moment to glance around but David was already moving toward the small bar area by the window, pouring two glasses of wine

“Care for something?” – he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes

“Sure, why not?” – You replied, voice a little breathless. It was hard to focus on anything other than the man before you, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. It was a strange mix of charm and allure, the kind of presence that seemed to draw people in without effort

David handed you the glass, his fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. His touch lingered, and you both looked up at the same time, locking eyes. There was something in his gaze – soft yet intense.

“Cheers” – he murmured lifting his own glass, clinking your drinks together

The conversation flowed easily at first, light and casual, but the air felt heavier now. David shifted slightly, moving a little closer as he leaned against the back of a chair, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite.

You set your drink down on the table, feeling a quiet tension building – “You know... I never thought I’d end up in a hotel room with someone like you”

David raised an eyebrow – “Someone like me?”

You laughed softly, a little nervous – “Yeah, someone so… different from Art”

David’s smile deepened, and he moved a fraction closer – “I think I’m a little more like Art than you realize” – he teased, there was a softness in his voice and a hint of something else, something that wasn’t just playful

“I don’t know…” – your voice faltering for a moment – “M-maybe you’re right”

David didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze darkened just slightly, his focus never wavering. He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the best way

“You know Y/N” he said quietly, almost a whisper – “I’m glad you stayed”

[···]

The silence between you both thickened, hanging in the air. David's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as though he was considering something. Drawn to the warmth of his presence, you got closer. David didn't move away. Instead, he stood perfectly still, giving you space to decide what to do next. A quiet hunger in the way he looked at you.

“I dont want to rush this” – David said softly, voice low and deliberate – “But, I can't pretend I'm not completely drawn to you”

You reached up, fingers brushing against his arm, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. David inhaled sharply, his body tensing just a bit at the contact.

“Are you sure?” – he whispered, his hand reached out, fingers barely grazing the edge of your wrist. You nodded, voice barely above a breath – “Yeah, I'm sure.”

David's hand gently cupped the side of your face, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw – savoring every second. David's face was so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first. His hands slid down, pulling you closer. He grabs your waist hard and you accidentally let out a small moan... That's when he finally kisses you, letting out a low whimper himself. The kiss gets deeper, sucking and biting. You respond instinctively, fingers threading through his gray hair, drawing him in as the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

You break the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, foreheads resting against each other and trying to collect yourselves. This had been building all night, ready to break.

“You're incredible” – David murmured, his voice thick with desire

You met his gaze – “I can say the same about you”

“I've wanted this all night” – He confessed

David's hands slid down your back, guiding you firmly towards him, towards his thighs. Now straddling him, your fingers tightened in his hair as his hands moved, exploring the curves of your waist, savoring every detail about it. His hands slid down your dress, up your thighs and finally resting on the hem of your panties... His eyes pledged for yours, for assurance – You nodded

“You're not going to regret this” he whispered