#i would like a man like that please universe

[i-looove-dillydallying]

Up until now I’ve managed to ignore this dumb post every time it reaches my dashboard, but I’ve had enough.

Devout christian here.

Never met a single person in my entire life who believes this way.

Not even online, and there’s some crazy people on the internet.

Even if these people somehow did exist - I admit culture differences are a thing and assume you’re USAmerican - globally, they’d be the exception and not the rule; claiming them to be would be an over-generalisation at best.

This is not objectively the story of the bible.

This is not universally taught to children.

As a christian, I agree that would’ve been horrible. Thank God we’re more sensible than people like to give us credit for.

Thanks for the straw man fallacy👍 please do some basic research before attacking religious people for their (supposed) core beliefs and sacred texts.

It’s getting tiresome.

Look, we joke a lot, but really, "you were born evil, wretched, worse than the scum of the earth, and it took killing a god to make you salvageable, so now you'd better be grateful to that god and thank him 10,000 times a day for it and fill your thoughts with him 24/7 and abide by the letter of his every word, lest you suffer unimaginable torture for all of eternity" is a truly horrendous thing to believe about yourself and other people

[multiversediaries]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

[what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older]

Optimus was finally starting to come to, he kept his optics shut however, making a grumbling sound as he talked to himself, ignoring the fact that there were others there.

Because no there wasn't, because he was at home, because he didn't visit Wheeljack today on a fragging whim and then get blasted to who knows where.

He was going to deny everything until it was real, because he was too damn tired to be dealing with this scrap.

He exhaled speaking quietly and firmly to himself, as if by saying it , it would absolutely make it real.

"Wheeljack didn't blow me up. I didn't get blasted, the mech with the fine faceplate structure was just a dream, just a really, real dream- I'm going to open my optics and none of it is real."

His ear fins twitched. His jaw tensed, Optimus closed his eyes tighter, please if there was a Primus...

He opened his optics and there he was that mech with the faceplate with sharp edges that only defined his features further, one optic ridge raised and looking at him.

Optimus closed his eyes again and sighed, a long heavy sigh.

"Of course you're real and just had to be there. "

"You are certainly in a mess and answered a few questions without my even asking, so you're from an alternative universe, that certainly explains the appearance...though with these bright colours I must wonder are you from a pleasure District where you come from?"

Optimus's cheeks turned deep purple at the mere suggestion, he held nothing against such places, but the very idea of himself performing at one with everyone staring...that voice....all raspy, gravelly even saying that....no, not the time to be thinking like that.

Sitting up, he found his wrists and ankles were bound and glared with such a fire at the silver mech . He was sure he'd burned him and smirked at the thought.

Megatron however was simply staring, the fire, the fight in those eyes, there was something akin to a wild animal in them that wanted freedom, he momentarily felt the desire to tame such a thing...but perhaps in that want age set them apart.

If Optimus had heard these thoughts and not noticed the Decepticon symbol on the mechs chest.

He instant response would be

'No it didn't. '

Optimus pulled at the restraints again and heard another mech working the medical computer behind him.

There was no mistaking that structure, despite a few differences

Frowning he stated the name of the mech

"Soundwave."

Soundwave unfazed by him simply waved a hand as if to say yeah yeah I'm busy working don't bother me.

Prime turned his head and then looked at the one beside the med berth and chuckled, that damn cannon should have instantly made it obvious who he was.

Megatron folded his arms, he did not appreciate the mocking tone in that laugh.

"Pray tell, what do you find so amusing about my image."

"Compared to the Megatron in my world, you're tiny."

Optimus grinned, oh he knew he was dancing with Unicron with that comment but the way Megatron shifted and placed his hands on his hips , unsure of what to say before he was pointing at him and scolding him as if he were a sparkling.

"Boy, despite my size I have battled and won against Cybertronians Omega Supreme's size, I have no problem dealing with prisoners or upstarts."

Prime wondered a moment if he should pull a page from Bee's book and antagonise him, that berating tone might almost be worth it.

Optimus decided to go with a tactic that he knew was merely a joke... but he couldn't girlboss, mansplain, definitely not man slaughter his way out of this, he was on his own here.

Primus he couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"So which one am I, Lord Megatron?"

He purred leaning in closer.

Man whoring it was.

(Previous part)

(First part)

[seilnakyle]

do you have any dickbabs reading recommendations (especially if they're babs focused)? I read batgirl year one and some nightwing too, but I would love to delve deeper into their relationship

thank you sm in advance 🙏

They just don’t do slow burn in comics like Dickbabs anymore ♥️

If you’re coming right off batgirl year one (masterpiece. Redefined my life. Forever altered my brain) I definitely recommend you read Nightwing Year one as well, (starts at issue #101 of Nightwing (1996)

In this list I have included everything I can, but If I missed anything significant please feel free to let me know!

Pre-Crisis:

Detective Comics (1937): #359

The Batman Family (1975): #1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 20

POST CRISIS:

Robin Year One (2000): #4

Batgirl Year One (2003)

Nightwing Year One - Nightwing (1996): #101-106

Nightwing (1995): #2

Nightwing (1996): #0.5, 7, 14, 16-18, 19, 20, 24, 25, 37, 38-87, 88, 89, 100, 104, 109, 117, 153 (this isn’t EVERY issue Babs is in but all the important ones)

Batman Chronicles (1996): #9

Some of the best and most beautiful dickbabs moments come from birds of prey, and they give a great look into Babs’ side of things too! I recommend reading Bop and Nightwing alongside each other (If you can!) And I alos recommend you read some Batman arcs like Cataclysm, No Man’s Land and Bruce Wayne, Murderer? They show Dick and Babs working together and with the batfam. Fun Fact and slight spoiler for the ending of No Man’s Land, The ending scene where Dick and Helena randomly kiss was supposed to be between Dick and Babs, but someone messed up, and Rucka kinda just thought Dick was a horndog so no one fixed it 💔 there is still some good Dickbabs moments within that arc tho

Birds Of Prey (1999): #8, 19, 20, 23-61, 71, 76, 86

Robin (1993): #71

Gotham Knights: #17, 18, 26, 30, 32, 34, 35, 36, 42, 43

Harley Quinn (2000): #10-12

DC One Million (1998): #1 , 3

DC Universe Holiday Bash (1997): #2

Batman: Black Mirror (they aren’t together in this but it’s still important reading for their relationship imo and a fascinating/thrilling Dick!bats story with lots of Oracle besides)

Nightwing Annual 2 (for the conclusion of the proposal from Nightwing #117)

Li’l Gotham (2013): #1, 7, 10, 17

Convergence Nightwing/Oracle #1-2 (for the wedding. This is how pre-boot ended as far as I’m concerned)

New 52 Reboot:

Nightwing (2011): #4, Annual 1

Batgirl (2011): #3, 18, 21, 30, Annual 3, 45

Grayson (2014): #2, #12

REBIRTH:

Nightwing (2016) #1, 2, 3, 15, 44, 45, 46, 47, Annual 1

Batgirl (2016): #7, 10, 14, 15, 16, 17, 25

Dark Nights: Death Metal - the Last Stories of the DC Universe: #1

Batman (2016): #55

Batgirl (2016): #43, 50

Nightwing (2016): #50, 72, 73, 74, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 100, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123 (ongoing)

Batman (2016): #100, 104, 118, 126, 127, 128, 137, 141, 145, 146, 148, 149,

Batgirls (2021): #7, 8, 10, 12

The Flash (2016): #787

Future State: Nightwing (2021): #1, 2

Future State: The Next Batman (2021): #4

Superman: Son of Kal-El (2021): #13

Saved by the Belle Reve (2022): #1

Tales of the Titans (2023): #1

Titans: Beast World (2023): #2, 3, 4, 6

Titans (2023): #6, 7

Batman / Santa Clause: Silent Knight (2023): #1-4

How to lose a Guy Gardener in 10 days (2024): #1

Super-Pets Special: Bitedentity Crisis (2024): #1

ELSEWORLDS / BLACK LABEL

Thrillkiller (1997): #1-3

Young Justice (2011): #22, 23, 25

Earth 2: World’s End (2014): #1, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10

Earth 2 (2012): #29

Batman: White Knight (2017): #1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Batman: White Knight: Batman Day (2018): #1

Batman: Curse of the White Knight (2019): #4

Batman: Beyond The White Knight (2022): #1, 4, 6, 7, 8

The Batman & Scooby-Doo Mysteries (2021): #4

Dc vs. Vampires (2021): #1, #2, #3, 4, 8, 12

Batman: The Long Halloween - The Last Halloween (2024): #1

Batman: Dark Age (2024): #4, 5, 6

The Boy Wonder (2024): #1

[novicedraws]

your biggest fan here

So evil Lao and Raiden didn’t know each other [closely] before becoming enemies, huh? ig it felt like they had a history because when they are not fighting Raiden seems… chill/tolerant to Lao? XD like “are you fr breaking into my room through a window? kinda rude but sure ig” lmao

How did he ended up in this situation then? 👀 did he just fell for the Bad Boy charm, or was there something more? they love to hold each other in arms while wounded, do they have a common enemy who brought them closer??

🍀

omg, its you again! hola hahahahaha Yea that's my bad lol I tend to draw "story beats" out of order so I can see why the confusion. So if you don't mind, imma kinda look like this

First Meeting - The start of it all, atp the Shaolin have been winning and gaining back territories and recourses from the Red Dragon. Kung Lao is called in to "fix" the problem. Raiden only knows by word of mouth about Kung Lao (vise versa Kung Lao with Raiden). Kung Lao is more amused about this new "champion" as he doesn't see him as a threat (until he gets his ass beat in that first encounter lol) obviously the two still don't like each other.

The Girls are Fighting - probably the least amount of drawings out of the arcs. honestly that one drawing is even leaning more towards "changing Point". essentially, This is the messy part of the story. both the champions don't like each other what so ever. its also the longest part of the "story" (months time in the story) Mavado/ rest of the Red Dragon starts picking up about this new threat. In turn they put more pressure on Kung Lao, it makes him so fucking mad. Its as if he's not a threat anymore. (he still very much so). Raiden on the other hand also gets pressure from his piers, the champion should have already fixed most of the issues already. ((side note - yea they should go after Liu Kang but *plot twist* Liu Kang is actually weakened. Its why he wont just rewrite the universe, something went terribly wrong, plus he's not a "public" figure)) both sides allies think they are getting "obsessed" with the other.

Changing Point - Raiden by default is a nice person, even in this rough situation. So seeing how this war just brings so much pain and suffering he goes for a different tactic. Diplomacy with Kung Lao- just enough to try and reason with him. It doesn't exactly work and in that moment of vulnerability Kung lao takes his chance to disarm Raiden. Raiden can keep up with Kung Lao but he panicked with his amulet stolen, so he did the most crazy thing (aka kiss him). If you asked, Raiden has no idea why he would even go for that tactic he just panicked lol. But he didn't hate it, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise.

Feelings? - Mavado gets wind of the new annoying champion, and sees how Kung Lao is annoyed with him...or is he? Mavado knows Kung Lao's mannerisms, hes 90% sure its not hatred. And knowing that, he feels...annoyed, mad, upset even? but instead of actually thinking about it, he acts petty and tries to hurt them both (alt. to fighting). He hurts Raiden at the party- Raiden doesn't know why he's upset seeing that. And Kung Lao doesn't know why he cares for Raiden's feelings. - Kung Lao knows how to sneak around (he had to for survival) so he often goes to see the enemy front (its often how he's able to defeat the enemy) but this one night is different. He see's Raiden very close to another individual (smoke). He doesn't care who or what that person is, he does not like them being that close to Raiden. (this is bit of a toxic trait- not enough to thinking of killing that individual- but immense jealousy)

Earth Realms Champion Injured - Raiden is one man, and while he's very strong and powerful, he's still a humble farm boy. He tries to please everyone and over works himself to the point of almost passing out in battle. The pressure and stress has got to him at this point. Despite telling everyone he's fine. He almost dies in battle but Kung Lao comes in just in time to save him. He sees the state Raiden in and is pissed. (just to note they are not fighting each other here, this is a separate issue trying to take over- aka Shang Tsung's army) Long story short (i wanna draw something later lol) Raiden is out of commission for a bit.

Something Changed - Raiden got better! but something strange keep happening during his recovery. Little gifts and such keep popping up in his room, he tries asking the others, but they deny leaving anything. He knows who it is, but he doesn't want to believe it really because why would he care about him? they are enemies, sure there's something, and he's scared. He shouldn't have these feelings, but he does. Is Kung Lao playing with his feelings? Is he just messing with him before killing him once and for all? He doesn't know. - Until one night, he stayed up enough to catch Kung Lao enter his room looking...normal. Soft. A little exhausted by the bags under his eyes. Its the first time in a while the two have gotten to see and talk to each other after all the shit they gone through. Just the two of them alone for once. They both know things were never going to stay the same again, and they don't hate that. That night they embraced each other as though they were meant to be together.

Omg Change Pt. 2 - Still working on it LMAOOOOOO--- the two now know what the other is feeling. orrrrr they're trying lol. Kung Lao is raised to keep emotions in otherwise its a weakness and can be used against you. Raiden learns people pleasing is how he is able to help his village. Its how he got injured in the first place. so they are both trying to work on it lol - will they have a happy ending? idk but thats for later hahaha.

Theres still gaps in the story, but honestly that comes in when I actually draw them in lol

So just some small spark notes I couldnt fit up above- - Raiden becomes more tolerate of Kung Lao around Changing Point. His feelings also start to slowly build up. Same with Kung Lao. - While he's not exactly against sex, Raiden definitely had a more tame upbringing. He's raised as a farm boy, and trained as a monk. Kung Lao existence alone is making the poor boy spiral LOL. Poor man is having a crises as to why he's feeling these things, he shouldn't! but he does! (also kind of makes him insecure but Kung Lao reassures him to never think like that) - The parts from changing point to omg change pt. 2 is actually short in terms of time compared to the girls are fighting.

OMGGGGGGG that was a lot, I hope I answered at least one question LOL

[birbmotherpigeon]

HERMIT UNIVERSITY socmed

PART 7

Mumbo was doing his best to type and walk at the same time. He had gotten extremely bored when his arms started aching. He was carrying spare parts for Tangos robot to the workshop. His own little Grumbot was already waiting there. He picked up his speed when he entered the building. He was just a few steps away from his corrodior when a big bumbling man turned the corner and they crash into eachother.

Mumbo being a long lean thing fell like a puppet who's strings released on impact. The bigger man didn't seem to keep himself up much better. The bigger man landed on his bum, Mumbo landing face first in his lap.

"Woah there! you okay buddy?" The man asked from above Mumbo, who froze absolutely mortified. Slowly he turned around in the lap of the strange man looking straight up at the *Damn* at the very handsome man.

"Y-yeah I....I okay, Me, buddy is" He managed to get out. He was screaming at himself internally. This was the guy! The shirtless man form the other day. The guy with the cat who moved into Mumbos old dorm. Hadn't he been so mortified he would've wanted to say something to the very handsome young man. Instead he slowly rose to his feet. started to pick up his robotic pieces before he excused himself.

"I'm terribly sorry, I need to go" He said, He didn't even have the time to reflect over the other man's crutches. Nor his extremely confused expression as Mumbo rushed off.

Scar, the mystery handsome man in question, slowly got back on his feet. He saw a metallic mustache laying on the floor as he rose...He picked it up. Looked back one last time before shrugging and continuing his own way.

Gem sighed. She knew her friend was just being dramatic. As she arrives to the workshop so does Tango and Impulse.

"GEMSTONE! what you doing here?" Impulse calls to his roommate as he spots her. She smiles with a shrug.

"Mumbo had a mortifying wet cat moment" She explained and before anyone could say anything more Mumbo was already standing in the doorway to the workshop looking like said wet cat.

"Gem :(" he whined, she had to force down a laugh as to not laugh in her friends face. Tango was not so talented but he got a swift elbow in the side from Impulse.

"I couldn't even say I was okay!!" He whined sitting down with a deep sigh. "Why can't I just be silly with the dorm thing!! why do I have to be socially awkward too" He continued to vent his heart out. He did lose her though

"Excuse me? what? dorm thing?" She repeated, Mumbos face dropped again as he thought about it. He groaned annoyed.

"Yeah I forgot to sign up for a dorm" He explained exasperated

"Well where did you sleep this night?" Gem pressed

"Tango let me crash at their dorm. I'm gonna stay there until there's a vacancy" Mumbo continued his explanation. Gem felt a dread in her stomach

"Ooooh, Mumbo you can't do that they're gonna start doing impromptu dorm checks next week" She said as carefully as she could without freaking Mumbo out even more.

"WHAT" she shouted it hadn't helped. Gem walked up to the tall man. Impulse and Tango followed suit.

"Well yeah they're checking to make sure no one unwanted is at uni" She explained Mumbos shoulders dropped aswell now.

"I guess that makes sense but" He sighed not finishing his thoughts.

"Gem don't tell on us please" Impulse suddenly said, Gem must've had made some face that made him worry. She shaked her head

"Of course not!" She said, she would never rat out her friend.

"Good, and Mumbo we'll just always be ready to hide you until you have your own dorm. Can't be too hard" Tango finished in Impulse stead. Gem was tempted to argue but Mumbo seemed to be genuinely on the werge of tears if she'd say something more.

"Y-yeah!" She let out instead. "a-and if you need to duck out I guess you can always come over to the trout dorm" She added on before thinking properly, she glanced at Impulse who simply nodded. It did seem to help though, Mumbo seemed far less sad.

Previous Part:

[mrsfezziwig]

Dear Stray Kids: Bang Chan

As part of the cheer up week for our lost children, I want to write to each, starting with our glorious leader.

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℬ𝒶𝓃ℊ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃,

Young man, do you know that you don't need to be so humble? I wish you could see yourself the way that Stay does because it hurts that you don't believe you deserve all the love, awards, and commendations you have! For a long time, I have wanted to tell you that you need to let yourself shine! We all know you went through hell during training, that you may have considered ending your life, and that the Stray Kids members saved you. Watching you go through the loss of a member was painful even though I was not there to see it first hand and I hate that you apologised for something out of your control. JYPE is wrong to do that to you and we know that you must have been traumatised by it. We love that you would see us weekly like our therapist and obviously we miss you being part of our weekly routine but honestly, more STAYs get why it was necessary than it may seem. Some of your comments about yourself really broke us, because it was clear you truly don't see the absolute pureness that lives inside you. Before I never believed in Star Children, those sent by the universe to bring light and peace to as many lost souls as they can but now I absolutely do because you are one. Please make time to nurture your own mental well-being because even the strongest break eventually and, I can't lie, after Moonbin died and you said you couldn't eat or sleep I thought we would lose you to the Hell that South Korea can be too.

For some reason, you don't let yourself bask in the fact that you did it—you survived it, you became everything you dreamed of and more. You were tenacious and full of sheer will to make it, so please don't let your love for the other members stop you from letting your light shine. Give yourself more lines and more centre time because you earned it, and Stay wants to see your bright soul and smile more than your abs. Not that we are complaining, but I think most Stay would agree. Hearing your voice and seeing you dance is far more valuable. We want to see you relax and let loose as the idol you should be rather than hiding your light under a bushel.

'Genius' is an adjective I will forever link to you, because it was your raw emotional intelligence that saw how the members would fit together so perfectly. Not only that but your ability to find beats out of nowhere just shows that music is your purpose for being here. I love watching the recording behind-the-scenes videos just to see how, even when exhausted, you glow and laugh, proving your soul was crafted for music. Somehow you take the most everyday noises and mould them like clay to satisfy the ears and if anyone says you guys are 'just' noise music then they haven't even bothered to listen to your songs.

For many of us, Stray Kids make those hard days easier and help us handle the times we want to disappear. Thank you for being a leader who is steadfast and immovable, bringing so much joy to people all over the world. Just by being the respectful, kind, honest, and down-to-earth man you are, you show your younger fans what a real man is, who deserves their love and who does not. Some people say you are the reason for demanding such high standards in their relationships, and for me, as someone old enough to be your mother, I am relieved knowing that someone is teaching today's teens what is right and what to demand from someone.

Stay love you so much, and as a fandom, we want you to get some sleep! Please take a break and some time to absorb the past 7 years and rest. Honestly, if we received a statement that you were taking a couple of months off or maybe even a full hiatus, we would probably rejoice because your health is so important to us! It’s true that you are nearing 30, and if you don’t take the time to decompress while pushing yourself so hard, it will affect your long-term health! Rather than another album, we want to see you chilling for a bit, shaking off all the stress of the nonstop comebacks and touring. We’d prefer longevity over more music; you’ve been pushing for 14 years. Letting go a little isn’t illegal, and we all want a healthy, happy, fulfilled Christopher Bang over Bang Chan the idol.

Love yourself as much as we do, and we will never have to worry about the mistakes and the fear that you will burn out. You are human, so being self-critical is normal; however, it's obvious that the pressure of your trainee years has made you terrified to stop working. You never, ever, ever, EVER have to worry about whether you are doing enough, working hard enough, or putting on the best performance because your humanity is what we love most. Even bleary-eyed and with your hair sticking up everywhere, you are perfect in our eyes. So, take a break, for fuck's sake, we aren't going anywhere at all! And when you make it back refreshed, hop on a live so we can see your face and chat a bit. No matter what the future brings for you, keep that child-like love for the world that you have and we will smile indulgently at you all the while. It is obvious that that is the genuine you, not the forced persona of so many idols. That you are universally loved by kpop stans, not just STAY, speaks volumes about your authenticity and humble nature which is something I have only ever seen for you.

On that note, I shall go now. I pray you finally accept just what an unstoppable force you are, that the kids accept your hugs and there is never another pineapple in your burger!

With love from

𝒜 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎

[monstersinthecosmos]

Do you think Louis has Stockholm Syndrome?

I mean I want to say no, because I think this isn’t really the appropriate use/meaning of Stockholm Syndrome, but I’m not trying to be pedantic about it and I understand what you’re asking LOL. 

Being completely transparent with you here, I’m not into Loustat so I don’t have the most generous opinion of them sdgka and this is one of the areas of VC where I feel really critical of the way Anne Rice wrote it in the second half of the series. And not like in a pearl clutchy way like wAHEEHHHH DONT ROMANTICIZE IIT but in like a “please show Louis some respect as a character because he would be so much more interesting if you allowed him to have a personality and to stand up to lestat” 🥸🥸🥸

But really I think like, especially in the IWTV era, it’s just a pretty straightforward unhappy and abusive marriage. I think we could even use the term “trauma bond” to describe the way Louis loves Lestat (at least back then) but there’s something to be said about like, any of the ways in which Louis had loved Lestat anyway, which he didn’t openly admit to in the book. It always begs the question of which came first—the love which then allowed him to stick around and be patient through all the bullshit, or the trauma which then subliminally caused him to become attached?

Something I think people don’t always understand about abusive relationships is that you don’t usually fall in love with someone who treats you like shit from the beginning. You love them for other reasons and then stay around after their masks come off, or after they deteriorate for whatever the reason. You stick around for the sunk cost fallacy, because there’s potential in there somewhere and you stay in love with the idea you have of who the person is and who you wish they were. 

With Louis, we have to READ BETWEEN THE LINES as Lestat says, like. The Loustat shippers have discussed to death that Louis was a repressed homosexual and so like there must have been attraction there and there must have been SOMETHING. But Louis’s story and character is so dictated by Catholicism and penance that his commitment to immortality as a means to punish himself also treats the symbolic marriage to Lestat as a curse. 

We’ve also discussed to death in fandom for decades like, what’s the most true version of events and which of the two of them are being more truthful? I’ve always sort of taken Louis’s side, because there’s some sort of objective things Lestat did (like turning a 5 year old 😂) that are undeniable, were witnessed by others, and which really tell us a lot about the person Lestat is. But I think Louis can tell us an objective series of events and still be dishonest about his own culpability or his own sincere feelings of love. 

So like I think, as fans, there’s a few version of the story that you can pick at. I tend to read IWTV as a story about a man moving from abusive relationship to abusive relationship, and I read the New Orleans era as an abusive marriage, but whatever love was there doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a trauma bond. 

Lestat keeps him trapped by withholding information, and then babytraps him with Claudia. There are times where Louis worries for Claudia’s safety. Louis definitely stays, at least at times, out of fear. 

But I do always wonder how much love was actually there. It sneaks out from time to time. And like, does Louis reallllllly give a shit, like could he have left if he really wanted to? Maybe. I wonder a lot, too, about how close they actually were during their marriage — we know that Louis never drank another vampire’s blood at least until Merrick, so their marriage was essentially sexless, unless Lestat drank from Louis while Louis just lied there waiting for it to be over. Who the fuck knows lol. 

Ultimately VC is a series about loving and being loved, like love and forgiveness is the ultimate virtue in this universe, and it makes sense as part of the sort of Catholicky world building. Deeply faithful Anne Rice WOULD think that forgiveness is the most divine option. So no matter how ugly someone's past is, they can usually find peace eventually. Louis and Lestat have an extremely ugly first marriage, but when Lestat is in danger in the 1980’s Louis is able to put it behind him and be there and they can try to work through it.

There’s something that shows up in VC about like, even contentious relationships can be so special if it’s someone who’s always been there. (Thinking about Marius & Mael or Lestat & Armand.) So no matter how unhappy they were or how badly Lestat was behaving in IWTV, Louis can soften to him by way of “you are the only constant in my whole wretched cursed immortal life.” 

So like, again we have to ask which came first: the trauma bond or the genuine love? And I’m not a Loustat fucker so I can’t really answer that. I could see either version existing, for whatever reason you need to build the case today. If it’s for meta or for a fic or whatever, there’s not just one single way to approach. 

Either way, where both paths converge is that the second half of the story is so much about grieving an abuser and how complicated it is. Louis feels guilt for how everything went down, but he’s also grieving. And when you grieve an abuser it’s like what I said earlier—sometimes it’s more about the version of them that you wished you’d had. Louis grieves a version of Lestat, and that feeds into the guilt! It’s a snowball! And it’s easy, when you’re away from the abuse, to remember the good things! Louis’s guilt will eat him alive because he remembers all the good things about Lestat, and all the things he could have been!! And it’s hard to make sense of it!  It's also the religious & forgiveness thing that in death your slate is wiped clean, so perhaps in death Lestat has paid for his sins.

It’s really such a poignant book about grief and abuse to me! It even repeats with Claudia—she frees him from Lestat, but becomes cold and abusive herself. He’s miserable with her, and he fears her, and yet the moment she’s gone he reverts to thinking of her as his little daughter that he’s lost.

Anyway.

I’m not sure if this is the answer you were looking for LMAO. Asking me, famously a Lestat Hater, if I think Lestat was a fucking douchebag during their relationship—yes of course!!!! But I recognize that we can frame IWTV in a few different ways to fine tune these points. 

Admittedly, it’s not my area of expertise within VC LOL but this is my reading of it as a layperson!!! 

[anord]

ANORD: A Dissection.

BIG ASS LORE

This is just explaining how Anord as a character works. There will most likely be a sequel to this.

it is long, but it is worth it,,,, PLEASE READ IT I BEG

thank you

and without further ado, I present: I have been thinking about this guy for almost a quarter of my life wowza

For this to make sense you have to realize that there are thousands of people named Anord/Chaos (if you didn’t know- “Anord” translates to “Chaos” in Irish. A lot of character names/funky words I write are just google translated Irish, so if you want some more context, google translate it!!)

Today we are talking about the Anord you all know. 

Confirming this now: HE IS NOT HUMAN, HE IS NOT A GOD. Technically by this Daisy’s House lore requirements he would be considered a false god.

Anord is an entity made out of this green goopy stuff which SHOULD have a name (like how God Blood is called Ichor sometimes- i need a cool name like that!!) but for now it is just called Pure Chaos because that’s what it is! 

It is concentrated chaos. If something unexpected happens, it generates this energy called chaos. Whether that’s spilling milk or assassinating the president, it’s considered chaos.

Anord is MADE ENTIRELY of this stuff. He has no blood. He has no bones. He has no heart. He has his body of chaotic energy that he has collected for a LOOONG time. 

Time is weird in this universe, so please keep that in mind if you’re like “how is that possible??” with any of this stuff. We’ll get into Anord’s association with time soon

PURE CHAOS: its properties are strange. It’s almost the consistency of oobleck. It’s not quite liquid, not quite solid, depending on the concentration. This is why anord’s body is mainly solid!! Pure chaos is constantly shifting and changing, and can be manipulated by some. For now, only Anord has the power to manipulate it, but IF YOU WANT TO MAKE CHAOS OC’S PLEEEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT IT*!! Pure chaos is made by any living and non living being. So if the wind knocks over a flower vase, that is considered chaos. Storms are a great cause of chaos. It is not always man made, but it is most often made by humans. Pure Chaos can technically be harnessed and used by any being!! It is open for anyone to include this into their lore!! PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT IT THOUGH bc I don’t want to be the source of mary sues!! It can be powerful, but it does have limits!!

Anord’s main and practically only motive is to cause chaos. Why? Because he’s made out of it!! It makes him feel good! It’s a necessary part of his life! No chaos, no Anord. If he does not absorb enough chaos to sustain himself, his body will start to slowly eat at itself and disintegrate. This is why he is often shown to be malnourished and skinny (this is also due to other mental factors). 

This is why he likes hanging around Rose. He doesn't love her. HELL, he HATES HER!! He only sticks around because she’s easy to manipulate and is a great source of chaotic energy to feed on. 

Do not think of Anord as a human full of sin or a god above man. He is a parasite. He is a powerful parasite. He’s a selfish adrenaline junkie that wants to wreck everything and everyone.

TIME:

Anord and Time have a strained situationship. 

Anord - the body - is a fairly recent form created in the year 2000. Again, it was created out of Pure Chaos and can switch to different forms. More on that later.

Anord - the mind - was born long ago. I cannot talk about this due to spoilers!! 

Like I said before, there are thousands of Anords. One of these is the ACTUAL God of Chaos. They started the Earth. They are the cause of every single chaotic event in the history of the planet. They caused the Big Bang. Chaos created the universe. Before that, it was bleak nothing. Chaos (the god) created humanity indirectly. They created everything indirectly, really. Almost as if they built the track, the marble, and the hand and whispered to the hand to push the marble down the track. ANYWAYS Chaos (the god) likes to basically sponsor humans. Ever since humanity was made, there would be one human that would cause chaos that would catch the god’s eye and they’d basically attach to that human and watch them live, influencing their actions subtly. The Anord (mind) that you talk to every day was one of these humans long ago. He was the last.

The first was Eve. So technically speaking Anord is trans. I said it it's canon.

(Diversity win! The one that will destroy everything and everyone you know and love is genderfluid!)

Every time one of these humans would die, another would be born. This also goes for other gods in my universe.

So technically Anord as a whole has existed since day 1. Actually, a little before that.

Anord (mind) that you know is not that old. He is very young compared to the other souls in that vessel.

You heard me right. Every single person that Anord (the god) has overlooked is inside Anord (the vessel). Anord (the mind you know) is the one who talks the most as he is the one who created Anord (the body). Anord (the mind) had a different name when he was a human but he does not like to be called that. Treat it as a deadname. 

So not only is there Anord (the one you know) but there is Anord (Witch from the salem trials) or Anord (participant in the Boston Tea Party) or Anord (in his world war two era)

Basically if you can think of any time period, there is an Anord alive somewhere either chilling or fucking someone’s wife. 

THE BODY:

So now that we know more about Anord’s mental insides lets learn about his physical insides

Bro has no bones 💀

Pure Chaos is VERY hard to control. He has to have conscious effort to keep his body in human shape. When he’s not doing well, a lot of the times he locks himself in his room because he doesn’t have the effort for all of his cosmetic details (he goes bald :hearts:)

Another thing is that pure chaos HURTS LIKE HELL when you want to change forms. Imagine staying in one place for so long and then you have to rip all of your atoms away from their spot and rearrange them into something new. Yeowch. 

His body can be in 3 states basically.

FORM 1: goop

green

Jello + honey texture (thick and not opaque. Jiggly.)

Tiny (could fit in your hands if you cupped them together)

Adorable (just a little guy)

Nonverbal (Its mouth can only eat)

Really likes milk (it makes him grow)

A small little slime guy. He slides around and bites ankles. He only goes into this form when weak/wounded because he heals faster. This is what his form looks like when he doesn’t force it into human shape. 

FORM 2: egg

Human shape (from the outside it looks absolutely normal)

Literally just skin and outside bits (like eyes and teeth)

Just goop on the inside (no bones, organs, blood, nothing)

Green on the inside

He is in this form most of the time lately. I call this the egg form because he’s just a shell with slime inside. You can tell if he’s in this form if he bleeds/spits/cries green chaos goop. This form occurs when he puts all of his effort into his outside appearance. Why would he need to waste brain usage to form organs and bones and such when nobody’s gonna see that? He can function without those things. 

FORM 3: ooo you wanna be a human sooo baaad

Human shape

Has organs and innards and everthing

No green anywhere (except his eyeballs)

This is the form he’s mainly in when he’s strong enough. Basically an asshole human guy.

[boomer-doomer]

Coffee Shop Catastrophes - Colin Zabel x F!Reader

“Amid the chaos, I bumped into you lightly, a clumsy touch, but it felt just right. A quiet smile, a spark so clear, I turned your world and chased away the fear.”

Synopsis: Amid the chaotic frenzy of a busy morning at the café, filled with the clattering of cups, the hiss of steaming milk, and the constant hum of conversation, you find yourself unexpectedly encountering an awkward and clumsy detective amongst the pandemonium.

Character: Colin Zabel (Evan Peters)

WC: 2,241

Warnings: ANGST | FLUFF | MENTIONS OF DEATH | DEPRESSION | lmk if I missed any! <3 (My first fic in four years btw, probably not the best)

“I’ll try to find you in every lifetime, and I’ll try to find you sooner so that maybe we’ll have more time together.” Those words echo in your mind like a broken record. They were his last words—your fiancée’s. As a twenty-eight-year-old woman, you thought you had it all: a nice two-bedroom apartment, a couple of cats, and a loving, adoring soon-to-be husband. However, the universe always has a way of playing cruel jokes.

It was four years into your relationship when your fiancé was diagnosed with cancer in his shoulder. It seemed manageable. You thought it was just a minor issue that would be easy to fix. But it was only three months later that you had to rush him to the hospital in the middle of the night. What you both believed was a resolved issue turned out to be much worse. The cancer hadn’t been completely removed, and it had spread quickly. Just like that, you lost him. You haven’t been the same since; the time you had together was stripped away too soon. You’ve felt drained, empty, and exhausted.

The morning after his final breaths was haunting. His last words stuck with you, breaking your heart and haunting your thoughts. Today marks six months since his death—April 21st. This day feels worse than usual; the nightmares are more vivid, and you wake up feeling more depressed than ever. His death torments you, even in your dreams; there’s no escape. To make matters worse, you’ve been assigned a twelve-hour shift at the office today. While it’s not a physically demanding job, it is still draining. So, what better way to cope with an overcast and rainy October day than by grabbing a cup of warm coffee from your favorite café?

Today, however, you felt something unexpected, and it surprised you that it came from a simple encounter with a disorganized man at the coffee shop. As you entered the cozy shop, eager for coffee before your grueling shift, you collided with him as he rushed in. His motion caused your scalding hot coffee to spill all over your front, and you let out a loud gasp, along with him.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, miss—are you alright?!” he apologized profusely while awkwardly gathering an abundance of napkins to clean the coffee off your drenched shirt, trying to avoid your chest.

You quickly took charge, removing your jacket to alleviate some of the pain. A small burn mark stained your shirt, and you used the napkins to soak it up as best you could. Breathing rapidly, you fought the urge to scream in agony amidst the bustling coffee shop. You wouldn’t wish this pain on your worst enemy right now, and you could vaguely hear him apologizing and panicking in the background, which brought you back to focus.

“Let me make it up to you, please—let me buy you a new coffee?” he offered, a worried yet hopeful expression on his face. Neither of you expected your morning to unfold like this.

That’s how you ended up sitting across a small table from him, next to a large window. The rain gently pattered against the glass as you stirred some extra sweetener into your new coffee. You learned that his name was Colin Zabel, a 36-year-old detective. He started a lot of small talk while ordering your new drink. To your surprise, he even added an extra bagel for compensation.

Colin quickly noticed how empty and distressed you seemed—the dark circles under your eyes, how you shut down most of his attempts at conversation, and the sluggishness of your movements. He felt a surge of sympathy, recognizing the signs of someone who was deeply crestfallen. How could he just leave you feeling alone like that? His persistent attempts to engage you were fueled by an internal goal to elicit even a small positive reaction from you, to brighten your day, however slightly. He felt it was the least he could do.

As you absently picked at the edges of the bagel, your mind wandered back to the haunting memory of your fiancé’s last words. Colin’s presence, however, seemed to cut through the fog of your thoughts, his kind eyes quietly watching you. He didn’t push for more than what you were willing to give, but his patience and quiet understanding were something you hadn’t expected to find today. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if he recognized the space you needed without making you feel like you were being pitied. After a few moments, he broke the silence again, but this time his voice was softer, more genuine.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but… I know what it feels like to lose someone,” he said, his eyes briefly flickering to the window as if lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Sometimes the world doesn’t feel like it makes sense anymore.”

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to invite him into the labyrinth of your grief. But something about his sincerity made it feel safer than usual like you weren’t alone in your quiet suffering.

For a moment, you looked at him, studying his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, any hint of someone simply trying to be polite. But there was nothing. His expression was calm, almost distant as if he was offering a piece of himself without expecting anything in return. You felt a strange urge to share—to tell him about the empty ache in your chest that seemed to follow you everywhere, the unbearable weight of losing someone who had been your entire world. But the words caught in your throat, tangled in the web of pain and grief. Instead, you nodded slowly, the simple acknowledgment of his words enough for now.

“Yeah,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the café. “Sometimes it feels like the world just keeps spinning, and I’m… stuck.”

Colin didn’t rush to respond, his gaze never leaving you, as if he was giving you the space to say more if you wanted. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something that felt like a flicker of light in the darkness.

Colin didn’t press further, but his quiet presence felt like a balm, soothing the jagged edges of your thoughts. He simply gave a small nod, his fingers gently tapping the side of his coffee cup, as if thinking carefully about how to approach the delicate moment.

“I get it,” he said after a pause, his voice low and steady. “The world doesn’t stop for you. It keeps moving, and sometimes it feels like you’re just… trying to catch up, right?”

You nodded again, the words resonating in a way that surprised you. It was the first time in months that anyone had spoken to you like they understood—not in a sympathetic, pitying way, but as if they had felt the same heavy burden you carried. His words lingered in the air between you, unspoken comfort filling the space where your grief had once felt isolating. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

You took a slow sip of your coffee, the warmth of it offering a brief respite from the chill that had settled in your bones. The conversation seemed to open a door, one that you hadn’t realized had been shut so tightly. You could feel the tension in your chest ease, just a fraction, as if the weight of your grief wasn’t entirely yours to carry anymore. For a moment, you let yourself breathe without the constant pressure of loss bearing down on you. Colin’s gaze softened as he watched you, but he didn’t intrude, giving you the space you needed.

“I know it’s not the same,” he continued quietly, “but it gets easier. Not in the way people always say, but in a way that’s… different. You start to find ways to live with it. Not move on, but live with it.”

His words were simple, but there was a depth in them that made you wonder if he, too, had spent years learning how to carry the weight of something he couldn’t change. You wanted to ask him, wanted to know more, but the fear of letting someone into that part of your soul held you back. Still, a small part of you wanted to trust him, just enough to take another step forward.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the urge to ask burning in the back of your mind. But instead, you found yourself gazing out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, almost hypnotic in its consistency. There was something about the rhythm of it that mirrored the stillness in your heart, the quiet that had settled in since the loss.

“How do you… how do you live with it?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice barely above a whisper.

Colin didn’t seem surprised by your question. He leaned back slightly, his eyes thoughtful, as if he had been asked this before, but it was no less heavy for him now.

“You don’t figure it out all at once,” he said slowly. “You just… take it day by day. Some days are better, some are worse. And sometimes, it’s just about finding those small moments of peace, however brief they may be. You don’t get over it, but you learn to find a way through.” His voice was steady, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored yours—unspoken, but real.

You let the silence fall again, the weight of his words settling around you like a blanket. You felt the weight of his words settle in your chest, a strange comfort beginning to replace the numbness. But before you could fully process it, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality. You glanced down at the screen, your stomach sinking as you saw the time. It was already later than you thought. You quickly swiped it open to see a reminder of your shift—your twelve-hour shift, that was starting in less than thirty minutes. A wave of exhaustion hit you, a stark reminder of the life you were still living, despite the ache in your heart. You looked up at Colin, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I… I hate to cut this short, but I have to get to work.” The words felt heavy, the last thing you wanted to do after a conversation that had made you feel something again. Colin nodded, a knowing look crossing his face.

“I get it. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he said with a gentle smile. There was no pressure in his voice, just understanding. You smiled back, though it felt bittersweet as if the warmth he offered was already slipping away.

You stood up slowly, gathering your things, feeling the weight of the conversation linger in the air between you. For a brief moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should just leave without saying more. But then you looked at Colin again, the soft kindness in his eyes reminding you that maybe it wasn’t the end of this fleeting connection.

“Thanks, Colin,” you said quietly, the words feeling more meaningful than you intended. “I didn’t expect… any of this today. But I’m glad we talked.” He offered a small smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he stood up as well.

“Anytime,” he said simply, his voice warm. “I hope the rest of your day gets a little easier.” You nodded, a soft sigh escaping your lips as if his words had already begun to soothe you, even if just for the moment.

You walked toward the door, and as you stepped outside into the cool, rain-soaked air, you felt a small shift inside yourself—a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you had been feeling.

As you stepped into the rain, the chill of the October air hitting your skin, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. It wasn’t just the brief conversation or the warmth Colin had offered. It was the sense that, for the first time in a long while, someone had seen you—not just the version of yourself that went through the motions, but the broken part that was still healing. You walked a few paces, lost in thought, before glancing down at the coffee cup in your hand. A small piece of paper was tucked beneath the edge of the cup. Frowning, you lifted it and unfolded it, surprised to see a neatly written note.

“In case you ever need me to brighten up your day, :]. - Colin Zabel, xxx-xxx-xxx.”

You paused for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. His number. Your fingers traced the paper, a rush of warmth spreading through you despite the rain. You hadn’t expected this—a part of you had assumed he’d simply disappear into the background of your life like everyone else. But here he was, offering you a way out of the isolation, a thread to pull on if you ever needed it. Your grip on the cup tightened slightly, and for the first time in months, you felt the stirrings of something new. Maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that it was okay to reach out again.

@msmzz

[lubdubology]

Maaaaaaaaaare.

He hums quietly, taking to her left to allow her access to the stair’s rail, “You possess more of a head for direction than any other woman I’ve had the pleasure to know,” he chuckles, his elbow extending politely, the nod of his chin gesturing for her to loop her arm through his. “I trust you implicitly in this, my dear.” 

I'm telling you right now, if any man spoke to me like this, I'd be putty in his hands.

His warmth intoxicates her blood, she’s keening beneath his quiet shadow — she can’t breathe properly when his gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth. It’s that Hollywood moment everyone talks about, but few ever experience, and her skin explodes with chill when he manages to pull in a sharp little inhale that straightens his spine, squares back his shoulders.  Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, her toes curl within her sneakers — it’s almost surely that moment. Her brain laps with the thought of kissing him, wondering how he’d taste; experiencing for the first time how a kiss could shatter the very glass ceiling of the known universe. 

His brow lifts, curiously, “It would please me if you’d allow me to kiss you,” with all seriousness he graces her with title, breath shallow and even. He edges her a little closer, and almost mindlessly, she lifts on her toes to meet his angle. “I’ve wanted to do so since the first moment I heard you say my name.” His lower lip rolls in, tempted, “Say my name. Speak it, and I’ll be yours.” 

Hi!! For your valentines day event I was hoping to get a drabble with Charlie Kenton or Leopold! You pick! I'm leaving this totally up to you and PG-13 is okay, I'm 23 and use she/her pronouns o7

tysm!!

— Renaissance

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader

tags: fluff, some backstory added in for context, reader is an ex-girlfriend of Stuart's, Kate x Stuart mentions, definitely some blue balling of a kiss.

a/n: this definitely got away from me, honey! I haven't ever played with Leopold, and it was so much fun! This was quite the challenge. I've kinda been in a writing funk the last few days, so I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this, but, please enjoy it anyway, if you can!

☆ ── 💌FROM MARE WITH LOVE

They don’t lie about the city that never sleeps. 

It doesn’t, not truly. Sunlight may exit left and give way to starlight, but the city’s blood never stops pumping in its concrete veins. Forever time starved and anorexic in the thrumming life of a big city, there’s never enough of the twenty-four seven left.

The clock always spins out of control, there’s always a redline, nothing is ever on time but somehow, also, never truly late. 

Anonymous faces are millions among millions, rubbing elbows and fighting to look away all while never really accomplishing the task – one is truly nameless in a neverending current, without really even having to be anyone at all. 

New York is a Goliath that breathes unlike any other giant of its kind, and she didn’t really realize how right Hollywood got it until her sneakers had scuffed Jamaica Station’s dirty pavement three weeks ago, feet throbbing as her calf muscles all but lacerated from bone.

Still, the chill of spring cutting through her clothes kissed her in the early mornings, watching the fingers of skyscrapers reaching from the earth into flat, gray sky.

It had taken an hour tracking her luggage, fighting the hive of bodies at JFK on a Friday – that crushing feeling of being packed into open air like a sardine had her head spinning, buildings and street signs blurring together like watercolors. 

Veins of taxi-yellow had conquered her dreams the first night she’d dreamed, curled under comfortable blankets in her college best friend’s apartment — she’d lost a cab to a local, who’d all but shoved her off the curb with nothing so much as a by-your-leave. 

Cabs mocked her, public transportation chuckled and would shake its head, if possible, at the naive little lamb behind her eyes, taking in the wilds of the urban jungle all too much of the first time. 

Her first day alone in the city, Stuart had warned her not to venture far from the apartment without escort – his vacation from his mad scientist work didn’t start until the weekend. “We’ll go out and you can get your first taste of the city, just you wait — but stay here. Bart needs the company anyway,” he’d offered nothing else, naturally. Stuart never had felt a need to share important details. 

Simply just thrust the half-abandoned coffee in his Back to the Future mug into her hand as she took up the doorway to his room, speaking around the pencil between his teeth as he wrangled into a jacket.  

And Bart was quiet enough, sure. She liked dogs — her parents had four of them at the farm, coupled with the flocks of geese and chicken, horses and the odd smattering of dairy cows laying around the lazy sunlight of spring. 

They’d all but donned black in grief when she announced she would be taking time in New York to see Stuart, the man she was supposed to be married to, if heaven allowed. 

Overwhelmed at the prospect of their progeny returning to the only man who had ever bothered to date her romantically, they’d deflated as soon as the evidence became irreconcilable — Stuart’s girlfriend, Kate, would be only a phone call away if she needed anything. 

Her mother had gasped so audibly it could be heard from the team currently bunking at the International Space Station. 

But where Bart was good company she could handle, Stuart’s unexplained roommate — Leo, no, Leopold right? –  was not.

Very much unexplained, actually, his presence in her ex’s apartment.

Stranger things certainly happened within the lines of New York City, she knew. And Stuart hadn’t felt it necessary to share this information with her the first night in.

What a guy. 

She’d almost felt her heart eviscerating into atoms when she’d padded out of Stuart’s room in socks, a too-big Batman T-shirt and sleeping shorts — thank God she's opened to sleep clothed. Looking like hell warmed over and in desperate need of caffeine, to boot.

Stuart didn’t possess a mirror in his room, and a passing glance by the TV offered somewhat of a reflection that confirmed she’d slept like the dead. Hair similar to something from the 80s, wilding in every direction – hadn’t even bothered.

Why would she? This was Stuart’s apartment, he confirmed he lived alone. Or, well — had. Past tense. 

Last night’s booze from Stuart’s tragic supply of in-apartment food still lingered in the back of her mouth, threatened to make a reappearance when Leopold had just  stood up from the couch in the living space, stretching long arms over his head in a catlike, very-much-there stretch. 

Stars aligned and her anatomy reborn in places you don’t confess, in the blink of an eye. As he’d come about sharply on his foot, wide eyed and milk white with surprise, as if she were the unexpected intrusion into Stuart’s little apartment. 

Three weeks ago she’d thrown War and Peace at the Duke of Albany’s head, all but threatening decapitation. An offense that, in Leopold’s time, surely, would have her head rolling. 

She believed him, of course. Why would he lie about time travel? Why would Stuart have scientific evidence and K-Mart photographs, all for lies? Stuart didn’t even like K-Mart.

He could barely carry on a conversation with the same barista he’d been getting coffee from for three years. 

It wasn't unthinkable, time travel. God himself had parted seas, held the sun in place for Joshua. Time travel was not beyond the realm of the Almighty, reasons aside.

How and why didn’t really matter, not in the blip of a grand scheme of a person’s life — Leopold had stumbled into the modern age for a reason, bless him. For what, who was to know? 

Divisions of her were grateful, three weeks into the arrangement, to not be the only one in the city not from here. To have company that understood the shock and awe of new wonders, of a city with it’s own voice.

Leopold was as naive and innocent to this world as she was to New York, a combination she found riveting and more thrilling than she’d admit in therapy. A renaissance man in an era that had forgotten renaissance. 

What a trip. “Lost in your thoughts again, hm?” 

Jarred by the light brush of Leopold’s hand against the back of her own as they cut through the bodies clogging  the afternoon sidewalk, she tucks a little closer to his side. Rests a stabilizing hand on his arm, trying not to knock into those waiting at the crosswalk. 

Often during these last three weeks, she got so lost thinking not only about Leopold’s situation, but him — how he takes up more space than God, but not in an aggressive way. A smile as bright and lovely as any Monet, that races the sun.

How his otherworldly charm cracks like a whip when he wants it to but isn’t cutting or belittling to those without — and the way he moves. Regal and alive in a way that’s as raw and natural as the world beneath her feet. 

He’s more alive than any man she’d ever known, so otherworldly. 

Reading a thousand fantasy manuscripts in her nine-to-five had ruined her for most men in the world, the idea so far away in between pages font choice. Nobody of Leopold’s caliber existed outside of fiction, she’d stake her life on it. The upper echelon was an understatement—people just didn’t dare dream about men like him.

A prince charming on a white horse— minus the horse and the Cinderella-esque backdrop. 

“Yeah, just a little,” her spine straightens a little more as his hand comes to linger at the low of her back, a sort of medieval courtesy that’s only ever written about. It sparks low embers in the fire of her gut as they cross the street with the others, she nods towards the subway stairs cutting down into the earth,  “Sorry, just—thinking. We’re going this way, I think,” puffing out a breath, “if my sense of direction is right.”  

He hums quietly, taking to her left to allow her access to the stair’s rail, “You possess more of a head for direction than any other woman I’ve had the pleasure to know,” he chuckles, his elbow extending politely, the nod of his chin gesturing for her to loop her arm through his.

“I trust you implicitly in this, my dear.” 

My dear.

Her heart kicks like a mule against her ribs.

“Such blind faith you have, Leo,” her nose scrunches, and she dips her gaze to her feet lest he notice the pop of color on her cheeks, “Could be leading us to Timbuktu for all you know—I’ve never been to New York. You probably know this city better than me, my lord.” 

His chest rumbles with a low, pleasant chuckle that’s almost growling.

“A venture to Timbuktu does not sound so unpleasant, such company considered."

His smile is genuine, nearly flawless—wrinkles around his eyes deepen with the effort as he leans in to whisper in her ear, “And—do be careful about such flattery, my lady. I’m prone to blushing under the attentions of the fairer sex.”  

Heat pouncing into the pit of her stomach, she swallows the gaps that threaten to knock her back teeth.

For all of a few seconds she expects to be speechless, but his endlessly charming wink produced a wry little smile of her own. 

“Is that right?” Elbowing him gently in the ribs, she giggles, “You don’t strike me as the type to blush, Leo,” brushing a curl behind her ear, “especially not with the ladies—not with all that suave charm. I still can’t believe you’re not married in your world,”

It's a topic she’d been hesitant to address, but he’d assured her he didn’t mind discussion the affairs of marriage over the course of their quick and blossoming companionship.

“But I understand. To give your heart away is a divine act. To love, well — that’s selfless. And hard.” 

He nods, once. Firmly. Too firmly for a man of his stature.

“Indeed. If I recall my uncle’s frustrations properly, ‘tis one of my many fiercely tiresome flaws, I’m afraid,” the venom behind his words is contained, but on a blade’s edge. Wlilling to fly at any moment.

The muscle in his jaw ticks with effort, “And to love is to be selfless, certainly, though in some cases it demands more of us than we think we can bear.” 

Weighty shadows behind his eyes shoves her into silent corners. 

Her arm slides through his proffered one like it’s the easiest thing in the world, more at home at his side than she’s ever felt. Leopold leads her down the stairs graciously, hand over hers on his arm in a sort of protection she’d only ever seen depicted in period films.

The landing comes up quickly, and he guides her a little closer to his side in the crowd, until her hip brushes his. And how the fibers of her jacket kiss the little pull of Stuart’s leather jacket draped across his frame may as well topple mountains in her soul.

The maw of the subway track looms beyond them, dark and ominous, more dungeon-esque than she’d ever imagined.

People pile in. Open air shrinks around them rapidly, forcing her to a snug against Leopold’s side that, by all counts, is far too intimate for her conservative liking.

He doesn’t seem to mind, however, too busy watching people and eyeballing for the train. She can feel the thrum of his heart from here, the bite of aftershave he’d borrowed from Stuart so alive on his skin it may as well reach out to smack her. 

His hand firms over hers still looped through his arm, the rumble of an engine in the darkness signaling the arrival of their train.

“Extraordinary,” he shakes his head, marveled as the subway comes up quickly in a burst of light and steel. It pulls to a sharp stop as the doors pop open with a static hiss, and Leopold is frozen in an airy, almost fond, wonder. 

“Whoever would have thought, beneath this very city. Boggling, simply wondrous.”  

Taking her arm, he tugs her forward into the car not at all unlike an eager child. A sweeping gaze down the length of the car and Leopold decides they will stand, reaching above his head for the standing bar.

His chest opens to a broad that empties her mouth of any and all moisture as she collects her breathing, straightens the line of her long jacket. 

She situates her purse when Leopold’s arm gently slips around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest beneath his arm. His smile down at her is soft, a tender gaze considering the features of her face as she shyly peers up at him through her lashes.

Here against his ribs, she can feel the throb of his heart, how his lungs fill with breath and empty steadily, like the rising of the sun. 

And he’s so beautiful, so everything she’d only ever wrote about in diaries and film and poetry she’d never showed the world. 

His warmth intoxicates her blood, she’s keening beneath his quiet shadow — she can’t breathe properly when his gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth.

It’s that Hollywood moment everyone talks about, but few ever experience, and her skin explodes with chill when he manages to pull in a sharp little inhale that straightens his spine, squares back his shoulders. 

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, her toes curl within her sneakers — it’s almost surely that moment. Her brain laps with the thought of kissing him, wondering how he’d taste; experiencing for the first time how a kiss could shatter the very glass ceiling of the known universe. 

At one point in her life, she’d never imagined kissing anyone but Stuart—the man her parents loved like a son. How long ago that felt, almost as if it were another lifetime, on another planet. 

She can’t fathom how, in any time, he’d be the right man when the right man stands right in front of her. 

His arm around her shoulders shifts to gently skip his thumb along her arm, tenderly. “Do you know you are beautiful thing?”

A small smile forms around the words when her eyes snap up, breathlessly, and Leopold drops his hand from the standing bar above them to tip her chin up with tender fingers, “I have seen many women in my time, but few so fiercely beautiful,” his eyes hold hers, and she can’t help but notice he swallows a little breath.

“Stuart is a foolish man, letting you slip away if he truly once possessed you as his own. Unimaginable.” 

Tears well behind her lashes, his warmth pounding at walls around her heart. The way he looks at her, his eyes soft and so deeply honest, rattles her places she can’t quite identify. It’s like ripping open heavy curtains to a darkened room deprived of sunlight, flinching at pervasive light. Hurts, but in a good way—like removing a thorn. 

And there are thorns to remove, many of them — Stuart had contributed little to what the world has done. 

Looking away, she goes to step out from beneath his arm. Leopold retaliates, pressing her closer, his arm firm along her shoulders. Unyielding, like a sentinel pillar.

Wanting to rest a hand on his chest, she pulls it away as if he is a furnace — the heavy throb of his heart beneath her hand is all too hot, all too intimate, to fathom. 

His brow lifts, curiously, “It would please me if you’d allow me to kiss you,” with all seriousness he graces her with title, breath shallow and even.

He edges her a little closer, and almost mindlessly, she lifts on her toes to meet his angle.

“I’ve wanted to do so since the first moment I heard you say my name.” His lower lip rolls in, tempted, “Say my name. Speak it, and I’ll be yours.” 

It escapes her, suddenly, how many times she’s said his name in the last three weeks — but it doesn’t matter. Now it takes on an entirely new meaning, a weight that threatens to change the small universe between them.

Only able to be reborn beneath his gaze, she feels her chest swelling with warm pride—with a riotous joy that rattles her all the way down. 

Never had she imagined hearing such words, such love. In seconds, she’s Aphrodite, lost to the ages in the weight of his gaze, adrift in his words. Who even spoke like that, anymore? Nobody, she knows — nobody here, nobody like you. It only could be the words of a man out of time, a man in renaissance.  

Weighing the weight of his name on her tongue, she swallows how wrong the short of Leo feels, now.

He can never be Leo again — Leo was a man shacking up with her ex boyfriend in New York City, starry eyed and funny in his innocence. A friend, someone she could enjoy talking to. 

He no longer existed. Leopold took his place, burying any boyish fantasy between them.

He was a man, standing like the sun, extending to her a sort of thing only ever envisioned. Where Leo was a boyish wonder, Leopold was a man of purpose, driven. Powerful. Man enough to bend the very boughs of time and space. 

Her lips form around the syllables and consonants of his name. And it tastes so good, a sweet thing that she’ll dine on with every breath God decides to lend.

How many times does she say his name to make him hers? A hundred? A thousand?

Uncountable lifetimes of him would never be enough. 

So she says it again, again, again and again. 

“Leopold.” 

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

@kmc1989

@steviebbboi

@matronmothercrone

[ltorekdraws]

the fuck i made

[danielnelsen]

while i get where this comes from and it’s true to an extent, i reeeaaaally don’t like how people try to explain “trans men don’t [necessarily] have male privilege” with things like “some trans men don’t pass”.

like sure that’s the most obvious example (someone who is seen as a woman won’t have the privilege that comes with being seen a man) but you’re still acting like being a passing trans man is just a free opt-in to male privilege which is………kinda the issue.

[somerandomcockroach]

My brain malfunctioned and I was digging in MTMTE the whole day, forgot to blink, kicked pillow 8 times and was talking with my reflection 6 times

Ended up with 60+ screenshots of nerds being socially awkward/abnormal/straightforward because we use books to talk, not people, silly, cool or sweet, or just facts ahah

[nekoyin]

so I saw this at class, did it, thought I posted it, turns out I didnt so TAKE TWO

ty for the tag <3 I'm gonna do my husband of almost a decade now Poe Dameron

1. Was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you? lowkey fell in love with that pretty ass face from the start THEN HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AND WAS SASSY??? also love me a man who'd punch a person in power that's hot 

2. What’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo? uh uh uh yes (if I had to choose, his passion and want to free people from the First Order/the fact he's a revolutionary)

3. What's the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo? the fact he's not real and kissing me rn :( (and that he risks his life a lot of the time to try and save as people as he can, it's noble, but it worries me ;;;;)

4. If you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them? I love you. I'll always support you no matter what UNLESS YOU GO ONE SOME STUPID SUICIDE MISSION DON'T DIE I'LL CRY :(((

5. What's the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo? I think that Poe being a flirt is a thing, but I don't see him being like this fuckboy that lays with people and doesn't care/forgets names afterwards. He seems the type to remember everyone's names, whether or not he is friends with them enough to sleep with them if that makes sense. 

6. Is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert? Extrovert 

7. Describe your Blorbo in 3 words. pretty, brave, dumb (affectionate)

8. If your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life? Yes. Absolutely. He seems the protective type so I am SAFE

9. Do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo? THEY ARE SO FED UP WITH ME YAPPING ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM LMFAO 

10. Is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely? Nah bro i lowkey like my men a lil insane so

11. Do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer? Mixed. Cuz I like angst, but I need a happy ending. 

12. Do you ship your Blorbo with any character? ME DUH (and kinda Finn but I relate to Finn a lot so what that say bout us)

13. If your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?  YAH he was my introduction to Oscar Isaac

14. Would you still love your Blorbo if they were real? YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. HOW BAD. I AM TRYING TO GET A REAL LIFE POE DAMERON TO DATE. PLEASE UNIVERSE ONE CHANCE ONE-

15. Is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon? Yes imo and it makes me so so sad :(

16. If you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be? I think I'd change the fact that he tried to get back with Zorii, I don't mind her existence, but she was literally abusive POE BABY WHY ARE YOU ASKING TO KISS HER YOU SHOULD BE KISSING ME :(((

17. When you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo? Oh I was torn between him and Kylo initially, but I knew I'd like Poe more for longer… didn't really expect this long though HAHAHA

18. Do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo? I TRY TO BUT HE'S TOO POPULAR :( People are like “oh I'm his biggest fan/spouse” and I'm like GET OUT YOU JUST JOINED THIS FANDOM IVE BEEN HERE SINCE DAY ONEEEEE /hj

19. Has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry? Thinking about him can make me cry. I'm trying to write a fic rn that the PREMISE made me cry (I’m sensitive)

20. Do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now? I'VE BEEN HERE ALMOST TEN YEARS BABY IT AIN'T EVER STOPPING

uhh idk who to tag but @latenightbrawler pookie look at the thoughts about my husband

20 Questions

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

It was immediate. Watching Steven flounder then discovering the tragedy that is Marc. I started on the show, then began collecting the comics.

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

I loved the representation of DID, autism and childhood trauma.

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

We barely got any Jake in the show, and he’s such a fantastic character in the comics. Comic Jake is the only way I can imagine him. Moustache and all.

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

Not a thing. He’d get a damn hug.

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

I think every adaptation is unique to that person and they’re wonderful for sharing. I’m a hoe for every crumb I’m not even sorry.

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

Depends who’s fronting. Steven’s an ambivert: extroverted to avoid the feeling of loneliness, introverted in his hobbies and day-to-day. Marc’s a huge introvert and doesn’t like many people, how Frenchie puts up with him I don’t know. Jake is a natural extrovert, it comes easy to him to find a friend in anyone.

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

Damaged hot mess

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

Most likely… kinda. Squinting real hard at you, Khonshu.

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

My partner can’t get away from my obsession. My brother brought me the same MK action figure Marc's holding in the asylum. It was really unexpected and touching. They let me drag them all over the city stopping in as many comic stores as I could visit.

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

Mean to animals would make me very sad.

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

Every damn day of the week.

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

I ship him with anyone and everyone, it’s such a problem. I love all ships in all shapes and sizes. All the new ships coming out of Marvel Rivals has sustained me well lately.

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

Oscar Isaac is one of the best humans alive. I love his face, his personality—everything. He made it easy to love the characters he plays.

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

Probably. I’d always be rooting for him that’s for sure.

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

Kind of. How they handled Jake suucked.

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

Make comics Jake canon!

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

I didn’t expect to go down as bad as I did. It wasn’t until I started writing him in 1x1 & group roleplays was where I truly fell down the hole.

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

No gatekeeping allowed in this house! I am thrilled anytime more people discover MK by any means. It’s so much fun seeing new people arrive and interact with the fandom.

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

Not a fanfic, but episode 5 made me ball. Hit close to home. I’m not one to cry easily so have yet to find a fanfic that will.

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

Probably, I still have a lot more to write and explore.

Questions posted below empty for easy copy paste:

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

Inspired by the wonderful @psycheetamore Hitting a few others I'd love to see do this! @mystra-midnight @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @faretheeoscar @moonbeammist @therapardalis @weheartchrisevans @silvermoon343

[aunnokokyuu]

what if YOU were a poor little animation studio who kept straightifying the very homosexual moments between a tiger and a malnourished victorian child in order to make the anime more appealing to the general public. but THE MANGAKA HIMSELF said NO here’s a scene where said malnourished victorian child sensually bites the tiger’s neck while he’s transformed as a vampire and U HAVE TO ANIMATE IT THIS TIME BCS ITS IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT!!! now bones if you straightify that scene like you did to akutagawa telling atsushi to run you fool then you can trust that i’ll find you more than you trust in god