#idk if im happy with how little i made lmao

[bat-gwuck]

Okay so this is my entry for @drizzledrawings competition!! Get ready for a whole ass fucking wall of text…whoopsie!!

anyway drizzle i love u and ur cowbians they me goofy-grin-on-my-face-kicking-my-feet happy — u and ur art are such an inspiration mwah!!

—

I present to you my entry: Adelaide Forsythe – a travelling scholar and astronomer who’s shifter form is a magpie!

So, starting off with the animal choice. I chose a magpie for two reasons: one, I’m a bird nerd and two, I felt like the symbolism attached to magpies really fit her character??

As a member of the Corvidae family, Magpies are known for being quite intelligent, as well as having a love for shiny objects (get it, get it, she’s a scholar and she loves stars which are SHINY…I’m so smart guys)

BUT BUT BUT there’s a lot of folklore attached to them which I thought was also fitting – my Mum is like *really* superstitious and growing up she always had me salute magpies and you had to ask how its “wife” was doing if it was on its own bc (apparently) if you didn’t you’d be inviting bad luck – there’s a little song/poem that goes “one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told” so the idea is that if you see a lone magpie its an ill omen so you salute it n stuff to ward all that away bc you don’t have to salute a pair of magpies

Or maybe its just smth my Mum does idk BUT ANYWAY

I thought I could play with this a little bc in some cultures magpies are acc seen as signs of good luck and fortune, which brings me to Adelaide: she is an academic in an untamed land, an outsider among both frontier folk and the scholars who dismissed her, she longs for scientific recognition, yet finds freedom outside of its rigid institutions, she is a woman in a world that has no clear place for her—too independent for England’s high society and yet too refined for the lawless frontier. Like the magpie, she adapts, moving in a space that both welcomes and rejects her.

THEN, you have the “seven for a secret never to be told” which I felt was fitting for a shifter who doesn’t want to be found out AND THEN the “three for a girl, four for a boy” fit a bit as well, as she often poses as a man to further her academic pursuits (bit a stretch, maybe?? but idc im rolling with it)

In addition, magpies were almost hunted to extinction because people were so afraid of them, which I felt also fit with her place as not just a woman, but a woman in academia AND a shifter who’s trying her best not to get found out and skinned or smth. They’re ALSO associated with witchcraft, which fits too!!

Anyway enough about magpies, onto the actual character lmao.

—

Adelaide’s defining trait is her insatiable curiosity. She is a woman who cannot look at the night sky without wondering what lies beyond it, who cannot hear a folk tale without questioning its origins, who cannot witness an injustice without demanding to know why the world is the way it is. She does not simply observe the world—she dissects it. Whether it’s the trajectory of a comet or the migration of birds, she sees patterns and logic in everything. Even when confronted with superstition, she doesn’t scoff outright—she analyzes, compares, and tries to understand why people believe what they do.

She does not downplay her knowledge for the comfort of others. When a man tries to explain something she already knows, she listens politely for about ten seconds before cutting him off with a far more detailed explanation. Her sharp tongue has made her enemies in both academic circles and the rugged frontier. She is rather exacting in her speech, rarely mincing her words. She dislikes vague statements, preferring specificity in all things. When others say "a bright star," she responds with, "Do you mean Sirius, Betelgeuse, or Vega?" This can make her seem arrogant, though in truth, she simply values accuracy. Besides, if anyone has earnt the right to be a bit arrogant, Adelaide would say it’s her.

Yet, for all her logic, there is an undercurrent of childlike wonder beneath her nose-stuck-in-a-book personality. The moment she gazes through her telescope, or rides the wind bathed in starlight, all pretense falls away, and she becomes a child staring at the heavens for the first time again.

Adelaide has always been an outsider, whether in Oxford’s elite intellectual circles or the rugged towns of the West. She does not belong to any one world, and she has long since given up trying to fit in. While she values solitude, there is a quiet ache of loneliness beneath her independence. She spends many nights staring at the sky, comforted by its constancy, yet knowing that the stars cannot speak back to her. In Oxford, she was too bold, too opinionated, too unwilling to be a wife first and a scholar second. In the West, she is too refined, too intellectual, too ignorant of the ways of outlaws and bounty hunters. She is always “too much” or “not enough” for the world around her.

Adelaide does not easily trust others, not just because of her “little secret”. She has met too many people who have either underestimated her or tried to use her intelligence for their own gain. When she does form connections, she values them deeply, though she often struggles to express this in words. Instead, she shows her care through small, practical gestures. Yet, despite her walls, there are moments—rare but profound—when someone earns her trust, and the walls crack just enough for light to slip through.

She keeps meticulous journals filled with astronomical calculations, weather patterns, and folk stories she gathers from the people she meets. Her saddlebags are filled with star charts, old books, and curious trinkets.

Once she sets her mind to something, she will not be dissuaded. If someone tells her a mountain is impossible to climb, she will reach the peak just to prove them wrong. It is both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw.

She has little patience for those who exploit others, whether it be a professor stealing credit for a woman’s discovery or a wealthy rancher cheating his workers. She does not take kindly to men who assume they can buy her loyalty or silence.

Though she claims she prefers to stay out of trouble, she has a habit of stepping in when someone is being mistreated. She does not pick fights often, but when she does, her words cut deeper than bullets. Adelaide does not resort to violence unless absolutely necessary, but she will ruin a man’s reputation, expose a fraud, or leave damning evidence where the right people can find it. She believes in the long game – vengeance is best served cold, calculated, and with irrefutable proof. She did learn some things from her upper class upbringing, after all.

Beneath her sharp intellect and hardened exterior, Adelaide has a deeply buried, fragile softness – one she rarely allows herself to indulge. She denies being sentimental, yet she cannot help but stop to admire a field of wildflowers or the way the Milky Way stretches across the sky. She has a poetic way of describing the cosmos, though she would never call herself a poet. Though she claims she does not care for fame, a small part of her fears that when she is gone, her work will be erased, her name lost. She has spent her life chasing knowledge, but in the quietest moments, she often wonders if anyone will remember her.

—

Born in 1871 in Oxford, England, Adelaide Forsythe was the only child of Dr. Reginald Forsythe, a respected academic who specialised in mathematics and astronomy, and Margaret Forsythe, a woman of high social standing whose primary concern was ensuring her daughter’s successful integration into elite society. While Margaret sought to mold Adelaide into a proper young lady—one who would marry well and host extravagant dinner parties—Reginald saw his daughter’s keen mind and indulged her curiosity, albeit discreetly.

The Forsythe line carried old magic, ancient and restless, passed down in blood and bone. It was not the magic of spells or incantations, but of transformation—of slipping between forms, of becoming something other, something free.

Adelaide had been standing on the balcony of their estate, staring up at the night sky, when a sudden pull overtook her. Her skin burned, her bones ached, and before she could cry out, the world tilted. The next thing she knew, she was plummeting through the air — not falling, but flying. Tiny wings beat frantically as instinct overrode panic, and she soared above the rooftops, free in a way she had never known before.

And then she crashed, hard, into a chimney stack and tumbled ungracefully to the ground.

Her mother found her shivering in the garden at dawn. There were no screams, no hysteria — only a cold stare, a tight grip on Adelaide’s wrist, and a warning whispered with more force than any slap:

"You will never do that again. Do you understand me?"

Frightened by her parent’s stories of torture, death and other such things, Adelaide was keen to agree with her mother.

But nature does not forget so easily.

—

As a young girl, Adelaide would sneak into her father’s study late at night, pouring over his scientific texts by candlelight. The first time she glimpsed Saturn’s rings through a telescope at the age of ten, she was transfixed. The chaos and expectations of human society seemed so small compared to the great, unending vastness that was the universe. She devoured every book she could find, often pestering her father’s academic colleagues with endless questions during social gatherings.

Her precocious nature made her an outlier among other girls her age. She had no interest in embroidery, courtship, or fashionable gossip. When she was fifteen, her mother caught her sneaking into her father’s lectures disguised in her brother’s old coat and hat. Furious and humiliated, Margaret demanded her father put an end to her academic pursuits, fearing that no reputable man would ever marry a woman who thought herself equal to scholars. But Reginald, torn between duty to his wife and pride in his daughter’s intellect, found a compromise — he arranged private lessons with an old friend, Professor William Crenshaw, one of the foremost astronomers of the era.

By the age of twenty, Adelaide was unofficially assisting at a local observatory, analyzing star catalogs, observing planetary movements, and even drafting papers under her brother’s name (Adam, who had wholeheartedly agreed to the plan) to bypass gender restrictions in scientific publishing. She developed a reputation for being fiercely intelligent but also unyielding, unwilling to temper her opinions for the comfort of her male peers.

Her greatest challenge, however, was not the task of unravelling the mysteries of the universe but the narrow minds of her peers. While some admired her brilliance, others saw her presence as a scandalous threat. When a comet she helped chart was credited to a male assistant instead of her, Adelaide protested openly. “If a woman’s eyes can see as far as a man’s, then her name should reach just as far,” she argued. Her defiance earned her both admiration and ire.

In 1891, her growing reputation secured her an invitation to travel westward to Lemoyne to observe a rare solar eclipse. This would be her first real taste of life beyond the confines of academia and upper class English society.

Lemoyne was unlike anything Adelaide had ever known—rugged, lawless, and ungoverned by the rigid structures she was so used to back home. The journey was treacherous; the expedition was plagued by broken equipment, aggressive wildlife, and even an attempted robbery by outlaws. Adelaide, having never fired a gun in her life, was nearly helpless, relying on the protection of local guides and her quick wit to survive.

Despite the hardships, she made her way to the observation site and witnessed the total eclipse—a perfect black void swallowing the sun, a fleeting moment of cosmic wonder. As she gazed at the event through her telescope, surrounded by untamed wilderness instead of university halls, something within her shifted. The American West was a world of mystery and discovery in its own right, she thought.

When she returned to England, she found herself restless. The constraints of her life now felt suffocating.

It was misfortune that eventually spurred her onwards. During a risky midnight flight, Adelaide had injured her wing, and as such, was stuck in her form for a while. A colleague of hers had found her near the University and had taken it upon himself to care for her — much to her horror, and her gratitude. Adelaide had hoped to escape before he found out but it was not to be. Upon finding not a freshly healed magpie, but a grown woman in his kitchen, the man understandably freaked out. He threatened to expose her secret — stating that she was to step down from her post if she wanted to (quite literally) save her skin.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Adelaide set out for the Americas once again — this time alone. With nothing but a collapsible brass telescope, a collection of notebooks, and a revolver she barely knew how to use, she sailed westward, determined to document the night sky from places few had ever studied before.

She traveled from town to town, funding her journey by selling star charts, lecturing at any schools that would take her (which were few and far between), as well as a sizeable fund from her father, who had helped her flee. She often sought out high ground, camping alone in the mountains or vast plains, sketching the heavens by firelight.

But the frontier was dangerous, and a woman traveling alone is easy prey, especially one of “her kind”. She learned to navigate both the celestial sphere and the lawless lands beneath it. She bribed hunters to look the other way, outwitted charlatans who sought to take advantage of her, and, after a close brush with a gang of highwaymen in New Austin, reluctantly learned how to use her revolver. Though not a natural fighter, she became adept at using her intellect to survive, talking her way out of most trouble before bullets were needed.

By 1899, the world was changing. The frontier was vanishing, swallowed by railroads and industry. Scientific institutions back east were growing in prestige, but still refused to fully recognize women.

Eleanor found herself caught between multiple worlds — too independent for the constraints of academia, too refined for the lawless plains of the West and too wild, too different for all of them.

She had spent years mapping the stars, but her greatest challenge remained: carving out a place where she, and her work, could live and be remembered.

She would never be a wife waiting at home, nor a delicate lady confined to parlors and polite conversation. Nor would she be held down and restrained because of the blood that ran through her veins.

She was a scholar, an explorer, a collector of knowledge and forgotten stories. A woman with a revolver in one hand and a telescope in the other, chasing the stars and riding the wind before the West faded into memory.

Because the world will change, the frontier will disappear, and one day, even the names of its greatest outlaws will be forgotten.

But the stars will remain. And so will she.

Either way, Adelaide would continue to look skyward, seeking answers in the infinite dark.

—

Okay so that’s the end (so far)!! Hope you enjoyed!! I might expand on her and give her some friends (maybe even a girlfriend…heh) later but idk??

P.S. Adelaide would def be besties with that palaeontologist you meet who gives you that dino bone quest

[dreamin4smth]

Maria Robotnik VS Sonic 3

So I watched Sonic 3 last december and I can’t stop thinking abt it. Especially what they did with the Shadow and Maria story, so now Ive come here to speak my mind and go through just how GOOD of an adaption they are in the movie. Holy shit. That was wild.

Ill be comparing Game!Maria and Movie!Maria and how their characters work in the story. Im sure there are hundreds of analyzis out there of them that might be saying the same things I will. Idk I havent watched any, but these are my own thoughts Ive gathered from watching the movies and the games. So I hope they make as much sense to you as they do to me lmao.

Because, good lord, it must have been difficult for the writers to handle the question “how do you adapt the story of a hedgehog made by the blood of space alien colonizers all in favour of saving sick child from dying?“

What did the writers do? Well lets see.

To understand the difference between Movie!Maria and Game!Maria we need to understand what Maria as a character does to the story. So lets start there.

Game!Maria

Maria robotnik in the games serves a special roll that promotes her to something more than just a character. Game Maria is a symbol. Her story is set from the moment we learn of her, and her character is more there for plot reasons rather than being an independent veichle in her story. The Maria we meet is soft spoken, compassionate, a fanatic and an inspiration for Shadow. She’s dressed in blue with golden hair and with a leap in her step. There is little fault to be found in her because thats not what she’s ment to be. Maria is a representation of innocence.

She’s a sick child who wishes for everyone on earth to be happy, and all of this is ment to lead you to the horrors of her then being killed. But the point is, Maria in the games is stagnant. She represents the life that Shadow had on the ARK, but more importantly, she represents SHADOWS innocence. Maria as a character is not her own story but rather a subpart of Shadows, and that is where we find the biggest difference with the Games and the movie. Dont even get me started on the almost religious imagery that follows her around. I mean, her names MARIA. Her roll is to be the center of love in Shadow’s life. Shes a sister, a best friend and even motherly at times. And while Shadow generations definetly gives us more of a laid back version of her, we can still see her maintain that untouchable rightousness that makes her character almost age-less. In a sense. She’s a child to highlight her innocence, yet in all other terms she really isn’t. Game Maria is an idea.

So what does the movies do then?

Movie!Maria

Sonic 3 saw all this and decided to do smth a bit different. To introduce such a compex narrative in a movie for children would definetly have been... Difficult, so instead they tone down the version a bit and make it their own thing. Who does Maria become? She becomes a CHARACTER.

Movie Maria is a child who is going to be living at a base filled with adults and scientists. She walks into the first scene with caution and nervousness, and yet as she meets Shadow, she finds a kin. And who we meet is a Maria that is goofy, mischevous, gleeful and daring. She’s a child here. She builds blanket forts, throws pop-corn at her brother, makes him driver her around on roller-skates and plays the guitar. Movie Maria is not ment to represent more than what she is, and still, it works. Movie Maria is innocent but she’s not the definition of it. She’s a person that shadow lost rather than an idea that he lost. The Maria we meet in the movie is a moving character that was abruptly stopped by external forces. She was always ment to have a future and a story, and yet she lost that. Movie Maria’s tragedy lies in her lost potential while Game Maria’s tragedy lies in her inevitable outcome. This also creates a difference in what they do to Shadows own personal journey, which ill get into more later.

So before that one more thing I love that they do with Movie Maria is that they still let her keep that inspirational part. She’s the one to inteoduce the line “the light shines even though the star is gone“ to Shadow and unknowingly ends up helping Shadow in his grief. While Game Maria is activly trying to bring positive change to Shadow’s life, Movie Maria uninentionally does that simply by showing kindness and love. She is still Shadows sister who was always there for him and loved him, just in a different light. She is still his moral compass. Shadow can be a good person because of her impact on his life, and in my opinion, as long as she fits the afformentioned categories then Maria can be whatever the writers want her to be.

So last but not least, lets talk abt her sickness.

Maria’s Sickness

Game Maria is deathly sick. Her days are numbered until a cure can be found, and the only hope left for her is Shadow. This creates a dependency between the two because suddenly, Shadow’s life isnt his own. He is alive for and because of Maria. She’s a part of his identity, so what happens when he loses that part of himself? This internal conflict directly influences Shadow’s self worth. Shadow is as much angry for losing her as he’s angry for losing himself. The very reason to why he says “goodbye shadow the hedgehog“ in Shadow 05 is because he can no longer be the same person after losing Maria. His goals and his dreams are haltered when the ARK gets invaded, ans it all leads back to Maria’s sickness.

Which is why... Well... The fact that the movie removes this part of Maria sure is... A choice.

And while I understand that showing a sick child who is then killed by the military would probbaly raise a few eyebrows from adults, that still doesnt change the fact that a very unique and important part of Shadows story was removed.

Movie Maria is there more or less on her own ackord. She has a future ahead of her. Her and Shadows relationship isn’t built on mutual depenency but rather as a circumstantional one. Which still works, dont get me wrong, but it does make the story just a tad more generic. Shadow is no longer angry for losing such a big part of his identity, he’s just doing the former part now. Grieving the most important person in his life, as well as his home.

This hardly ruins the story ofc, its just a different take on the story that, in all fairness, fits the vibe of the movie better. Bringing in terminal illness and conversations around that would definetly be a tough one. And because of them making Maria more of a character now it still works. She’s already an innocent and tragic character. She’s not ment to be innocence and tragedy incarnate like she is in the games. You get the point.

All in all. Almost perfect adaption of Maria in my opinion. I love movie Maria and it was such a clever way to go with the character. She and Shadow will always have a special place in my heart.

Hope you liked my little thought essay. I can talk abt Sonic characters all damn day 🫶

[sanest-ultrakill-fan]

the people begged so i deliver asked my buddy if i could include the memes he made too so yall are eating good tonight

(he really likes the Stranger if you couldnt tell)

[bittybattybunny]

Uhoh fish boy made her mad somehow; he's going in the ocean

[rainingincale]

.

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[choccy-milky]

I dont know why I had this vision of clora riding a scooter, like a cute light blue one with italy vibes, like a vespa, and sebastian panicking behind her LMAO

I SEE THE VISION AS WELL...idk how shes on a vespa tho since they werent invented yet so lets just assume theres time-turner shenanigans going on LMAO

but also anon this request was so funny to me because the SAME day you sent me it, i also got this one on twitter:

TRULY THE DUALITY OF MAN IS AT PLAY HERE!!! LMAOO debauchery vs wholesomeness...and it made me laugh so much

(and for anyone curious yes i WILL also be honouring the other request......eventually👀)

@jstfndmthngs splitting your ask into 2 again bc its a CHONKER but I LOVED READING IT🥹🥹 "how much they love each other to the abnormal level that i envy" LMAOO THATS FANFICTION FOR YOU, BABY!!😍 also YESS interacting with my readers in the comments was my fav parts of writing a lot of the time, and im SOOO grateful to the ppl who commented bc without them the story would have turned out DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. like, i know there are some people who write the entirety of their fanfic and then upload it in chunks, but if i had done that/written my story in a vacuum and hadnt incorporated any of my readers ideas/suggestions it would have been SOOOO much worse honestly LMAO. like, not even necessarily putting their requests or ideas in my fic, but even sometimes just reading a comment that would say something like "i cant wait to see how clora/seb reacts to..." would make me think...oh. i was never planning on even showing their reaction to that. but now that they say that, good point, i definitely need to include that LOL. so yeah even just little stuff like that was SUPER important to my writing process and my story and helped me keep in mind what people wanted to see/things i may have missed or glossed over if i'd been writing by myself, but i also just loved getting comments in general bc i loved reading them and they were so motivating🥹 BUT THANK U SO MUCH IM GLAD U LIKED MY STORY/SEB & CLORA SO MUCH, AND TY FOR SHARING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME!!🥹💖💖 im lowkey the same way... i cant read any other fics rn bc im still too attached to seb/clora BAHAHA so i still need to give it some time before i delve into other HL fics (i even downloaded a program that will let me replace names so that i can replace the mc's name with clora's LMFAOOOO THATS HOW MENTALLY ILL I AM ABOUT THEM!!😭😭DONT COME FOR ME🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🚓)

omg...i already love unlocking kinks in people but for it to be specifically seb x clora is even more of an honour BAHAHA omg i love that....but i get it too. clora is submissive and breedable af😍LMAOO (im sorry💀that wasnt me just now that was seb blame him)

@acrenna MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND ALSO LATE HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! this is so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭im happy my story was able to get you out of your reading slump!! (and hopefully will continue to, with my oneshot im slowly but surely working on😩) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN I APPRECIATE YOU SM🥹🥹💖

@misskkfritz you actually arent the first to say this and i also saw a pinterest comment on my art say this........FELLAS DO I NEED TO WATCH GILMORE GIRLS NOW🤔🤔🤔

[icarusredwings]

Im watching poolverine the movie- UUHHH, I MEAN Deadpool and Wolverine for the 6th time, and not only did I accidently stream it downstairs on accident, but I made some notes.

Ngl mcu wade scarred or not is hot as fuck. Like, idk man, I'd bang him as long as al didnt yell at me. She scares me.

I like how self-aware he is in the beginning. That he lashes out when nervous or upset.

How he tries his best to apologize for cursing but accidently ends up backhanding it with even more inappropriate information (do we think our boy has Tourettes or do we think he just lets the inside thoughts outside too often?)

The implication that he's dreamed of having children is very sweet but dude lowkey just said "Yeah but I get too much anal and oral for that :( ah well. Maybe one day"

He's fully aware that he hates his life, and all he has to look forward to is his little dysfunctional family, such as talking to Colossus about medicore tv

His current best friend being a little weirdo who asks barely legal lesbians to tug his literal chain (not a good look on you peter- like seriously dont... dont do that.. Logan would have punched you so hard if he saw that)

Coming to Al half way through the party to decompress, his banter with negasonic and happy little face when he see Yukio

Love his and vanessas "make a wish buddy" "going down 10 4" thing. How she looks at him so fondly. As if wishing he was like this all the time but knows just how hard he's masking. How he tries SO hard to make normal small talk but Vanessa made the mistake of telling wade her new boyfriends name so now he's concreting that shit in his head so he can kill him later.

Saying 'Stop that, eyes on me' worked a little TOO well. Baby boy needs 1st grade instructions. Someone write a fic of this. My boy loves him some simple instructions. Its something his adhd can handle.

Love (sarcasam) how this is supposed to be a buddy movie but the second an old man slaps his ass he is SO happy and confident LMAO like Bro CHILL you're a victim. AGAIN. Try not to be too happy about that bud. Also Once that mask is on, he's GONE. Way more rude and flirty, 100 times less apologetic, more violent, and less understanding. You can tell it's been a while since he's let it out.

[linddzz]

While yes, Viktor is confident too, but...

This man isn't shy? He's hyperventilating and nervous-tapping over the idea of giving a speech!

This man?

I guess Im not getting across like, the Vibe that I always see that bothers me? Viktor's got the social anxiety for sure, and it's VERY fair to assume that his condition makes him even more self conscious to be up in front of a crowd full of topsiders. He's pretty clear in episode 1 that he's aware of how topsiders see him and his cane use, and that's before his disability is even more visible.

But ALSO very few people ARE good on a stage in front of tons of people. And also there's a very specific connotation to "shy" that is beyond social anxiety.

Shyness to me, is its own flavor of social anxiety plus timidness. The actual definition is a bashful, timid nervousness. It has connotations of the wilting flower personality. Viktor, even when he's quiet around other people doesn't come across as nervous or timid in the slightest. His first introduction has him VERY confident and collected surrounded by enforcers and not taking Jayce being snappy and angry at him. As a kid there's more of an argument to be made because what awkward socially isolated kid isn't going to be shy. But at the same time he doesn't try to shrink away from Sky's attention, he still looks right back up at her, he just keeps on doing his own thing. Mostly he comes across as someone who does not know how to casually interact with people so he doesn't. He's got tunnels in his eyes lmao.

Viktor is complicated. Viktor is nuanced. It's why he's Ultimate Blorbo. He's withdrawn and awkward and not very good at interacting with people, but he's not timid about it. He is very self assured in himself.

But when I say fandom makes him shy it IS much more of the wilting flower timid woobie that I kept seeing in Season1 fics. There was SO MUCH of Viktor being the nervous soft spoken anxious thing who was just so happy Jayce was even giving him the time of day as if Viktor didn't sass Jayce about his notes right after he stopped the man from jumping lmaoooo

And idk not to be TOO OBVIOUS with my projecting but it's the part of Viktor I can relate to the most. I consider myself a quiet person who gets annoyed when people think that me being quiet = shy. I'm able to speak up well on zoom calls with colleagues and I also would rather drop dead than have to go up on a stage in front of a bunch of normal people who I know were expecting someone very different. I get nervous and shaky speaking up in front of a crowd of colleagues even! but afterwards I can go right up to people like "your presentation was insane tell me more right now." I am often quiet and uncomfortable in large social situations because I know that most people there are operating under a different wavelength than I am, I do not know what the right responses to things are, or I full on do not know how to not accidentally come across as a huge asshole and I don't want to be an asshole. And when I was younger I would have so many people come up and act like I was a little wallflower (bc oh boy can I also relate to being quiet while physically small meaning being constantly infantalized) who "didn't need to be so shy" and every time I was like "I'm not shy. I just don't feel any engagement with this conversation and I don't want to be a dick and tell you that, but if you gently tell me it's ok to talk one more time I'm gonna start biting."

(It got better as I got older bc I learned that if you're quiet but making active eye contact instead of staring off into other directions - not to avoid attention but because you're just thinking of other shit - people will stop labeling you as shy and instead say "intimidating" or "mysterious" which is also hilarious when what you're thinking about is "machine herald big naturals lmao" but it's better than being labeled "shy")

[spncvr]

scott street | remus lupin

summary: You return to your childhood home. Remus, your past love, unexpectedly returns. (based on the song scott street if that wasn’t obvious)

pairing: rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader (3rd person oops sorry)

warnings: is this.... angst?? idk but hurt/comfort!! no use of y/n bc i cannot write that and not die a little, and my terrible english i'm sure i mixed all the tenses up here guys sorry im tryinggg,, this is lowk cheesy as hell i feel like... LMAO

a/n: i was sick so i didn't go to school tdy but i wrote this banger oneshot (its 2,4k words can u belive?? longest thing ive ever written in english)

masterlist

Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger

With an open heart, open container

THE SUN SUNK behind the many leaves which hung lazily on the branches. Through the old sheer curtains, the breeze blows faint whispers. The room is tinged with a familiar feeling; as if the concrete used that constructed this house is laced with memories from the past. The memories all flooded back like tides in a vast ocean, rolling back and forth as they brought back recollections of days gone by.

This was where she had grown up. The small backyard, the one with grass that had used to touch her ankles, was where she had first learned how to do a cartwheel. The bed, unchanged since she had left, felt almost ancient. She remembered the time she had faked a headache to skip school and had spent the whole day in it; back then the bed had felt like the only place she had wanted to live in. 

This was where she fell in love. So much in love, that she could not seem to pinpoint the exact moment she had ever fallen out of it. Maybe she never did. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore, at least.

The room’s walls are bare, and the old, washed-out wall once covered with posters of her favourite rock bands, no longer stands amongst the antique wallpaper. But his pictures were there. Their pictures. It seemed as though they were taunting her as it was propped up on the small table beside her bed. She picked one of them up, one that had stood out to her the most, and gazed at it.

She grew up without wealth. That was clear from the photo, where her top was much too big for her. Maybe it was her father’s; she can’t remember. But that hadn’t mattered to him. He had his arms around her shoulders and a smile on his lips akin to those she’d seen of him on posters and TV screens. She missed when he’d shown it just for her to see.

I’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can.It’s a shower beer, it’s a payment plan.

She tries to remember the moment or event that had taken place where they had taken the picture. And she almost forgets. It caused her to quickly put the picture back down, and a loud thud resonated between the calm sounds of home.

How could she forget? She felt like she was losing too much of herself. The part of herself that had lived here, one that had loved so freely and so openly, was slipping away so incredibly quickly—and suddenly she understood why her mother had cried when she chose a university so far off. She had almost forgotten a part of herself—a version of herself, that she seemed to have missed the most.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, still close to the picture she had put back down, only to look at it again, this time from afar. 

Of course, she remembers this moment. It had been her birthday, and he had taunted her mercilessly, telling her how she was just as old and frail as he was since she had always made fun of him for having his birthday at the start of the year and hers so close to the end. This may have contributed to the small roll of her eyes in the photo, but she was unable to control the grin that had painted itself on her lips. She can’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Joking about being so incredibly old while being so young. She’d have given everything to be seventeen again if it meant being seventeen with him. 

Behind the picture, she had been staring at, was another one. And this time, she didn’t forget because, try as she might, she couldn’t.

She can’t seem to let go of the memory of the first time he kissed her, after a gig, a small one that he held with his mates at a pub not that far from here. She remembers how his skin was alight with adrenaline, and his gaze piercing. She couldn’t forget the moment when he told her that she had always been the one he loved not long after the picture, somewhere outside the pub, where the crisp chilly November breeze did not win against his palm that rested against her cheek.

Not long after, when he had brought her back to his, when he had kissed her silly. When she had realized that she really loved him too, and when the realization had hit her so hard, she had to loop her arms around his neck to keep herself upright, when there was only quiet in the house and all that could be heard was her gentle laughter and his sweet nothings, he had whispered in her ear so quietly, almost as if it were a secret, I would have been content to love you from a distance.

There, they were eighteen, fresh out of school and without the slightest idea where they’d go next. She had occasionally pondered what would have happened if they had more time, if they hadn’t both been so foolish, or, if they had both recognized how much it was they felt for one another sooner. But doing so would have made the parting even more painful than it already was. That was something she didn’t like to imagine.

She sighs and leaves the room. She needed to breathe.

Do you feel ashamed, When you hear my name?

ADMITTEDLY, REMUS DIDN'T think he’d ever come back. To Wales, yes, of course, it was his country (now more than ever). But not to this house. Not to her house. He couldn’t ever think straight, not when he knew that she was out there somewhere forgetting every minute detail about their past, and not when the love she’d once felt for him had long gone. But here he stands. 

He’s overthinking this. She probably isn’t even home.

She’s always told him when they were young that she wanted to leave.

One day, she had whispered to him in the darkness, when they were six, her favourite stuffed animal tightly tucked between her arms, one day, we’ll be far away. Remus can’t remember whatever caused her to tell him this at such a young age, with such strong conviction. He thinks it was probably something silly—a classmate’s admonition that some activities were simply reserved for boys. Or maybe it was because her parents had refused to let her get ice cream after she’d finished all of her green vegetables (all that suffering for nothing, really). But the mindset had continued to stick in her mind; an ember of determination that refused to fade away.

One day, she says again, when she’s thirteen because her teacher had failed her in her first ever physics exam, one day this won’t matter. I’ll go. I’ll leave. She had said it so firmly and so surely that it scares him sometimes. Because, really, they’ve never been anywhere but here—so sometimes, he asks his mirror, pretending that she’s staring back at him: What if it’s just the same? What if it’s just as bad?

One day, she says again, when she’s seventeen because she has been looking at universities far off and away from Wales. He’d watch her as she’d stare at the campus pictures on the brochures their school had offered and study the student’s bright wide smiles, and sometimes, he wondered if she ever pictures herself in those hallways, with a group of new friends—she’d be the smart one, the witty one. Sometimes, Remus wondered if she ever pictured him with her as she told him with the biggest smile on her face: One day, I’ll be there. Anytime soon.

She’s never liked it here. That much was always clear to Remus. Her books were the sole bright spot in her otherwise (as she put it) bleak existence. Always arranged in a way that only she could fully understand within the small bookshelf she had bought for herself with her first paycheck when she was saving up for Uni. Often, he wondered if she had brought them with her when she had left or whether she had left them here. No longer feeling the drag of her fingertips against its words. Abandoned by its only reader. 

And for a while, he had thought that he’d given her another reason to love the place they’d always called home. But he left her. So why, then, would she ever choose to stay? Books could only last for so long.

Just knock, he curses to himself. Say hello to her parents. Tell them that you wanted to see how they were doing. 

And just when he’s about to finally get it over with, the door opens.

And she’s there.

She looks different. Hair cut short and brushed neatly. Her clothes fit her nicely. It feels kind of jarring. He doesn’t really know what to expect. He’d been half-expecting to see the girl who had her hair always tied up in a ponytail that didn’t do much, with the amount of hair that was always falling out of it or the girl who wore oversized band shirts that belonged to her father, along with the sneakers she’d been using ever since her feet had stopped growing—the girl who was so full of life it felt nearly impossible not to love her. It was silly, really. Of course, she’d changed. It’s been four years. 

“Remus?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’re you doing here?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. What was he doing here?

“I’m—” he starts but pauses for a while to come up with an answer, “I didn’t know you still lived here.”

“I don’t,” she says, plainly.

“Oh.” he breathes, she’s always been forward, “Well, I’m here for holiday.”

“Yeah . . . yeah me too.”

He rocks on the heels of his foot back and forth, “I just— wanted to know how your parents are doing.”

She purses her lips, “Oh. Well, Dad’s doing alright, I bought him a bunch of LPs—some of them yours, actually. And Mum’s still trying to get used to me being back here. She’s cooked a thousand meals.”

“That’s good to know,” he nods, smiling, because sometimes, she has no idea the effect she has on people. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

“How’ve you been?” she inquires, “Heard you’re not doing too bad in your band thing.”

He laughs softly, “It’s been alright.”

She smiles, for the first time he’s talked to her, and shakes her head softly, “Modest as always. Send the lads my love.”

“I missed you,” he tells her. And it spills from his tongue so quickly, before he could even think about it. She needed to know, somehow, that he couldn’t shake her off his mind. He played for her, wrote for her and of her. And sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night he swears he could feel her shadow brush his hand, he hoped and prayed to whatever God that was making him feel so incredibly homesick, that she’d been listening to the songs he’d written.

He could only hope that she’d understand the undertone of his words.

She looks at him with this look that seems to pierce through time, reaching back into the past, unwanting to let go. Then, there was this beat of silence; one long enough for him to hear everything that had been left unsaid.

She looks at him, her honey-laced lips slightly parted. “Do you want to come in?” She sounds hesitant as she steps aside, letting him through.

He nods as he follows her in.

The house felt achingly familiar, yet everything felt and seemed different. The walls were the same colour, and the couch that had always looked somewhat old still stood in the exact same place it had four years ago, with new cushions adorning it. The air felt thicker. She always had that effect on him, he supposes.

“Tea?” she offers, a smile playing on her lips, as she leads him into the kitchen.

“Always,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

She turns her back to him to make tea and he feels like he’s missing her all over again. He’s watching her move, taking the tea kettle and suddenly he’s sixteen again, when he’d brought James, Sirius and Pete here because they’d had run into trouble with the police—well, admittedly, it was just James and Sirius, but the four boys had never failed to stick together—and the first thing she’d asked them when she saw all four of them at her doorstep late at night is if they’d like some tea.

“How long are you staying?” she asks, back still turned. “A few weeks,” he says, “Got a bit of a break before the next tour.”

When she handed him a cup, he noticed how even her arms and the tips of her fingers had changed. She looks good, beautiful. 

“So, how’s life been?” she asks, taking a sip.

“Busy,” he replies, “Touring, recording, writing. It’s a lot, but it’s what I love.”

“I’ve been listening to your music,” she admits when he sips her tea. It’s exactly how he likes it. “It’s good, Remus. Really good.”

Remus looks down at his shoes, “Thank you,” then, “I’m sorry.”

She frowns, “What for?” “For leaving,” his voice, barely a whisper, “for everything.”

“Oh, Remus,” she sighs as she puts her cup down on the kitchen counter, “no, you had to go. It was your dream—I mean, look at you. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says again. Because she had smiled at him the same way she did all those years ago in that pub.

And this time, she says it back.

They spent the rest of the day talking and, at times reminiscing, catching up on their lives, and it felt like no time had passed, like they were the same two kids who had believed in forever. As the sky turned dark, and the light from the lamp in the living room spilt against the floors of her house, she had looked at him—that same look she had always given him five, six years ago before asked him, quietly:

“Will you stay?”

Remus smiles, his heart full, “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

likes and reblogs r appriciated! <3 also i just learned what a taglist is,, so lmk if u wanna be included in my remus one :D

[envy-of-the-apple]

Oh my god I’m obsessed with all your fics, I think my two favorites are the jjk!naga and ms. Moon. I would love it so much if you made a fanfic of the naga!satosugu x reader on ao3(with rizz). Speaking of those two goofballs I have some questions😋🎀

STW:

So how did Satoru and Suguru act when reader didn’t understand their language and only spoken a language they never heard before (English)?

How does Satoru and Suguru act when reader disappears randomly (trying to escape). Do they just like instantly know or do they think she’s doing something else?

NSFW:

How tf does it even work, do they just give her some venom and hope for the best orrr is it one man at a time😈

How’s the aftercare?

Those are just 4 (I think) questions I came up with at 3 am and I’ll probably have more so thank for making that juicy fanfic bc now I can’t get it out of my head😭

ahhhh thank you!!!!!!onto answering your questions:

It does take them a while to figure out that you are speaking a different language. I think at first they'd be like 'oh, so the squishy little thing is kinda stupid' then, they realize that you don't have the right parts to mimic what they're saying. Eventually, they start out with basics, repeating the stuff you seem to say a lot. I think the first time Satoru manages to repeat 'hello' you get really giddy and excited and so will he and his willingless to learn just increases exponentially after that. Suguru will follow in suit, not wanting his mate to be the only person to make you laugh.

Once the language barrier starts to fade and they start actively calling you theirs, you'd obviously reject their claim because they are two giant snake men and you wanna go home. They obviously won't like that and are just like 'well if you dont want us, the least we can do is keep you with us forever, right?'. After that, you'd be strictly kept in the cave. Eventually, you'd be able to go back outside again, once they've gotten it into your skull that you are never leaving.

im not answering the nsfw part cuz idk how it works either LMAO but for the venom, they learn pretty quickly that they have to be careful with it. The first time, you were bitten was by Suguru (see pt2). He was already careful, giving you less than half than what he gives Satoru but you were still out cold for days. I do think that your reaction will scare them out of using it for a couple more weeks but eventually, they'll start giving you doses if you start lashing out too much. I think Suguru would be more responsible with the dosage, never really giving in unless you start doing something that will put you in danger. Satoru would be more than happy to bite you at any small grievance. They definitely get into fights about that, but even Suguru admits that you are cute when you're loopy and dozing peacefully in their arms.

[chasedeys]

hello again i have another fic concept and am very curious about your thoughts

sooo seeing ja’marr with his kid (cutest thing in the world btw) made me think about him, for whatever reason, asking joe to babysit for him one day. and joe is good with kids but probably doesn’t have a lot of experience taking care of them? idk. i just think he’d panic a bit at first and then he’d realize it’s not that bad

but what i was really thinking about is when ja’marr comes back he finds both joe and the kid asleep on the couch and they aren’t even together at this point but it makes ja’marr fall even more in love bc he sees his two fav people together like that and it’s just such a soft sweet moment <3

GRAHHHH the way im still trying to reply to your last reply to the fwb au 😭 but i adoreeeee the image of them with kids so much thank youuu for giving me the chance (yet again) to yap about this oml i ran with this i apologize in advance:

joe and ja'marr both love kids sooooo much you can see it every time they interact with them!! but the thing is I've never seen joe actually hold up a child which is kind of impressive tbh considering how.....extensive joe's archive of pics is here lmao. has he never once in his life been photographed holding a baby or. have i just not come across any.

ja'marr is totally the type to swing children around by their legs and fling them around in a circle as they climb him like a jungle gym etc etc just 100% comfortable and secure in himself that he can catch any kid if they fall or never even getting them to that point in the first place. just clocked that this is maybe because of his wr training lmao. or just a case of extremely good dad reflexes who knows! i don't actually know what point i wanted to make here i just wanted to say something about this 😭.

joe doesn't know how to interact with children below the ages of 5. no like he'd be good at it of course but if you squint your eyes you can see him visibly sweating from the entire exchange 😭 but he loves it!! loves meeting little kids who idolize him!! he does not know how to carry babies without having his entire torso and limbs (both upper and bottom for some reason) stiffening up. ja'marr once handed him junior without thinking much of it to fuss over the baby car seat and when he turned back 10 minutes later after a losing battle it's to the sight of joe frozen in time staring blankly at ja'marr junior who is doing him absolutely no help just staring right back entranced at his face. they might be locked in a staring contest. they're definitely locked in a staring contest because ja'marr has called both their names repeatedly and has been ignored the entire time. cute stuff. snapped a pic to share to his parents, sister, tee, joe's parents and brothers, the entire wr group chat etc etc.

but!!! he has an amazing ability to just....exist in the same space with the quieter children, the nonverbal ones. even manages to take them out of their bubble sometimes and bond over the most obscure shit you can think of (neurodivergents solidarity tbh). if it's the more enthusiastic outspoken ones he's happy to just let them lead the convo, always so accommodating and fascinated by their way of thinking! he just adores kids just as much as ja'marr he loves talking to them and hearing their thought process and current obsessions and when ja'marr jumps in he loves seeing them light up even more because ja'marr always knows the right words to get them to loosen up and start snort-laughing, when to tease and poke, when to be firm and admonishing. joe's more of a pushover i guess lol he lets them walk all over him and has no backbone to speak of. when they meet little fans on the street who get a bit overbearing don't know when to knock it off ja'marr's usually the one who successfully gets them to back off and let joe breath. this might also be because his boundless energy matches the kids more easier hmm.

BUT you're asking abt joe babysitting ja'marr jr sorry got incredibly side tracked over them with children 😭

maybe it's a little wr training thing where ja'marr has to go for idk 3 days and the baby mama can't take junior for the whole week and his parents are having an anniversary cruise vacation and his sister is on the other side of the country and his usual babysitter (neighbor's teenage kid lol) is having an exam season and sure he could ask any of his friends who would go the extra mile for him but!! the number one person in his mind and soul who he would feel absolutely 100% comfortable and safe leaving the beloved piece of his heart outside of his body with is one joseph lee burrow. who might possibly think that taking care of junior primarily involves him staring directly and piercingly at the little kid watching lion king for the whole two and a half hours of runtime. all without taking a single eye off of him. like at all. which is. well.

joe manfully says yes to ja'marr's sincere plea and is handed junior and his entire baby bag with some fanfare because ja'marr is always one for dramatics. joe is staring bemusedly down at the one year old child who had somehow ended up in the circle of his arms drooling on the fabric of his old faded acid wash tee while ja'marr is fussing over setting up a little toy station in the middle of joe's living room and stocking up joe's kitchen with all the meals and snacks and milk he brought for junior. he's also yapping in his usual endearing way over all the things joe has to look out for, allergies, times for meals and snacks, what to do when junior starts crying, when to let him just run around and when to get him to sit the fuck down, what some of the baby babble junior likes to blurt out mean, etc etc just baby essentials and everything that joe would usually very easily sort through but he's kind of. completely overwhelmed here on the pending sole responsibility over a one year old baby—his best friend's actual living breathing mini version of him—for the next 72-ish hours and tries very hard not to freak the fuck out.

in the end ja'marr is just standing in front of joe holding his son so carefully like he's something so precious while baby ja'marr is slowly blinking awake to the sight of joe's own blue eyes looking wide-eyed down at him and feeling something so right and warm when junior immediately reaches out an arm to press against an enchanted joe's cheek and start laughing when joe flinches and weirdly fumbles around. god the image of joe with a little kid i can't do this. ja'marr snapped a pic ofc had to immortalize the first ever lone babysitting gig with joe. little baby ja'marr album <3

love the idea of this being pre-relationship with ja'marr enthusiastically stepping forward all up in joe's space and hugging junior via hugging joe and blowing raspberries all over his son's cheeks in his usual goodbye-routine while joe's staring wide-eyed because wow this is. an incredibly close view of—of all this. all within his reach. of a sort. and then ja'marr turns his bright baby-ja'marr-special-smile upwards towards joe and dumbly (dumb-of-ass-ly!!) smooches joe's cheek too on. like. autopilot (or is it!) and blusters through the immediate oh-my-god-i-just-did-that leaving like a whirlwind through the front door yelling to just call him if he has questions. and joe's just. left standing there stupefied beyond belief and can't even reach up a hand to press against his warmed cheek because he's terrified of letting go even a single hand from carrying junior. who is clapping his hands in delight, already in love with joe from the first time they met long before and beyond delighted that he gets to hang out with the nice blond man with the warm hands who makes his daddy laugh like that. didn't even cry getting left alone by his dad!! which is a Very Important and Heartening thing to note when left with a baby not your own but joe doesn't know that (yet)!! anyway.

then follows a wonderful lovely saga of joe learning how to take care of junior and it's!! ja'marr's kid!!!!! he literally cannot do anything wrong to fuck up junior even if he tried because that's ja'marr's blood and soul over there in pint-sized form. it took a whole minute for him to fall completely in love the first time they met and with them being left alone for the first time it takes barely an hour for him to learn literally everything there is to know about the kid (proverbially of course. junior's first time asking to go potty nearly made him breakdown. called his mom in distress, got laughed at for a full minute, before she helped him the best she could through face time and then spent the next hour cooing over an equally enamored junior through the phone) because he's literally an extension of ja'marr, who he knows better than the back of his palm!!

anyway when ja'marr comes by to pick him up again bringing a shit ton of food as a little thank you also—he easily barges through the front door with his own key, not not worried exactly because the last time joe texted him was to snap a pic of junior trying on one of his custom glove (tiny hand in big glove!!) which was a whole hour and a half ago and didn't reply to any of the texts ja'marr sent asking if he wanted gross junk food A or B for dinner.

came to the truly heart melting sight of moana playing on 20% volume while joe is stretched out on his couch in one of his eccentric t-shirts and grey sweats, hair rumpled beyond saving, baby ja'marr settled on top of him in a tiger onesie with his head tucked right on top of joe's heart snuggled up under one of the fluffy blankets ja'marr got for him that's barely covering joe, both dead to the world asleep. ja'marr instantly brings out his phone and takes a whole bunch of pictures from literally every angle AND several videos of the 1 minute and over variety. immediately shared to everyone he knows that matters within the hour. the very first pic of them both snapping awake to stare up at him leaning over the couch in groggy shock looking weirdly alike is for him and him only though. the next pic of them with smiles starting to bloom through staring right at him is made into his phone's background that night. joe has the pic printed on polaroids one for each of them and they each keep it in their wallets. wow this is corny as hell sorry but.

sooooo compelling if this was like. THE feelings realization for him like—'oh. ohhh my god. oh no. oh wait a damn fucking second this is not that. i am not in love with him. i do not want ja'marr jr growing up with him as the other half of his parental unit no. no. oh god.' yeah.

had a little family dinner afterwards on the couch watching the jungle book <3 junior usually chooses to sit on ja'marr's lap but he's sticking close to joe and it makes ja'marr feel all fuzzy and dizzy. little kid tucked between these two whose bodies are turned to one another caging the kid so he won't fall. laughing together playfully smearing sauce all over baby ja'marr to make him shriek and laugh. spending the night there anyway because it's midnight all of junior's stuff is still there enough for an extra day or several and ja'marr can just use joe's stuff anyway and really ja'marr doesn't think junior is ever letting go of joe's shirt so.

this is just incredibly self-indulging 😭 and i don't actually know what to call ja'marr jr wkwkk

ending this with a little screenshot of ja’marr and ja’marr 🥰🫶 they're sooooooo cute

ok bye!!

[bearfools]

a few things i think people should know.

not directed at anyone in particular, but ive received multiple messages (some deleted, some not) from people and i think ill make a post about some stuff i wanna clear up as a therian.

i am aware that im bodily human, im aware that this will not change.

i am aware that acting wild (or as someone said, "gross" and "ill mannered") does not make me an animal

no, i am not a little kid discovering new terms on the internet and using them for clout. i am an 18 year old man who had been questioning therianthropy for a very long time

no, i am not offended by people saying silly hateful things, ive seen about every basic piece of therian hate (directed at me and also other people) and none of it bothers me

no, i am not in any way attracted to animals and i do not partake in any kind of animal abuse. its weird that people assume that right after saying "youre human!!" like am i a beast or not make up your mind lmao?

no, i dont mind if you ask "silly" questions, in a community as misunderstood as therians/alterhumans i am always happy to help people understand

yes, i believe in past lives. though i do not believe theyre fully to blame for my therianthropy and i dont think every kintype of mine has a detailed backstory. i was likely many animals before i was human and i dont kin anything but bears

i had like one person ask if this was a religious thing, its not, idk how common of a misconception that is but i wanted to put it out there. im not outwardly religious, im agnostic but unbothered by any other beliefs

yes, im aware that animals live outside in the cold with diseases and predators, i am grateful for the things i am given that wild animals are not.

no, you cant hunt me (and also, what the hell? again, if youre arguing that im human then why would you hunt me?)

"how do you know your beliefs are real?" i dont. im simply a person on this earth, same as you, i dont know what lies after death, i dont know what lies before birth, but i prefer my "weird" beliefs over never believing in anything.

after i made that post about young therians (thank you all for the love by the way!) i had a few comments along the lines of "messy eating is human/making faces and acting like an animal doesnt make you an animal" i know, i know that im not a bear, i know that what i do is not limited to therians. I know kids play as animals all the time! but at the end of the day i'm happy. are you? does leaving spiteful messages make you happy?

do you send a comment on tumblr and stare at your reflection in the screen and feel fulfilled? im asking genuinely, because if it doesnt make you happy, then why do it? it doesnt affect me, worst case scenario im annoyed and then dont interact. Do you think that ill hear you say "youre not a bear" and then go "oh my bad" and delete my account? as if i havent been told those exact words my whole life (even before i knew what the internet was!)

[silly-circus]

★SillyString’s story/background★

(Way long overdue lmao and long I’m so sorry guys, also made some edits because I wanted to word some things better)

I want to start off by saying she is me, me is she(Im not sure if I made it clear or not so apologies I’m kinda dumb🫰). I say “her” in my posts instead of “me” because idk it feels right since I make her look differently than I actually do. Even so, we share the same name and I do the clown look all the time when I go out to places that I get an excuse to🧍‍♂️so really it is just me but anyway,,, time to begin! This is my first time actually writing this out so I’m sorry if it’s formatted and explained terribly

First off, Silly String is my persona’s clown name. She came up with it herself, everything else was Pennywise’s idea. She was originally a human, and still looks like one and has the appetite of one(when she changed Pennywise assumed she would want to eat people. He was wrong.) She lived in texas(yee-honk) before moving to Maine literally because she thought “why not?” and ended up in good old Derry. Her life growing up wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best. She was always into odd and strange things, or things that most would find creepy(clowns. Love clowns. They’re so cool) so she was kinda outcasted from others at a young age but soon people learned to just let her live in peace which of course she was happy about. She did manage to make some friends, solidarity. After moving, she continued pursuing freelance photography and painting, but her full time job is as a barista in a local coffee shop(wow, how interesting💀).

The way that she met Pennywise was kinda stupid. All she was doing was taking photos of the local wildlife and next thing you know a kid is running by before she notices a fucking weird ass clown creature from hell charging straight towards her(she still snapped a photo before running). He does catch up to her and jumps her. How she managed to not get away, but the kid did, don’t ask me. She survived, her camera unfortunately did not(he gets her a new one eventually guys trust).

since then, they kept bumping into each other. He does try to kill her again but she kept managing to escape him(pissed him off more and more each time) but soon enough he starts to chill out and basically decides to learn more about her. The more she realized he was going to not continuously try eat her every time he visited she would start asking him questions about who he was as an entity and where he came from. It does start out as a weird friendship where he would mess with her at work or appear out of literally no where to hang around. He does start to enjoy her company and watching her do normal, human things since her doing it made it seem entertaining. After a while of slowly getting closer and closer they become loving parters yay(she was still human at this time).

Fast forward and they get “married” which they really call their “eternal binding.” Basically what it means is that she became a part of him. As in if he dies, she dies. She unfortunately didn’t gain any cool shape shifting and such, she just gets to live and thrive as long as he does. When it first happened she was having a hard time with it simply because she’s going to outlive everyone she knows and will continue to, but over time she made her peace with it and saw it as a privilege to watch the world change around her and of course stay with her beloved.

Also the year they met was set in the 1980s, or honestly it could be any time after that or something I don’t know yall get creative I’m just going with the flow.

That is it :) sorry again this is long, and I hope every one has a good day/night(it’s 3 am why do I do this to myself). I also hope you guys continue to follow along with me on their lover clown journey :D

AND- little sneak peek of an upcoming piece I’m working on for Mermay 😙

[atlasofthestaars]

hii! this is my first time requesting ever, but I just love your writing so much that I just have to ask:

can i request general headcannons with mk1 Bi-Han and female reader? if you’re comfortable with writing nsfw, can i also ask for some of those? I dont have anything specific in mind but im just dying for you to write more for Bi-Han, i think you write him soo well.

if you can’t/don’t want to do those, its totally ok! i just had to request from my favorite mk writer. thank you soo much!! 🫶🏽

ps. I LOVE NEW ERA SO MUCHHH UGHH

notes: oops i should have done these. a LOT sooner LMAO. idk if my headcanons are gonna be unpopular or not but this is how I see the bastard (only semi affectionately) most of these don’t really apply to female reader until the NSFW tbh, but even then I’m not too descriptive? I kinda wrote these informally but at the same time, very analytical?? You’ll see HAHA these are more like my rambles than shorter hcs. I probably should have made the NSFW parts sexier sounding LMAO they’re very like, analytical.

I also can probably do more of these if you guys want?? I just kinda wrote whatever but I’m certain I could write tons more  HAHA

Btw ty for liking New Era and being so patient for your wait ! <3

SFW

Bi-Han would only be with a partner, imo, if he truly loves them. Loyalty, trust, etc. are all important to him. To be with a person for the sake of being in a relationship imo is not his style. Especially if his father wanted an arranged marriage? He would not be happy with it. He can rule by himself, thank you very much. 

When Bi-Han loves you, he loves you. He may not say it much, but he does. It is not as if he thinks saying “i love you” is stupid. No, he understands it is important, he just knows that you know already. In rare moments where he is nearly overwhelmed with affection for you, he’ll say it first. But I think it is more likely he would only say a simple “i love you too” after you say it.

I can’t imagine Bi-Han to be the type of person to fall for someone at first sight or jump into dating someone quickly. I think the only way he’d fall for someone is to be friends with them first and slowly he’d fall, then the feelings would hit him all at once.

Bi-Han finds it hard to deny you. Even when he says no, he is probably thinking of other alternatives for you. Idk! I think this man would be kind of a simp deep down if he truly found someone he loves. But not like overboard, it’d be very subtle. Which is a lot for a frosty man like him.

Bi-Han’s love language imo, is acts of service. Probably small things like making you breakfast, helping you do your hair if you have longer hair, maybe even showing you how to properly stretch if you often feel sore. Little things that add up.

Bi-Han would allow you to be in his office just to enjoy your company. He probably wouldn’t talk much, mostly just listen in those moments when he’s concentrating. Your presence alone is enough for him when he’s working.

If he’s giving gifts, I imagine he’d probably be the type of person to place it in a place you’d see it, but no one else would. He’d leave a simple note like, “thought of you”. I don’t think he’d give it in person because he’s far too stiff to make it feel romantic enough,

I don’t think dates come often. but when they do Bi-Han would do something probably quiet and with just you. He’d rather spend the precious time he has not doing his duty with just the person he adores, no one else.

Probably not at first, but after you’ve been together for a while I think he’d allow you to brush and comb his hair. It’s not that he is particularly touch adverse with his hair, I just think he’s really fussy with it.

Not a fan of PDA. He doesn’t like the looks others give him and how he can tell that they’re thinking how did he get someone to defrost him? Far too nosey for his tastes. But if you want it, he’d probably indulge you in maybe a bit of hand holding. Maybe a peck on the cheek or on the lips once in a while, but he’s generally a private person.

Bi-Han has cold hands. Nothing he can do about it. Even with his fine control of cryomancy, there’s the lingering chill that is stuck to his skin.

I’d like to imagine that he would give very soft kisses in private. A kiss on the hand, a kiss on the forehead, etc. Small moments. 

Probably has given you one accessory the same shade of blue as his uniform. It pleases him just to see the subtle way you match.

NSFW

Ok. Listen. He’s a virgin. It’s not that I think he’s a “saving myself for marriage” type of man, I just think that he would not really be attracted to people enough to want a fling or something unserious. 

He probably is very hard to arouse unless he knows he won’t be interrupted or if it is work time. He’s just very regimented like that. Still, if you were to try and tease him by a little touches or with some particularly revealing clothing, then he supposed it would be a little harder to keep his mind off of the way your body feels under his hands.

Anyways, he probably will want to take the dominant role. I mean, it’s Bi-Han. But he won’t deny you if you ask for something, at least, until he learns that teasing you works very, very well. Then you’ll probably have to learn some more patience.

I think he knows for the most part what to do, but he just doesn’t have any hands-on experience for him. He’s a visual learner, want to teach him?

I think Bi-Han would at first think he would prefer receiving than giving, then after realizing how wonderful you look when you fall apart at his touch, he would think he very much prefers giving. It gives him almost a sense of power to see it, it makes him want more.

Still, he wouldn’t deny you if you were to give him a blowjob. It is undeniable how lovely you look on your knees, sucking his cock just to please him. 

If you give him a blowjob, look up at him. It drives him wild and he will probably entangle his hands in your hair if he hasn’t already.

Bi-Han would probably take sex as seriously as training. He’s here to please you after all.

With that being said, I think he’d be probably full of vigor doing anything you wanted. For example, you’d probably feel it the next day with how hard he’d thrust. Or you’d be guaranteed at least one orgasm with him eating you out, because he is a very stubborn man and he won’t stop until he sees you unravel upon his mouth.

I don’t think he’s very vocal. Probably grunts and muffling his noises in your skin.

Back to the teasing idea, I think he would develop a liking to teasing you, edging you if you will. The moans you make, the way you tremble under his touch…it is very appealing to him. Plus, he has a sharp eye, he’d notice how it seems to make the pleasure in the end so much more than if he gave you it right away.

I think he wouldn’t notice it, but if you pull his hair it would ignite some sort of fire within him. 

I like to imagine he would want to kiss during sex here and there. Your lips just look even more lovely in those moments.

He’d probably love to cum inside of you. It’s a little fantasy of his. He wouldn’t though, if there’s a chance for a child. It’s not that he doesn’t want children, he does, he just wants to wait until things are just…right.

[deepseasmetro]

hi! i’m intersex —sorry abt being on anon btw, i would’ve dm’d if i could’ve since i cant do this publicly (im not out about my intersexuality)— and i wanted to talk to you abt that post you made.

your post i think has very good um bones, but i take issue with you seemingly outright grouping intersex activism with trans activism in a way that sort of takes away our agency in the issue? it sounded less like “under the fight for bodily autonomy we’re all comrades” and more like “intersexuals are essentially just transgenders and therefore intersex activism is redundant” . im intersex and transgender (sort of, im sure you understand how it all gets complicated) and ive personally always seen them as… different in totality.

intersex activism is, if anything, “filed under” disability advocacy to me. and i understand this varies from intersex to intersex, but like. most cis intersex people aren’t facing transphobia (exceptions excepted etc). they’re facing intersexism. the fight is, again, similar, b/c it’s all about bodily autonomy. when im fighting for transgender rights and intersex rights, im doing it as a fight for bodily autonomy.

i see where you were coming from, and i mean that genuinely, i just think calling intersex activism that doesnt idk, share the stage (??) with transgender activism “fake as fuck and garbage” seems… a little intersexist. of course it’s a separate issue with separate literature and theory and history, not every intersex is transgender and not every transgender is intersex. it strikes me as saying that any activism that like, centers mentally disabled individuals rather than all disabled individuals is redundant, you know?

thank you for reading 💙

to be honest im not gonna respond to most of this bc i think youre projecting some things onto me i did not say, but i would like to posit that considering intersexism disability advocacy first and foremost is really intriguing to me. why do you think intersexism is better classified as such? what societal forces may exist that would lead somebody to conceptualize a difference in Sex to be akin to disability? im aware that intersex conditions can lead to a variety of health problems mind you but is *that* the Main Problem of intersexism...? or is it the various ways the medical community abuses intersex children (and adults but less so) to make them Conform to a binary sex?

anyways. i didnt say that lol. i said intersex activism that treats intersexism as a wholly unrelated subject to transphobia and transmisogyny is useless. i think trans intersex people should be leading all conversations on intersexism, frankly! and ideally more transfeminine/TMA intersex people!

idk. i think youre kind of liberal, tbh, if you think transphobia and intersexism are about "bodily autonomy" at their core and not the abolition of sex assignment. but whatevs. ofc intersex followers and mutuals im happy to hear ur input but im much less inclined to listen to a random anon sorry. but youre very mistaken if you think im Remotely saying intersex people should have no voice lmao cmon