#if you like spamming the tags with thoughts now is your time i wanna read EVERYTHING

[rickytickychow]

Ok uhhhh initial thoughts cuz I'm SO dazed

FIRST OFF THE ANIMATION KICKED ABSOLUTE ASS WHAAAAAT the fight scenes the goofy little gags the goddamn FIGHT fight everything was so smooth and atmospheric whaaaaat

This got way longer than I anticipated lmao enjoy?

Okay so uh. As cool and awesome as the Cherub b plot was (AND SWEET AND ADORABLE THAT THE REST OF I.M.P. FOLLOWED BLITZ??? AAAAAWWWWW) I think we all Understand What's Going On there so imma dive into the MEAT of this one pun intended lol

Ummmmmm so first of Blitz VERY CLEARLY CARES AND IS ANXIOUS ABOUT SHOWING STOLAS A GOOD TIME???? But since their relationship has been technically "friends with benefits+" all he knows about Stolas is the sex stuff. He didn't even know how to describe the mood!! The MOOD!!! Alexithymic whore. He had NO idea Stolas wanted an emotional conversation because their full moon meetings were Always "hey sexy let's do this" bc they both enjoy each other's company. Blitz's problem is that he sincerely believes that anyone could truly enjoy just his company.

As for Stolas???? Goofy ass bird. Good god. Like he's outta meds he very clearly didn't mean to start their meeting with such a somber tone or make it about his book. While he was talking about Blitz being tied to him, in Blitz's view it very easily sounded like Stolas was the one who felt "tethered." Blitz outright denies this at first because of the routine they've built; he is SO attached to the idea that Stolas only wants sex because it keeps his feelings safe, so when Stolas sprung this on him and actually meant it OF COURSE he got confused.

Hot-and-cold out of meds repressed emo bird or not, Stolas should Not have started it off so emotionally without warning; he then misinterpreted what Blitz was trying to do with the gifts and attitude the imp brought. He cares about Blitz's business, but didn't make it clear that that's what he wanted to talk about. Like starting that off with "I need the book back permanently" when he REALLY should've led with anything else shows how easily a conversation can go south when two people aren't on the same page.

They both tried to do something nice for each other that the other wasn't prepared for. Blitz does care about Stolas but IMMEDIATELY assumed Stolas was getting "creative" with his advances, genuinely confused by the tone-shift compared to their previous meetings. Given the joke sinstagrams and what little full moon fuckery we see in the show, their meetings probably ALWAYS started playfully. Stolas IMMEDIATELY threw a curve ball that Blitz wasn't ready for and takes the imp's Very Inappropriate response as rejection.

It wasn't a rejection, but the way Stolas didn't think for a second WHY Blitz might not believe him to have feelings??? Or even ask???? Fucks me up but at the same time makes sense. Stolas got up and walked away because he was upset, leaving Blitz to be confused and alone in that room.

Who wouldn't get angry at that? Of course Blitz, thinking all his worst fears were being confirmed, finally lashes out about how he feels in his position. He took Stolas's initial words as "I don't want to be stuck with you anymore," found that Stolas really did want to talk about deeper feelings but never clearly expressed it, and Blitz got confused about their normal routine getting disrupted and his own efforts seemingly going unnoticed. And then Stolas leaves him alone. So fast, all of a sudden. Of course Blitz screamed after him, and Stolas doesn't know that this is how Blitz is when he's hurt and angry. It doesn't excuse the lashing out, but Stolas should not have made assumptions so quickly or turned his back on Blitz just like that. But he did, for understandable reasons:

All Stolas knows about Blitz is that his business is important to him.

All Blitz knows about Stolas is that he likes getting laid.

They do not know each other well enough for Stolas to have started that conversation immediately. There should've been a warning, a greeting, anything, but since he's off his meds and on his feels shit, Stolas doesn't get that.

Like AT LEAST SAY "Can we talk first?" Maybe call Blitz and say you have something important to discuss before springing it out of nowhere?????? But of course Stolas didn't think to do that, because he has no idea how Blitz sees himself. He has no idea that Blitz ignores his feelings in favor of actions to the point he can hardly even name them because they do not know each other.

Blitz had no idea that Stolas was being genuine. He had no idea that his push to get back into a normal routine would hurt Stolas because Blitz is not used to those honest conversations. He didn't know Stolas wasn't in the mood based on his posture because they do not know each other. Also Blitz, as we all know, can observe a room to death but cannot READ a room for shit. Autistic fucks both of them.

Stolas ran away because he felt rejected. Blitz screamed at him because he felt abandoned.

Idiots. Queer hypocritical emotionally stunted situationship of situationships I love this cartoon so much

wish my ex-relationship wasn't an early-twenties rendition of this shitshow but thats life lmao (yeah you'll never guess which half I am /sarc)

(Also so fucking cool how the crystal is attached to Blitz's glove).

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[justtheclippy]

Tips and FAQ for Asks

Hello beautiful humans, I want to do my best to get to everyone's asks so here are a few things you can do to help make that happen! (if you're looking for the cast stream master list, skip to the bottom)

Please don't spam the same question repeatedly. I will get to you eventually, I promise! But when you submit the exact same thing multiple times, it just slows me down. I've got one single brain cell, please have mercy.

No spoiler requests. I cannot tell you anything about future episodes, when they will come out, what will happen to certain characters, how the story ends etc. We're limited on what we can say in general until more episodes release. The entire cast has signed NDAs (non disclosure agreement) preventing us from revealing anything, but more than that, we wouldn't want to ruin your experience of watching and engaging with the show organically! Trust me, just enjoy the ride, it's better that way.

Don't take anything too seriously. Please keep in mind most of these answers will just be for fun. My thoughts and opinions on the character, both for silly things like favorite dessert and more serious things like character analysis, are not hard and fast canon. Same goes for any of the actors. We can speculate about our characters, we know and understand them well, but when in doubt, assume its allllllllllllll non-canonical haha

Read through previous asks. This will help prevent asking things I've already answered. I'm going to be tagging (i swear I'll do it fr) my answers with #amanda asks and #tadc asks so you can find them more easily. If you do ask a question I've already answered IT'S OK DON'T PANIC I won't be upset haha

Even though I'll be tagging my answers so you can easily find them, here are a few frequently asked questions just to get them out of the way. If you decide to ask me something I've already answered, or something that goes against the guidelines above, I'll probably skip it, you silly geese.

Q: I've seen people use several different pronouns for you, what are your preferred pronouns? A: They/them and I prefer masc leaning terms generally! I'm queer, NB and very open about my identity. But people will sometimes use she/her because they don't know. I will never get upset with someone for not knowing- it's ok. But now that you've read this, you know! So you can go forth educated. You're welcome to correct anyone who doesn't know, but please be kind to each other. We've all been the person who didn't know before.

Q: What do you think of X ship? A: I love and support all the ships! Ships are part of a healthy fandom, keep creating content that makes you feel seen and that YOU want to see, that's the foundation of creativity. And if anyone disagrees with you, remind them that a lot of classics are just fanfiction about the gods at the time. It's always been here.

Q: What is your favorite ship? A: Bunnydoll and Buttonblossom, because the dynamics are so much fun.

Q: Do you like X AU? A: Yes. It doesn't matter what it is, yes. I love the AUs and if it's a new one, you better include a link so I can find it. I want all of them, thank you so muuuuuuuuch~

Q: Have you seen or played X game/show/movie/meme etc.? A: Always happy to chat about other media! But if you wanna ask about something specific, please include a link or explanation because lets be just so very honest, half the time my brain is off in adhd land so there's a good chance I'll have no idea what you're talking about at first.

Q: Have you watched Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure? A: Not yet! But due to VERY POPULAR REQUEST I will be putting together a watch stream to watch it live with yall. Once that's happened, I'll put the link here.

Q: Have you seen Queen's second game and will you be playing it? A: Yes, we've all seen the trailer and we're very excited! We will be playing it as a full cast, just like last time, as soon as the game is finished. For now, please go enjoy the demo and support the team! Once it's out and we're ready to stream it, I'll post the link here.

Q: Can you come to X convention? A: I will come to any convention that yall want to see me at!

BUT

In order for that to happen, you have to request me directly with the convention. Most will have either a request form on their site or a specific email for requests. Just write in that you would like to see me at their event, and then they will get in touch with my agent to book me!

Q: Can I request a song for you to sing? A: Of course! I promise yall I'll do my best to put out more songs this year. If there's a cover you want me to consider doing, or an artist/composer you'd like to hear me work with, let me know!

Outside of that, if you just want a little clip, you can drop requests in the asks and if I know the song I might record a bit. This is COMPLETELY dependent on time, especially if I'm busy. Please understand ❤️

You can also make requests during stream signings, which is easier to accommodate in the moment. Just put the request in the order notes, and I'll sing a little bit for you while I sign IF I know the song. So choose wisely.

Q: Can I write an ask just to show you cool stuff or tell you you're awesome? A: Of course you can! You can also tag me in stuff, that's ok too. I appreciate all the love and support yall have shown for me, Ragatha and the show in general. Yall are truly incredible. ❤️

Q: Do you have a PO Box so we can send you stuff? A: I'm setting it up THIS WEEK. I will post it here when it's ready.

Q: Where can I find X stream that the cast did? A: Moving forward, I will keep a master list of our group streams in order of date aired, to the best of my ability. If I miss one, let me know and I'll get it on here!

Saberspark TADC Cast Interview

Streamily Signing #1 (Amanda, Michael, Alex, Marissa)

Streamily Signing #2 (Amanda and Michael)

Streamily Signing #3 (Amanda and Sean)

Streamily Signing #4 (Amanda, Sean, Alex, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish)

TADC Fan Game Stream: Game 1

Streamily Signing #5 (Amanda, Alex, Ashley, Sean, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish, Wiz)

Fast Food Simulator Charity Stream (Amanda, Lizzie, Marissa, Michael, Ashley)

Marissa's Streamily Signing CRASHED by Amanda, Alex, Michael, Max (RU Caine/Jax), Julian (DE Jax), Adam (NL Jax), and Philip (NL Chad/Max)

[the-crafty-unicorn]

"Hi...! I'm CraftyCorn! Wanna help me with my painting? :)"

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Last Edit: January 29th (Added a new rule)

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[Hello there! I'm Mod Tune! Pleasure to meet you all! I'll be running this blog to go with the other Smiling Critters!! Just know, this character is not mine and belongs to the creators of Poppy Playtime!! All art comes from there, too, but I will be making my own as well as fanart and reaction images!!]

[This ask blog currently consists of both Craftycorn and Bigger Craftycorn, as well as BB Crafty's mini critters! So go ahead and shoot any of them some asks! Crafty has her own tags while both BB Crafty and the mini critters share some tags. All of my designs for the characters here are all underneath the cut at the end of the main things on this post, so check those out!]

[This blog will include topics such as depression, loss of sanity, swearing (mostly from mod), harmful thoughts, some acts of violence, and few other topics I cannot name at the time. Interact at your own risk, you have been warned]

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RULES OF THE BLOG!

1. No inappropriate asks! This is a PG-13 blog!

2. Some violent asks are okay, like basic acts to harm her, but please just do not go overboard with them. As in, do not graphically explain them or have it result in missing limbs. It hurts to read.

3. Ask me before involving me in anything! I've been having issues with this for a few days now, and I need to finally bring it up.

4. No forced roleplaying! Aka, don't narrate my characters for me! Please! I've had one or two asks/reblogs like this, and it really doesn't make me motivated to answer them! Roleplaying characters means I play my characters, and you play yours, don't decide what my characters do for me.

5. Don't spam my inbox/notes often. I have a life outside of this blog, so if I don't answer asks or reblogs, I need you to be patient with me.

6. Do not judge me for my headcanons, roleplay threads, or what friends I have here. It's a very cruel thing to judge, and I'd rather you not.

7. Please, don't steal/repost my art. It may not be much compared to other artists, but I'd like my art to stay my own. Please and thank you.

8. Magic anons are okay!! You're allowed to send them as long as I can understand them and they make sense for the Poppy Playtime universe

9. This is an extension of rule 5. I'm not obligated to answer every ask, so if I don't answer something, please don't repeatedly send things asking for me to answer. You can remind me of an ask, yes, but for most asks I don't answer, they either make me uncomfortable, are from someone/about someone I don't wish to associate myself with, or I can't figure out any type of response.

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"Normal speech"

Thinking!! Hmmm...

"YELLING!!!!"

"Shh... quiet..."

-Lights, camera, ACTION!-

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The other Smiling Critters!! [GO FOLLOW THE OTHER COOL PEOPLE 🫵]

Dogday (big & small) - @that-sunny-pup (both) & @dogday-shines-bright

Kickin' - @the-cool-chicken

Bubba - @bubba-bubbaphant & @bubbathe-bubbaphant

Hoppy - @hoppyhopscotch1 & @bunny-go-hop-hop

Bobby - @lil-miss-bearhug & @bearhugs-from-bobby

Picky - @picky-piggy

Catnap (big & small) - @acat-foryournap & @catnaplovesnaptime

[And here are the Nightmare Critters!!!]

Baba - @baba-chops-emo-sheep

Rabie - @rabie-baby-bat

Simon - @simon-the-dragon

Allister - @allister-the-procrastigator

Poe - @poe-the-crow

[Mod's HC design of the girl:]

[My bigger body Crafty design!]

[My mini critters' designs!!]

[My favorite Crafty art!]

[wikiangela]

Weekend WIP Game

tagged by @jesuisici33 <3

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

1. WIP List:

alive shannon

sick eddie

buddie coffee shop

new buddie chris' school

roommates

bi eddie

buddie death cast fic

cheating fic

untitled natalia fic

buddie 2x01

5+1 nicknames

coffee buddie

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

alive shannon with 20k words so far

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

alive shannon, since it's kinda a canon rewrite and I still haven't decided to which point it's gonna go, we'll see when it'll feel right to end it haha

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

once again, alive shannon haha - it's just so fun to explore what all those dynamics could've been, and giving Eddie and Shannon some closure, and I love exploring Shannon's character, too, speculating on her thoughts and motivations, and diving into everyone's heads, and I'm so excited to see it all develop!!

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

I think it's either alive shannon or the cheating fic alive shannon bc I've never written s2/s3 buddie and I wanna get their characters semi-right, and I don't remember a lot of details so I need to get on with my rewatch lol - and also writing Shannon's and Eddie's feelings on their relationship and how it all ended is not easy haha and the cheating fic bc it's so not my thing but a song inspired it and it got stuck in my head and it's happening haha and I hope I'll make it make sense haha

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

tbh all of them - some more, some less, but there are moments, especially lately, when veeeery often I'm just like: everything I write sucks wtf

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

@giddyupbuck agreed to beta the alive shannon fic, and I spam them with snippets if I'm in doubt and it's sooo helpful fr ily <3 and I'll need alive shannon beta-read bc it's gonna be so long, and I keep changing my mind about things bc of how many ideas I have, so I just need someone else to look at it and tell me if everything makes sense haha - and Ro's helped me so much with some previous fics so they have my full trust with my baby that is the alive shannon fic haha

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

all of them at some point lol - a few of these are actually on hold bc of that - I will get back to them tho!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

as of now there's no ocs in any of these, but we'll see haha

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

cheating fic and maaaaybe coffee buddie (if I'll ever get back to this one) - no actual smut in my wips yet atm

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

buddie death cast fic - if you've read 'they both die at the end' you know why lol this is not gonna have a happy ending

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

so far I'm loving everyone in alive shannon so I guess let's go with that haha

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

oh I am so bad this - but maybe let's say buddie coffee shop au bc i think it's the only one where I put even a little bit of focus on the setting lmao

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

alive shannon, been thinking about it and making notes for months before I started writing, and I don't think i've ever been this invested in a fic

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

alive shannon - - like I said, it's my most precious baby, and I'm so excited to not only write it but read it, and I hope it's gonna be as good as it is in my head, and I hope I'll make the story make sense with Shannon there, but also keeping some important buddie moments from canon hah

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

not sure if i've ever dreamt about a wip, but i do get new ideas in my sleep sometimes lol

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

alive shannon will have switching povs which i rarely do, so it's gonna be a challenge to write three distinct voices - and diving into Shannon's head and feelings and motivations will also definitely be hard

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

I think sick eddie - he's so ridiculously stubborn and difficult istg haha or buddie coffee shop with how fucking awkward buck's being

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

yep, once again, alive shannon - it's as much a buddie fic as it is a shannon fic, so it's not exactly outside pov, bc I'm just excited to focus on her equally as much, on how she's settling into their lives, becoming a better mom, being involved in Chris' life - she's gonna have as much focus as buddie sns it's not easy, bc it's alternating povs and once I get stuck in Eddie's head it's hard to leave, but so far it's been fun

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs

uhhh, I think I share like everything lol okay, so maybe: alive shannon will definitely go at least up until s4 and will include Eddie dating Ana 👀 purely bc I want a buddie-shipping Shannon to be like wtf eddie??? also, there will be more than one mcd in the death cast fic and coffee buddie was loosely inspired by a small thing from luke cage lol

no pressure tags: @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley @weewootruck @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @underwater-ninja-13 @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus @eowon @callaplums @spotsandsocks

[eggs-can-draw]

you probably missed those because I copied your tags before saying anything so you couldn't tell from the notifs, which I spammed, mostly with rbs that didn't add anything, it's understandable that you didn't check all of them, so I screenshotted them for you. Again, no hate on your choice of a cat breed, I love all cats, I think I just have a problem with coming on strong when I have an alternative idea. And the way I pictured Monaca's possible involvement, is her recording it for her tiktok or something tiktok adjacent. Komaru tried to install some sort of parental control on her phone that'd make it impossible for her to download it, but out of the two Monaca is far superior in dealing with technology, so Teaching Babies to Swear Pt.9 goes viral

YOU FOOL. YOU UTTER BUFOON (affectionate <3) I READ AND REREAD THESE LIKE EVERY FUCKING DAY BECAUSE THEY MAKE ME GRIN LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT.

I never responded cause I didn't wanna be annoying or anything I'm bad at people sometimes aaaaaugh 👉👈

Listen. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes. At least in my opinion, you come off strong in a good way. You're PASSIONATE!!! I FUCKING LOVE TO SEE IT BESTIE!!! NEVER LET ANYONE PUT YOU DOWN FOR BEING PASSIONATE!!!!! The thought of Kokichi with a ferret is fucking inspired and I LOVE IT SLINKY LITTLE GUY FOR THE SLINKY LITTLE GUY. also YES HAJIME IS SUCH A BASIC BITCH. I could totally see him going to a shelter or smth and just adopting the first kitty that comes up to him. love at first sight. He did not realize how much he would miss the constant chaos 24/7 until he's helping Kokichi with his little backpack (no leash attached this time) and watching him run into school. Sometimes a gremlin is what makes a house a home. (also them having a tabby means so so so much to me now, I had a tabby growing up and she was the sweetest cat ever) Also LMAO I LOVE LOVE LOVE TIKTOKER MONACA. SHE IS AN ABSOLUTE MENACE. KOMARU HAS TRIED EVERY PARENTAL LOCK IN THE BOOK BUT MONACA STAYS SILLY. also just. ough. this one. this one actually makes me sob. I LOVE THIS SO SO SO MUCH IVE BEEN REREADING IT ALL DAY JUST. THINKING. so so so so so so so many thoughts AGH. THE AFTERMATH. HAJIME BEING TOSSED INTO THE ROOM WITH THE PARENTS, TOTALLY PASSED OUT (they got him with a second horse tranq when his back was turned) KOMAEDA WATCHING HAJIME AND THE DOOR LIKE A FUCKING HAWK, SONIA WANTING TO REACT BUT SHE KNOWS SHE FUCKING KNOWS IF SHE DOES ANYTHING THEY'RE ALL GOING TO BE IN EVEN MORE TROUBLE. She takes a deep breath. Pulls out her perfect practiced princess quality smile. She speaks like the queen she was built to become. She wants to tear them apart limb from limb. (also just throwing this out there because I thought of it earlier, Naegi was "Formally Escorted Off The Premises" after the punch) also just. ough. it's an important distinction with the origin of their talents. The dr1 and sdr2 squad's talents are talent born from despair. The v3 kids have talent that's born from hope. Hope for the future hope for themselves and it just. mmmh.

[bromcommie]

For the ask game ;)

🏜️,❄️,🥐,🌻 aaand 🥤

Hope you are having a good day!

Hiya, thanks for the retaliatory hit! (affectionate) hope you're having a lovely day too :) 🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? Ooh, can I just say any? Kidding, albeit I am very grateful for everyone who takes the time out to comment, even if it's just a string of emojis or something! But I am eternally grateful for long, detailed comments and especially love when people point the things that they related to in my work or things that clicked for them (particularly the ones I thought might be overlooked or alternatively, too heavy-handed to land) or even line up certain things or parallels that didn't fully register to me while I was writing except as a vague ~vibe~. I just appreciate it a whole lot, and it makes the whole exchange feel like a conversation. ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

Hm, I don't know - I don't think I have one specific dream theme/plot. That said I have been thinking a lot about Red Room/Department X plotlines recently. I really love the throughline of the struggle for identity + shifting ideologies/definitions of what it means to be a good person + autonomy & free will vs. wanting to belong dichotomy in those stories. Especially when it's grounded in interesting dynamics that aren't very black and white (i.e. Nat and the other widows, the handlers, the WS.) That era is also just very interesting to me in terms of real world circumstances and events, and the scifi potential to explore trauma and psychological fuckery in general is endless. So I guess I'd really love something that deals with Natasha's memories as a child + teen in the war and how that shaped her both before the Red Room even got their hands on her, as well as during and after; how she became this kind of mercurial person who is still (maybe surprisingly so) solid at her core. Something a la Name of the Rose, if you've read that run.

As for who I'd like to write it, I am in fact attempting to write something to that effect into my current post-CATWS wip, so I guess me? Not to say I wouldn't love to read something similar by someone else - there have been several fics out there that dealt with Natasha in a way that had me staring into empty space for an hour (in a good way) - just that I enjoy the process of developing ideas like that in my head differently than I do reading about them from another angle, if that makes sense!

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

that vine with the two guys with heavy NY/NJ area accents screaming at a duck. wait no - any patrick william charlton vine where he suddenly acquires a german accent. wait no - the can I PLEASE get a waffle one.

oh man. any one vine really. I'm very nostalgic about vine. 🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

I feel like if I started doing that I'd end up spamming way too many people haha. I do wanna say I very much appreciate everyone I've gotten to interact with and follow during this CATWS10 event and over the past two months I’ve been on here more!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love Oh, god. GOD. This is so tough, I'm really blanking right now. I've been around for a loong while lol and there are so, so many insane, brilliant ones. It doesn't help that I really haven't read that many in the last few years as much as I've been writing them.

Off the top of my head though, I recently went back to Speranza's All the Angels and the Saints. One of the all-time old school Cap greats. All of their stuff is just wonderful, foundational Steve, Bucky & SteveAndBucky content. Also everything by magdaliny. I don't even know what to say there, except maybe goddamn.

I’ve also been reading a couple Red Room fics that I can’t find right now but that were great, so I’ll have to dig through my old laptop bookmarks and get back to you with a personalized list, hehe 🫡

[ruporas]

hi!! it's the anon with massive brainrot that spammed 3 fat asks at once <3

i'm so so so happy that u responded to all my ramblings so earnestly. and in DEPTH. that last rant u had about the nature of vashwood and how they view each other and their insecurities and all that... it took me forever to read cuz i kept stopping to just Sit and Think About It

but u also asked about that spotlight metaphor i mentioned and. it's bad lmfao

i was actually thinking about in 98 trigun where wolfwood takes a very permanent vacation. i'd remembered a kind of spotlight effect on him during that scene, and looking it up just now i realize it was cuz one of the church windows cast this warm square of light over him

so my memory was slightly off- i'd thought it was more of an actual spotlight- but i lost my mind when i thought you might've been referencing it for some reason. i didn't wanna bring it up tho cuz i figured i was wrong, and evidently i was lol

anywho, YAY LOST PAGE RECOVERY! kind of honored that i accidentally dug it up

bound to want still reads surprisingly smooth despite the fact it was missing a whole page tho. i never would've known if you didnt say anything. ETERNALLY happy i have it now, of course- it's beautiful and i adore the composition <3 it speaks so strongly to the atmosphere and what's going on

side note: would it be ok if i messaged u to talk about vashwood more? cuz i can Seriously ramble nonstop but i feel like im annoying your other followers lol (it's like i have everyone cuffed to desks as i aggressively slap a whiteboard with bound to want pasted on it)

i just. want to praise your work so Bad. i notice so many little things and it gets swept under the rug so much cuz an anon ask can only get so obnoxious haha.

but yeah! thanks sm for bein so amazing. i hope school goes well for you so u can thrive with vashwood this summer <3

(also i SAW that tag about bonus content. i Saw it. i'm Thinking about it)

OHHHHHH I understand what you mean by that though! It makes sense to me to presume that considering the confetti notes haha, but yeah, just one reference to his permanent vacation and it's in the confetti!!

BUT WAH, thank you so much again for your kind kind words!!! Yes, feel free to message me whenever, I always welcome it. It'll definitely take me some time to respond because life and I also like to sit down with a response and have the proper coherency to respond with my full attention and stuff. It's an honor to hear about detail analysis about my work so!!! I welcome it, thank you so so much!!!

[sungbeam]

Hello!

Firstly I wan’t to apologize for the spam once again 😭 but I wanted to show you how much your writing means to me and to all of deobiblr since I see that you’ve been struggling with reblogs :(

I just want you to know that it’s not your fault, nor is it your writing. While I was going through the LIU ML I did notice that there was quite a huge difference in reblogs and interactions but please don’t think that it’s because of your writing! Tbh it can be a multiple of factors such as people only reading fics for certain members (even though they’re missing out on amazing stories but wtv-), ghost readers, people forgetting to reblog the second part (cough cough), shyness ig??, not realizing it was a part of a series, they’re no longer active to complete reading the series, they want to wait fir the series to end before reading it all in one go, or because they simply don’t know that reblogs weigh more than likes on tumblr :(

So…. Yeah! I just wanted to reassure you that all your fics hold such a dear place in my heart and I never want you to forget how much joy you, your fics, and your writing bring to people! Including me haha

I’m also wishing that my reblogs helped at least a little with getting more exposure to the LIU series and provide you with a little comfort that people are still reading and appreciating! Sorry, I feel like I keep repeating myself haha ^^;

Oh! And I’ve also read all your replies and thank you! Ily too 😭🫶 I wish my reactions were a little fresher but I kept up with the series since the beginning basically and I haven’t re-read them (YET!) so my reactions might be a little dull or repetitive/doesn’t bring anything new to the table but thank you for taking your time to read through all of them!

I’m a bit of a blog lurker sometimes so tbh I just read whatever was posted/asked LMAOOOO so I can’t remember exactly where I get some info from but I do know that it was said at one point 😭

Ok sorry that I keep trailing on but thank you once again for taking your time to read this and all my other reblogs and I only wish you the absolute best! Good vibes, lots of love, showers with kisses and roses for you forever! 😚

(P.s. you can decide if you want to answer this publicly or like… subtweet me or smth idk 😭 I was just a lil too shy to be all up in your dms HAHA ok bye fr now muah)

omg user floatingpluto ur so precious 🫂 PLS don't apologize for the reblog spam, i literally had the absolute time of my life both reading thru ur tags AND replying to them (´Д⊂ヽ sometimes idek what to say in response to reblogs bc i feel like i get repetitive even tho i just wanna express my appreciation :')) but it was really fun replying to urs !!!

ahhhh the trouble w reblogs 😔🤧 i fear it's a struggle for everyone nowadays, and i feel a little silly being such a child abt them when ik i prob get a little more interaction than some others :') but thank u for being so kind and considerate abt it!! no matter what, ur reblogs did help me in more ways than one and i appreciate that so, so much. also w the less interactions bit, i def understand that things r going on in people's lives other than fanfic, which is what i keep trying to remind myself of when i do have those really low days of interaction </3 ig my insecurity is just glaringly obvious nowadays 🤡😭

ALSO no worries abt whether or not u bring something "new" to the table in ur replies TT i personally thought they were quite fun and unique!! take ur time w the rereads, and don't feel like u have to just cuz u told me u were gonna !! 😋

much love and hugs!!! 💖💖

[liverpool-enjoyer]

hi max!

max appreciation day might’ve ended on the east coast but here on the west coast i’m still celebrating so i thought third’s would be the perfect time to tell you how much you mean to me!

i know self doubt is truly heinous but honestly you are a joy!! you make me laugh so hard you don’t even know, you truly know how to make me lose it with your tags. all your asks and comments on my posts and replies to my asks are always so thoughtful and i enjoy reading and replying to them each time because it is a joy to interact with you. more max is always appreciated!! i treasure your presence every day 🫂

you’re so supportive of my crazy hockey rants or my neymessi delulu i appreciate it so much. every time i see you spam liking my posts i feel very warm inside, you spark so much joy as marie kondo would say. i appreciate your support more than you’ll know.

i see you in every yellow flower i see, because you are a ray of sunshine. every time my silly little hockey podcast talks baseball i think of you, and any time i get liverpool tiktoks i think of you. you are constantly on my mind, and every time i think of you i send a little wish into the universe that your shoes stay ties, you see an abundance of little yellow flowers, and the food you’re craving is in your fridge.

ilysm max, please never doubt your importance here. you are incredible and idk where i’d be without your max moments

🫶 k

KAYYYYYYY (i realize thats not how you spell your name but i needed to elongate it to like,,, express how im feeling.)

what a lovely thing to wake up to 🥹 i wanna write you something equally as heartfelt but im truly at a loss for words. more than usual.

you have no idea how much this means, man. actually you probly do now that i think abt it youre smart lmao. i'll likely come back to read this whenever im dealing w those lovely feelings a being no ones favorite.

k, im bad w words n especially bad at being sincere, but i can only hope that i am as good a friend to you as you are to me, n to everyone else for that matter!! you have so much love to give, i wonder where you keep it all <3 i cant,,, word it well, but know that i love you too n am thinking a you always :)) you know, you KNOW, when those stanley cup playoffs come around im jus gonna be thinking "damn,,, hope k's having fun w this one" for the entire time that theyre happening 😭😭

yknow this time last year i was going through what was (hopefully) the loneliest time in my life. now when i pray to God i thank Him for giving me friends like you.

oh n i hope your shoes are tied too cause it would suck if you tripped tbh

[lacrymosa-91]

Writer Interview Game! <3

Thank you so much for tagging me @sleepstxtic! You are so sweet for even thinking about me. I apologise for how pathetic my answers will be.

how many works do you have on ao3? 6 on AO3 and 6 on Fanfiction.net which have been due for a deletion for a while now. Prolly should get on that this weekend. :D

what's your total ao3 word count? A humble 65,702.

your top 5 stories by kudos? Given I have only 6 stories it's not exactly much of a fight. :D

Maktub (Dune)

Pointe (Dune)

Hard as breathing (Teen Wolf)

The Fear that Binds us (Teen Wolf)

Drowned in Honey (Dune)

do you respond to comments? Always. I love interaction and talking to people about shared obsessions so I always make a conscious effort to reply to comments.

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uhh, look I am not a prolific writer. I fantasize and plan on a daily basis but I have very little to show for it. I wouldn't say anything of what I have put out there has angsty ending as such. I always try to put out happy endings because I generally torture the characters so they at least get a happy ending. I have only one multi-chap, so I can't really speak for the one shots. Promise Maktub will have a happy ending but it will be an earned one.

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I hope that will be Maktub if I do get to finish it. :)

do you write crossovers? Not a fan of crossovers. Don't write or read crossover stories as I feel things get wishy washy very easily.

have you ever received hate on a fic? I have years and years ago while I was still on Fanfiction.net. It was something to do with the ship being underage.

do you write smut? Always. I am a horndog.

have you ever had a fic stolen? Never.

have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Never.

have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope, haven't had the pleasure to.

what's your all-time favorite ship? This is a hard question. I operate very much on a hyperfixation basis in a given moment. My attention is currently very heavily occupied by:

Dune : Paul x Feyd

JJK: Yuji x Sukuna / Yuji x Gojo

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? Oh god, I wanna finish Maktub so bad. I really hope I will manage. It's about half way through. I do fear I won't make it.

what are your writing strengths? Hmm, it's difficult to do self-assessment. I have been told I have good flow and create athmosphere well. I like bringing in detail and nuance into my writing, I am not sure I am managing.

what are your writing weaknesses? I am pantser. No outlines, no order, no planning. I tend to make shit up as I go and sometimes that comes to bite me back. I am also horribly inconsistent in writing. When I am obssessed I write like a woman possessed. Once the madness settles a bit I find it really hard to gather the motivation to sit down and type. Also, I can't do initial drafts. I want it to be good from the moment I put it down, which essentially means I take ages to finish anything cause I fight and fight with a sentence until it's right before I can move on.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I do not mind it in reading if it is justified and appropriately translated. As a writer I always feel nerveous doing it unless I have the chance to check with a native speaker. It is so easy to butcher a language.

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? I am so into JJK at the moment it's not even funny. I wanna write Gojo x Yuji or Sukuna x Yuju or all three of them in a messed up toxic triangle. I have so many ideas!

what's your favorite fic you've ever written? Probably Maktub? I am really pleasantly surprised by how well it has been received.

Tagging: @occlusivavelare @sekhmetpaws and won't be spamming the rest of the writers I thought of but the lovely Kat has already tagged. Thank you so much for including me in this, Kat @sleepstxtic! <3

[kavtsuki]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : if you think you have a problem with me that is simply based off you not liking me: i do not care. block me, don't mention my name and certainly do not send hate to my blog. now, if this problem is important and you want to talk about it like adults then you're free to send me a message. petty drama? do not involve me. this is tumblr, dude. no one cares and i won't waste my time with someone who can't have a mature conversation.

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

my blog is strictly 18+, i can’t make you stop reading something but please don’t like, reblog or comment on any of my works if you’re a minor. if you don’t wanna be blocked please have your age in your bio.

i write and interact with dark content such as noncon/dubcon, incest/stepcest, and other taboo topics so do not follow me if you think that you're going to feel offended about certain stuff that i write and talk about. honestly just block me because i do not care about your views around dark content creators and their works.

do not interact with me if you're racist, homophobic, transphobic, invalidate pronouns, misogynistic, xenophobic, etc.

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐅

your blog is blank and doesn't have any reblogs from my works or another writer's works. reblogs are important to keep writers motivated especially if you share your opinion with us. if you don't reblog or comment any works i'll just assume you won't provide any further commentary about my fics or other writer's fics and i want to keep my blog full of people who will do that.

you send hate to other writers. you're allowed to not like someone but sending hate is a whole different story, especially if you do while hiding behind anon. you're just a coward and you're not welcome here.

you participe in discourse. racism, xenophobia, ableism, doxxing and harrassment aren't discourse, they're important issues that we need to address when necessary. but do not expect me to share discourse around petty tumblr drama about people who should just grow up and talk to each other like adults. do not expect me to take anyone's side on drama.

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

do not spam like my works, i appreciate reblogs with tags or comments a lot more than likes because it shows me that you really read what i wrote and want to show your opinions about it.

hate messages will be immediately deleted and blocked, if you think i care about what you think about me or the content i write or consume you’re mistaken, i won’t engage in any discourse or hate on that topic.

i love interacting and making friends but i’m very shy. however, if you ever think about sending an ask, please do. i probably thought about doing the same but chickened out honestly.

please don't ask me to follow you back. chances are, if you're following the guidelines i've explained throughout my entire blog, i'll probably follow you back no matter what. so if you follow me and i don't follow back right away, it's either cause i'm offline or i just don't feel like doing so.

and lastly, please don't submit a story of yours or message/ask me to read something you've written unless we're extremely close mutuals. either way, it's likely that if you are a content creator in any way, i will reblog something of yours, whether it's on this blog or another of mine.

[twotangledsisters]

Update.

First, I just want to thank everybody, I didn't want to re-blog an answer each individual post because; I don't wanna spam people?

So very quickly:

Thanks to @frozenwolftemplar cause your always so gentle with your words and the (like that festival with the sculptures that go 🔥🔥🔥) got me laughing. Also, I'd love to see more fics in different styles? I love when writers experiment! (same for any artists, I get so excited when an artist I follow tried out a new medium!)

Thanks to @nyleeu-e especially cause, knowing you also went through like, going into tumblr not logged in (might of misunderstood that) and found out the same thing brings my social anxiety down a lot. Cause... I just start overanalising soooo fast and end up thinking the worst, but I love your blog, there's nothing problematic going on? So I guess that kinda reinforces what a lot of people have said about it being a tts thing.

And @batata-doce-com-farofa of course thanks for the king words and yeah, the tags, a lot of people have suggested it's along those lines.

I'm not sure if in the past I've been very lucky to be in chills fandoms. I've been extremely ignorant to drama that was happening. Or times have just changed and in the time I was in uni unable to really be in a fandom interacting the way I am now, I was caught off guard by this change...

A friend also reminded me on the phone about how I use a 'mute' feature, so I don't block people unless it's absolutely necessary, I just have a feature which stops posts showing on my dashboard and stuff. And I do this mainly because, I may not like a certain ship or dynamic but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy other content from people? Also, I don't know if that person is reading a fic of mine on ao3 and there going to one day try to reach out on tumblr and find out their blocked and a have panic attack...

And saying that, I realize the fact my mind goes over this whole thought process as to why not to block someone, probably say a lot about my own socialy anxiety.

I think as well this hit me hard because I did a post a while back being like 'I have this paranoid feeling I'm invading the tts fandom space', and this felt like tumblr screaming that paranoia was correct...

That and there were a few people who's fanfics I interact with on ao3 who had me blocked... So... That's fun.

Plus, I've actually had a few hateful anon asks recently that I've been ignoring and kinda hoping/assuming it's all one single person... But there's always that bit in your brain that says 'what if it's a bunch of people!' But I have had A LOT more positive anonymous asks in my inbox (plus I value shy people and I think people who don't have a tumblr account can only ask anonymously so I wanna leave them on for fic readers who aren't on tumblr?)

Rambling, sorry.

I reached out today to my doctor and I'm going to get an 'emergency' meeting to get my anxiety meds checked cause... Something's not working. I've also been pulled aside by another doctor over weight loss the other day so, maybe that's something to do with my anxiety? (It'd be kinda nice if it was, like, two stones one bird?)

I should probably fully step away from the internet but, cause I work from home and my friends live 2 hours away... Tumblr, fandom, it all kinda becomes my social interaction between friend visits? Like, I'm an introvert but, it's nice to not be completely alone. I'ts hard to say if the internet does more or less for mental health some days...

I'll definitely be a bit less active on here while I reign in my anxiety.

None of this will affect Ao3, I am always like 40 days ahead of schedule!

I'll probably just log into Tumblr when I'm going to post something (like if I finish an animation, probably won't be doing all the works in progress stuff...) but if anybody wants to chat just pm me and I'll sell you my discord, that's on my phone so that notified me even when I'm not logging into tumblr!

I also have some anon asks in my inbox to do with animation suggestions, I've seen them! Except for one they're all great ideas I'd love to get around to! It just takes time I'm afraid, but I promise they've been received.

So yeah...

Huge thanks for all the kind words.

I think I'm going to go take a nap.

So I just made a huge mistake because... I was browsing tumblr from my ipad and didn't realize I wasn't on my usual account, and I was on the tangled the series tab and there was soooooo much content!

I was thrilled and then I realized...

It's not that there was a lot of content today.

It's that half the fandom seems to have me blocked.

And I don't know which fandoms rules I've broken to earn my exile...

But yeah.

I'm feeling.... Honestly, extremely, extremely unwell right now.

Like... I don't know what I'm going to do.

My instinct is delete tumblr, NEVER EVER EVER comment on a fic ever again because that's the only negative interactions I've had... And just.... Disappear off of tumblr (not ao3, I don't think my fanfics are the drama and I'm too deep into that rabbit hole)....

But obviously I'm writing this literally as I am made aware....

I'm just feeling extremely shitty right now.

And as though all my social anxiety is correct and most people hate me and.... Yeah.

I think I'm going to just go make a tea and watch some cartoons.

I wish I knew what I did...

I feel like I mostly just post animations and jokes and... I try to interact with the community but maybe I shouldn't have tried to interact.

[hanmasghost]

Nahoya Kawata as a… Secret Admirer

Please check my page before requesting

A/N: this was something I posted at the end of a Tokyo Revengers quiz I made, and I decided to post it here as it may get the appreciation it deserves. Tbh I can post all the other quiz results right now but I don’t wanna spam tags with just my shit🥲

Pronouns: not specified

Warning(s): none✨

He told Souya(Angry) about you, and what did he say? 

“Pfft- you can think about someone without wanting to punch their face in? Oh I’m sooo telling mom.”

And then they fought. In the end, their mum came into the room, scolded them for fighting… that was until she found out the reason.

”Awwh! So there is someone other then me and Souya that you don’t wanna beat up! Tell me all about them!” 

“But uh- I have school… work? to do?”

”You don’t do that shit, plus, we have all the time in the world” 

Nahoya then proceeded to tell Souya and his mother about you, otherwise they would’ve bugged him to no end.

His mother, after hearing about your likes and dislikes, and of course how/what Nahoya thinks about you, she informed Nahoya that she and him would be making you a bento every night/morning and he would write a note to you and give them to you everyday. 

He pretended to give/gave it some thought, but then agreed he liked the idea. 

So that’s what he did. He either made a bento by himself or with his mother, sometimes Souya even joined in and teased Nahoya. Then he would go on by himself to write some kind of note. Sometimes the note was just a simple quote that he liked, his feelings, words of encouragement, or just something funny like

‘Biderman, Biderman,

Does whatever a bider can,

Kiss a guy? Sure why not?

Also thinks that girls are hot’

he will write it and put it on your desk in the mornings. Then he’ll continue with his day, whether it’s skipping school and doing stuff with Toman, or staying at school and beating up some kids who talked shit. Though… he always sometimes he will stick around to see how you react to the bento and his [lovely/funny] note. He enjoys seeing you’re [joyful smile/small smirk] as you read the note and how you look up curiously to see who gave you it every time just for him to duck around the corner.

By the time he’s ready to confess to you face to face, is probably when it’s been a few months. I wouldn’t say he was nervous to confess, he just had a lot of fun seeing your [handsome/pretty/gorgeous] face every time you found the his bento and note on your desk.

The way he confessed was kinda bold in a way.

What happened was- he did his normal routine. Made you a bento, and a note. And then headed off to school. Though this time. He didn’t put them on your desk, nononono he kept them. And waited for you. You showed up and noticed that there was no bento or note on your desk. 

He didn’t know what you were thinking but you didn’t seem to question it too much. Thankfully.

Eventually class started. Well, it would have. If he didn’t bust in through the door. He walked over to you, put the bento and note on your desk, and stood there. 

You look up at him. He’s just standing there, softly smiling at you. On the note it says

”So uh- I’m the one who’s been giving you these, if you haven’t realized that already. And assuming you already know how I feel, would you like to go on a date?” 

So? What are you gonna say? Are you gonna accept his offer? Or turn him down?

[mizunetzu]

omg i’m so excited i like,, spam read all of your writing and now i can request,,, anyway, could i request maybe something similar to your Tanaka x femboy reader, but with Oikawa? like he mistakes him for a girl and maybe flirts with the reader a little bit and the reader i just like ,,”you do,, you do realize i am a man correct” and hijinks ensue?? sorry if this is too vague i suck at describing things. lotsa love your writing is literally my favorite 💕

Omg wait Oikawa??? And femboy reader??? Hijinks???? Take me now—

——————

Oikawa x reader - Oikawa Tooru Goes Both Ways

⚠️warnings - reader is mistaken and referred to unintentionally as a girl. I assure you, this is a male reader. Femboy reader, if that triggers you.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Oikawa couldn’t help but stare as a...rather cute girl stepped into the gym.

“Oi! Shittykawa! Focus!” Iwaizumi was about to hurl a volleyball at Oikawa’s head when he caught sight of where he was staring. He looked from the newcomer, back to Oikawa’s eyes tracing their form up and down.

“Iwa-chan...” Oikawa held his breath as he pointed subtly. “Who is that?”

Iwaizumi looked over back to the intruder. Sure enough, some girl with (h/c) styled hair stood at the foot of the door awkwardly. They weren’t sporting the school uniform, instead wearing a skirt with a cafe apron tied around their waist. Oikawa recognized the cute logo on the somewhat dirty apron as the coffee shop he’d visit on days he wasn’t particularly busy.

All in all, this stranger was incredibly attractive.

Eventually, coach Irihata emerged from the storage closet, and motioned the stranger over. The stranger perked up, pulled out a slightly-wrinkled paper from their back, and timpered off into the office.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. “Iwa-chan...is this what I think it is? Are we fiiiiiinally getting a cute girl manager to manage our team?!”

He draped himself over Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Aaaaah~! I’m so happy~! And it’s such a cutie too!”

“Get off me, dumbass. You have like...millions of girls throwing their panties at you, literally all that look like her. And you go for the one who decides to join our club?”

Oikawa huffed. “What’s so wrong about that! She’s cute! And she looked so shy standing there...aaaah, I’m swooning just thinking about wrapping her up in my arms-!”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi bonked Oikawa on the head. “If you manage to get with her, then break her heart, or at the very least make her uncomfortable, she’ll have to see your annoying face all day at practice, and then she won’t wanna be manager anymore! Because she has to see you!”

Iwaizumi pinched at Oikawa’s scalp. “I want a cute girl manager and to have them actually stay! And who knows? We get brownie points if it’s not another one of your fangirls trying to get in your pants by joining the club!”

“Ow! Mean Iwa-chan, bad!”

“I’m not a damn Pokémon-!” Iwaizumi was about to kick Oikawa in the back, before letting himself simmer down and take a deep breath. He lowered his legs, and turned towards the office door. “...I’m gonna go look at that girl’s application and see what class she’s in. Maybe we can, I dunno, make her a welcome basket of fruit or some corny shit like that.”

“Let me come with you-!”

“No! You’ll just scare her away, and you have cleaning duty! All you need to do is take down the net, and I’ll meet you outside when I’m done. If you be good, I’ll tell you her name.”

Oikawa thought about it for a second.

“Deal.”

He disappeared to take down the net from the poles. Iwaizumi sighed, and walked towards the door. They were the only two left in the gym, as they were in charge of cleanup for the day, so no one else but him should be in the office. Well, minus the new girl and coach Irihata.

Iwaizumi slid open the door. “Yo.” He greeted. He looked around the room, only finding coach Irihata.

“...Didn’t someone come in here with you with an application form?”

Coach Irihata chuckled. “Oh, yeah,”

“He just wanted to drop in his member application before his part-time job made him go back to work.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“...he...?”

“Yeah, he wanted to join the club as a (Position name). He’s not confident about his jumping or spiking abilities, but he claims to be really dang good at digging and receives.”

The two looked at eachother in silence. Wasn’t she-well, he—wearing a skirt? Now that he thought about it, everything about him looked like...well...a him, minus the skirt. Iwaizumi dashed to the table and picked up the application resting there peacefully.

‘(L/n) (Y/n) - 2nd year, class 4’

‘Position - (Position name)’

Iwaizumi scanned the page. He wanted to doubt this was the ‘cute manager’ they laid their eyes on, but they even had a school photo clipped onto the corner of the paper. Sure enough, that was him. His eyes eventually landed on something printed on the middle of the page.

‘Gender - male’

That proved it. The ‘cute girl manager’ Oikawa was just fawning over turned out to be a guy. And their future teammate, no less. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh in Oikawa’s face.

“Is there something wrong, Iwaizumi-kun?”

“Pfft-no! N-no, sirrrrr....” Iwaizumi set the paper down and walked out the the room, doing his best to keep in his snickers.

Oikawa jogged up to him excitedly once he stepped out of the gym. “So? Did ya find out her name? Her class? Is she our manager?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, before letting his mouth clamp shut.

“Nah, coach said I couldn’t see it.”

He watched as Oikawa deflated, trudging his way over to the club room to change and go home. Iwaizumi did his best not to bust out laughing on the spot.

This should be fun.

——

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, you stalker.”

“But Iwa-chaaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Why not?! Practice ended early, and we could use some coffee! Come buy coffee with me!”

“You just wanna use me as an excuse to see that bo-that girl who came into our club yesterday, idiot! That’s stalking! You’re acting like your little fangirls!”

Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi prayed he didn’t catch him on his little slip-up. He turned around, walking off out of school gates. Oikawa dejectedly trailed behind him.

“I’m going home. Don’t bother me if it’s about that manager again—“

Just then, a text tone pinged from Iwaizumi’s pocket. He stopped mid-sentence, fishing out his phone and opening his messaging app.

‘Mom - no ones going to be home because we have to go out real quick. The house is locked, and you left your spare keys with me again. Go out and have fun with Tooru-kun before I come back!’

Iwaizumi deadpanned. Oikawa had his chin resting on his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin Iwaizumi didn’t even have to look at to know was there.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan. Listen to Mrs. Aina and hang out with Tooru-kun for a bit. We can go to the cafe and hang out like your she said, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi pushed past Oikawa bitterly. “Don’t... fuckin’... call my mom by her name... dumbass... stalker... Shittykawa...” he grumbled as he trudged his way in the direction to the cafe. Oikawa let out a small “Yay~!”

——

Hiding behind the big, laminated menus the cafe provided, Oikawa kept glancing over to the cashier-area to try and find (Y/n). Iwaizumi deadpanned, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly.

“You’re acting stupid.”

“I’m being sneaky.”

“You look more suspicious than if you were to act like yourself.”

“As if you would know!” Oikawa whisper-yelled to Iwaizumi, momentarily letting his menu fall flat. “I’m trying not to get caught, unlike one of us-!”

“Hello?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze. Oikawa rigidly turned to the voice, while Iwaizumi almost fell back in his seat.

There stood the boy—well, the ‘girl’, in his work apron, this time, up close. Oikawa could see the detail in his eyes, the way a few of his hairs fell onto his face and stuck because of the small layer of sweat on his forehead, even taking in the small kitty hair clip resting in his hair.

“Hu...huaai...” Oikawa breathed out. Iwaizumi bit his lip. If he started laughing now, Oikawa would tell his mom he was bullying him again.

“Hello! I was wondering if I could get you two anything to drink! No worries if you aren’t ready to order yet.”

His voice had a soft tamber to it, a warm, welcoming aura that fit the vibe of the cafe perfectly. Iwaizumi could see how Oikawa, and probably other people, could mistake him for a girl. Especially with the way he dressed and carried himself as evident to yesterday’s practice.

Iwaizumi tilted the menu infront of him up a bit. “I’ll get a small black coffee. Whabout you, Oikawa?”

When he got no response, other than the hum of acknowledgment from (Y/n), Iwaizumi looked up. Oikawa was staring dumbly at (Y/n) again, and seconds later (Y/n) was caught under his gaze. He stared back awkwardly, waiting for Oikawa to say something or at least order something, until he suddenly jolted up in pain.

Iwaizumi dug his heel deeper into Oikawa’s foot. “Say something, dumbass! Stop staring!” He hissed, covering his mouth from (Y/n) in petty attempts to mask their conversation.

“Ow! Ow! I’ll get a peppermint tea please-! Stop it!”

(Y/n) scribbled down Oikawa’s order, smiling patiently as he did. Iwaizumi removed his foot. There was a beat of silence, until Oikawa smoothly rested his chin on his hand.

“Soooo, (L/n) (Y/n)-chan, is it?” Oikawa said, as he peered at (Y/n’s) name tag. “Pretty masculine name for a cute girl like you~”

Iwaizumi choked on his spit. (Y/n) tilted his head to the side, looking up from his notepad to peer back at Oikawa.

“What...did you say?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I think (Y/n) is a cute name~”

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to die from laughter or embarrassment. He was going to pop a vein trying to keep in his cackles.

“Ah. It’s the clothes, isn’t it?” (Y/n) mused. He took a step back, looking at his rather-feminine clothing choices for the day. “I understand why. I get that a lot.”

“...What does your clothes have to do with your name?” It was Oikawa’s turn to sound confused. Iwaizumi let out a few haggard, stifled snickers at his dense expression. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“You...” He pointed at himself with his pen. “You do realize I’m a man, correct?”

Oikawa choked. His eyes widened as his smile cracked a bit. Iwaizumi had to hide his face in his jacket to prevent himself from bursting out into hackles. Oikawa gave a nervous smile.

“Aha...haha...funny joke..”

“I’m not joking, though...” (Y/n) smirked. He wouldn’t deny that seeing the faces of people flirting with him after he told them he had a dick was a guilty pleasure. “Want proof?”

(Y/n) grasped Oikawa’s wrist, tugging it forcefully, and moving his apron to the side. He brought it down closer to his groin until Oikawa sputtered and flailed on the table.

“No! I-I believe you! I-I can see it from here—I don’t need to touch it-!” Oikawa shrieked. Iwaizumi clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, already given up on keeping it in. He snorted loudly, choked on that snort, and erupted into a series of cough-laughs.

By the time Iwaizumi’s laugh turned into the kind where no noise came out-but it hurt in your stomach anyways—Oikawa was laying his head on the table, embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled along.

“You knew, Iwa-chan! You knew!” Oikawa hissed, holding his poor, abused hand. “You set me up for failure!”

“You did that to yourself.” Iwaizumi said between breaths. “He’s actually gonna start attending practice as a (position name) starting next week. We don’t have a manager after all.”

“And you got my hopes up for what?!” Oikawa cried out, making Iwaizumi snort again. (Y/n) raised his eyebrows.

“Manager?”

“Oikawa thought that when you came to drop your registration form in yesterday, that you were signing up to be a manager since he thought you were a girl. I saw your form though, so I knew but this guy here didn’t.”

Iwaizumi nudged at Oikawa, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You better be nice to him, though. He’s your new captain starting next week.”

“Ah! How fun! Having my new playboy captain flirt with me before I even join the club. ” (Y/n) mumbled, as he scribbled down something else in his notepad. Iwaizumi heckled when Oikawa whined with his head down.

He didn’t raise his head back up until a slip of paper was placed gently on top of his head. He heard a “I’ll go get your drink ready.” From (Y/n), before he looked up and noticed he was gone. He caught the slip of paper falling off his head as he sat up.

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi said lazily. Oikawa was staring giddily at the paper. He turned the paper around smugly, holding it up for Iwaizumi to read.

‘Call me. If you’re feeling fruity, that is. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx. -‘(Y/n)-chan’’

Iwaizumi stared at the neat handwriting, then back at Oikawa’s smug face.

“...Were you not just listening? He just tried to make you touch his dick? He’s a dude?”

“Eh. Cute girl, cute boy, he’s still cute~” Oikawa dreamily sighed as he watched (Y/n) make his tea behind the counter. “I’d still hit it till he breaks~”

“Pervert.”

“Says you.”

Oikawa earned a sharp thunk to the head.

——————

[loserrking]

je pense quе tu es très jolie (I think you are very pretty) — by Valen-tyne-ghost

Quackity x reader

Warnings/Tags : Reader is genderneutral, French, Reader is a bit mean- Quackity is a fucking simp, swearing, the word "pretty" is used in a genderneutral way

A/N : kinda based off the songs "google translate" and "Smitten" by Leanna firestone :]

12:00 AM

You heaved a sigh of relief as you put away the papers and notebooks scattered on your desk, you finally finished your French homework. You decided to rest on your bed, it was clear from the dark circles under your eyes that you were tired. You should take a nap, yeah.. maybe you should do that—

The familiar discord ping sound rang through your ears. Sure,you could just answer that later but the sound kept repeating again, and again, and again, like an annoying alarm clock in the morning when all you wanna do is SLEEP.

Quackity

Hey

Hey

Hey

Hey

Hey

Hey

[Username]

What?

Quackity

Hey [Nameeeee]

[Username]

Fuck off

Quackity

So mean... You should really be more nicer to ur best friend 🙄

[Username]

Oh, shut up-

I just finished homework and Im tired

Quackity

Oh right...

You took French classes

How's that going for you?

[Username]

Pain.

My teacher is an ass

He keeps giving us loads of homework

Pls save me my brain has melted

Quackity

Nah, suffer lmao

I Told you that you should've took Spanish classes instead

[Username]

Just cuz ur Spanish?

Quackity

Duh

[Username]

I'm going to bed

Quackity

wait

[Username]

Bye lol

Goodnight Quackity

Quackity

Wait

[Name]?

Heyyyy

I still have something to say!

Come backkk

Quackity

[name]

[name]

[Name]

Respóndeme

Heyyy

[NAMEEEEE]

Quackity huffed in frustration. He spammed you a few more times before opting to scroll on Twitter instead, maybe he should've said it earlier? Fuckin' idiot

1:00 AM

The boy continued to stare at his phone, his eyes squinting in concentration. What was he doing? Honestly, the author also has no idea. Maybe he was waiting for something to happen, perhaps he was waiting for you to text him back– speaking of you, what did Quackity think of you? Well for starters, he thought you were really attractive, and funny, and amazing, he thought your laugh was really cute and that your very presence could illuminate the darkest of rooms. To him, your smile would shine so bright in a way that it could rival the sun, and he thought the way you— yeah I think you get it, this boy is Smitten...

1:58 AM

"Fuck it"

Quackity quickly typed the words into Google translate and copied the French version...

....His finger hovered over the send button

The silence was loud... Seriously though, the ticking of the clock made the atmosphere feel even more tense

Tick tock tick tock tick tock......

1:59 AM

A minute has passed, his eyes started to feel sore with how long he was staring at his phone. He was tired... His eyelids felt heavy...

Blinking away the sleepiness, he continued to stare at his phone with his thumb in the same place as before....

2:00 AM

He slid his phone onto his desk as he pushed his chair backwards, forgetting that the chair did not have wheels... So yeah, he fell off his chair but that's not that important right now– His face felt like it was burning, his heartbeat was loudly thumping in his chest

He sent it.... He's still lying on the floor, by the way! .... He didn't expect a response since he thought that you were asleep by now— yeah, well he thought wrong....

It's 2AM and you're wide awake. Instead of actually trying to sleep, you decided to listen to music and make fake scenarios in your head.

The discord ping notified you that someone had texted you. You tapped on the notification banner on the top of your screen.

Quackity

je pense quе tu es très jolie I think you are very pretty

You read the sentence a few more times until it was engraved in your mind. You don't remember what the familiar French words meant, it's not that you don't listen to your French classes, it's just that it was 2 in the fucking morning and your brain wasn't working at the moment... You eventually recall what the text meant in your tired state. A blush had started to creep up to your face– The fact that Quackity, the guy that has annoyed you to no end ever since you met, took the time out of his day to try to call you pretty in a language he can't even speak...

[Username]

tu es joli aussi je suppose.. you're pretty too, I guess

And now you have two idiots inlove, quietly smiling and blushing to themselves at 2AM...

Taglist : @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @blooming-mushroom