#it makes more sense to me for some reason

[lologoinsolo]

Added after this one, Part 3, Part 4

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

You stammer at the man as he holds what looks to be a calico. His face looks worse for wear despite how handsome he is. Cut lip and cheek that look as though maybe the cause is from the one wiggling in his hands. “Sir, the uh,” you look down at your phone for the time. “The stores about to close.” You look from him to the kitten and then back to him.

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. Really, I am but I’ve no idea what I’m doing.” He rubs at the baby’s head and she nips right at his finger. He groans, “why are you so mean? You were all cuddly in my lap and now you’re being hissy.”

You laugh a little at his lament and rub your own face. “Alright,” you can’t very well leave him like this. You’re sure the kitten would be more than happy to chew on something better than the man’s finger. “Come on,” you motion for him to follow. You don’t bother to page for someone to cover the front. The store’s about to close in 2 minutes anyways. “I’ll get you started, sir.”

“Kyle,” he grins when you quirk a brow, “just Kyle, none of that ‘sir’ business or else I’ll feel far older than I actually am.” He rests his kitten against his chest when she starts wiggling even more. “Curious little bugger, found her shivering at my front door.” There’s a glint in his eye as he retells his findings, “she didn’t even notice me grabbing her till I picked her up and look what she did to my face.” He says with dramatic flare when he holds her up to his eye view. The kitten merely blinks at him and her paws prod his nose.

You pull a cart since you have a feeling he’ll need a lot of things. He doesn’t give off ‘I already have a cat’ energy. “Serves you right for spooking her.” You joke about his woes when he gives you a playful glare.

“You’re only siding with her because she didn’t mark up your pretty face.”

You cough at that and push the cart more quickly down the aisle. You can handle getting yelled and cussed at but god forbid a handsome man says you’re pretty. “So,” you manage to say when he gives you a dazzling smile. He caught up quickly to your step and looks neither winded or strained. Why are all the tall men getting kittens? You inwardly roll your eyes, “you said a friend told you to find me?”

His brow raises slightly and he maneuvers his kitten to be more in his arms. “Yeah,” he simply says, “says you know a thing or two about cats.”

“Did he..” you look a bit hopeful, “did he say if he’d come back to the store.” Picking up some cat toys and placing some cute orange cat shaped bowls in the cart. “He uh, he left in a hurry last I saw.” You give a quick reasoning so as not to feel as desperate as you sound. You still feel the phantom touch of his hand. You never got his name…

“Can’t really tell,” he shrugs and he plucks some crinkle toys and tosses them in the cart. He doesn’t seem to care about pricing either. “Man’s unreadable unless you tell him a stupid joke.” There’s a short chuckle and flash of a memory that goes through his eyes.

You deflate a little, it wouldn’t make sense to feel like this. You don’t know mafia guy anyways. “Ah, well. If you see him, tell him he needs to take his cat to the vet.” Kyle nods and he perks up when he sees the cat clothing.

“When you get older, rug, I’m gonna buy you one of these.” He points to a cut pirate costume as if the kitten understands him. “You’ll hate me for it but at least I can get a picture out of it, yeah?”

You smile at his enthusiasm, from what you seem cats have never been a fan of clothing… but then again the clothing here doesn’t look— “wait,” you jerk your head to him, “rug? As in,” you gesture to the kitten that’s starting to meow when he pulls her back down from his shoulders. She must’ve climbed up there when he was looking through the clothes. “The cat?” You blink once then twice when he shrugs once more.

“Not really a naming guy, plus,” he rubs along her ears, “she was shivering on my rug. Figured I’d just say that and be done with it.”

Better than garbage, you think. “Well…” biting on your lip, “that’s unique.” Trying to save face, you don’t want to be too judgmental.

He gives you a look and then snickers, “I’m just kidding, love.” He comes close and you freeze slightly till he plops his kitten down in your hands. “About the rug name at least. I really am shit with names. Johnny’s better at naming animals.” Placing his hand on his hip and you wonder if that’s mafia guy but then you think maybe not. “If you got an idea then I’m all ears.” He turns on his side and he rubs his chin in thought. He mutters something and then walks off to the litter aisle.

You hold her in your hands. “A name, huh?” Bailey was the only name you could think of but that one’s been taken already… “hm,” you rub her nose to the top of her head. She seems to enjoy that as she curls into your fingers. “Pretty girl, what should your name be?” Humming softly in thought and leaning against the cart when Kyle comes back with a tub of litter and a nice looking litter box. You hadn’t expected to see the nice flex of muscle from his arms but you’re certainly not gonna complain about the view. “I got a secret to share, Kyle.” You say as he comes within earshot

“Oh, yeah?” He smiles and places the litter box in the cart first and then the tub. “What’s that? Promise I won’t tell a soul.” He makes an X over his chest.

“I’m shit with names too.”

His shoulders jump and he lets out a laugh. “Really?” Rolling his eyes, “guess we’re both in a pickle. Might have to stick with rug for now.” He rubs a thumb over his kitten's little head. She nips a little at his finger but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pats the top of her head like one would a dog.

“I think she hates that idea.”

“Very opinionated this one,” he takes over the pushing of the cart and you lead him down to the cat food aisle. You check her teeth and you are pleasantly happy that she won’t need formula. “Now,” he turns side to side to check the kinds of food the store sells. “What does my girl need?”

You give him a thorough answer after having learned your lesson with your mystery man. Explaining what he should and shouldn’t do and placing a weeks worth of 3 different foods. You then also speak about how he’ll need to see a vet. You checked her for fleas and you are incredibly happy to tell him that she only had one but that it’s still good for him to get some flea drops. After you give him the runaround once more around the store, checking for items you know she won’t need but she absolutely needs a carrot cat scratcher. You finally take him to your register so he can pay. Your manager looks none too happy about a remaining customer but your manager has nothing to remark when Kyle looks right at him.

“Okay,” you finally say after bagging all his items and placing them in the cart. “Here’s your receipt,” you pass it to him and you give a little pet to his kitten. “Sweet girl when she wants to be.” He chuckles around you and pockets his receipt.

“Only when she wants to, that’s for sure.” He lets out a low whistle, “cost me a high bill but only the best for her.” He tucks her a little closer and gives you a kind look. “Thanks for staying late for me,” he looks like he wants to say more but hesitates. “I’ll see you around?”

You blink and then nod quickly, “I’m always here, Kyle. Gotta make money,” you laugh shortly and his lips pull back so that you can see just a peep of his pearly whites. He takes his leave, chugging along his cart to place it in his car. He mouths something to his kitten when she tries to get out of his hands. Probably a scolding with how he tuts a finger side to side in front of her face. She’s hearing none of it though from how her tail flicks back and forth. You wave him goodbye and he waves back right at you before he steps in to drive away. You hope he’ll come back to tell you her name once he’s figured it out. You wonder if mafia guy will come back too…

[nana-mizu-shiki]

[[Hehehe >:] Of course! Imma put the tags I used for the 2nd post I made below bc I had made plans and I wanna use them as reference lol. Also, I'm absolutely loving doing this, but I will only continue after someone else rb's, I'd rather have every other reblog be mine than every one in a row. Idk, just feels weird reblogging my own part of the story. Anyways, I hope you guys like this as much as I do :) .]]

[[ #tim drake #danny phantom #dc #fanfic #funny #batman #dpxdc #tims mild stalking aint that mild but its mild for him #i know i made it sound like tim cheated jazz in but he didnt. what he did was still very illegal though #i was going to put more but my wifis being weird and i had to rewrite that last part like 3 times #next would be danny having a flashback to him punching red robin and recognizing their Vibes(souls/core) #this IS all also happening in Metropolis too btw #he has no reason to be in Gotham #cafes are overused. ive only heard of the Danny Diner once #jazz is amazing #yes the fenton parents are dead #how? idk #why? bc i wanted Danny to be Vlads ward #tim is also going to be calling him Daniel until told otherwise #anyways #;> #im obsessed with this lol ]]

~~~~~~~~~~~◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇~~~~~~~~~~

Danny had been exploring the new city he was living in invisible, intangible, and flying-able, as one does, when he had spotted what was obviously a mugging.

Now, Danny wasn't flying about in his ghost form looking for trouble- well, actually, he was- but he wasn't doing so looking to fight those doing the trouble. He was making sure where he was was safe, making sure he and his sister didn't accidentally move directly in the middle of a dangerous gang's territory or something. (They didn't, this wasn't Gotham, (But it sure was close(literally)) but he still had to check, y'know)

So anyways, on his way back home he spotted a mugging, not much honestly, but he still felt bad just thinking about leaving the poor dude, clearly just some teen struggling as is, to the fate of possibly not eating tonight because some jerk took his budget.

....He is NOT projecting, sush it! Sure, not everything the Fentons made was edible and sometimes he or Jazz had to spend all their own saved money on occasion to not be poisoned but- Whatever!

Danny had flown about a block away before shifting back alive in some dark alley- surprisingly so for Metropolis- and then walked back casually back to where he knew it was happening, intending to help the teen via distraction.

However, when Danny had actually gotten the Thief's attention, somehow ending up cornering the guy while the teen ran, some short red figure had dropped in front of him and knocked the guy out swiftly, having shocked both the Thief and Danny thoroughly with his sudden appearance.

With the red figure turning around, Danny punched them before he could be attacked and stumbled to the entrance of the alley, more in the light with more room to run should the Red figure approach.

The Red one had stumbled back as well, more due to Danny's punch rather than his own violation. And Danny heard as he tripped over a few cans that had fallen out of nearby trash cans. Danny had watched the Red one rapidly as they recovered from the punch, and had come to a slowly dawning horror of realization as he recognized what they were wearing as a superhero suit. He didn't know which one, but it was definitely one of them.

The Red hero had looked up as Danny had finally realized what he had done and they had simply stared at each other for a while before...

Before Danny decided, once more, to just Book It.

He wasn't dealing with this bullshit, not today.

••••••••••♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧••••••••••

Danny blinked out of the memory as he stared at the boy by the door, holding out what must be more than at least 4 dozen roses in one bouquet and smiling sheepishly with a hand (not holding the bouquet) scratching his neck.

He was... the Wayne boy he had punched, like, months ago.

And also... that Red Robin hero he had run into, like, a few weeks ago.

Danny blinked once more at the flowers, looking around the diner, between the would-be-criminal and his apparently-secret-admirer, and once more at the flowers.

Yeah. He had absolutely no idea what was going on.

He didn't mind much though. The guy was pretty cute for someone he'd punched on multiple occasions.

....And for someone who was so clearly alive but had such Obsession that he had formed his own mini-core. The Obsession didn't even seem to be focused on one thing! Not that Danny can tell, really.

And. Huh. That's definitely something Danny didn't know was possible. Whatever, he was literally-technically prince of an entire realm that's the in-between of literally every universe in existence, this probably just makes him liminal in some other technical way. Liminal-Adjacent or something.

The silence almost stretches onto becoming awkward, and so Danny just blurts out his answer, not even really remembering the question.

"I… I mean, sure? Why... not? I mean, you seem cool, I guess."

Danny shrugged awkwardly, looking down at the passed-out would-be-thief as he began to flush, seeing out of the corner of his eye as the Wayne boy grinned like he gave him a million dollars (actually, bad analogy, he's like a billionaire so that's probably loose change to him, whatever, it's the principle of the thing).

"Great!" The boy exclaimed, skipping over and placing the roses and a note that he pulled from nowhere onto the counter Danny had hopped over.

"I know this place closes soon, so if you don't have anything planned already I'd love to take you out later today, my numbers on there if you want to fish this out more over text. I'll see you later Daniel!"

"Wha.… How the hell did I score some sickly pretty rich boy?" Danny muttered absently as he watched the other skip out the door grinning ear to ear.

Shaking himself out of his stupor once more now that his apparent soon-to-be-date left his store, Danny focused back on the passed out dude loitering on his floor.

"Hm. Now what do I do with you?"

Sorry, Rich Boy

If there was anything Danny hated more than anything, it was doing what Vlad wanted him to do. Especially when he'd done it thinking it was against the fruitloop's wishes and the man gave him that smirk that tells him Danny had played right into the fuckers hands.

So Danny had gotten good at sniffing out a scheme. And, honestly, he didn't need to do much sniffing here.

Vlad had invited him as a plus one to a Wayne (Yes, that Wayne. Brucie Goddamn Wayne.) Gala, meant to take place only a few days from now. Vlad must have suspected Danny would never agree, would have thought it was another attempt for Danny's loyalty where none of his friends could help. Unfortunately for Vlad, Danny was a spiteful fuck and he wouldn't let Vlad go to a Gala full of rich fools alone. Not when Vlad had previously admitted to how he'd gotten his fortune in the first place.

So, there Danny was, keeping an eye on Vlad. At a Wayne Gala. In Gotham, New Jersey. Fuck his half-life.

It was a horrible idea, really. The suit is stuffy, the room is stuffy, and the people are fucking stuffy. He hangs around the food for the most part, only because Vlad keeps coming back to it which makes keeping an eye on the guy somewhat easier. He admits coming was a good idea only when he sees Vlad making buddies with the Wayne troop themselves and that smirk is on his face. Well, fuck that.

He catalogs the group; not including Bruce Wayne there is a scowling child (immediately off the table, he’s not some fucko like Vlad okay), two teenage boys (one of them black and built like a small brick wall. The other a white boy, scrawny as hell, and looking a breeze away from passing out), two teenage girls (one a peppy blonde and the other a ravenette, off to the side laughing together), and a man (big).

Overall, if he had to pick who to go after to cause the most fuss, it’d be the kid. However, he has morals, so he sets his sights on the skinny white boy instead. He’s skinny, obviously, but upon a closer look has some muscle on him that makes Danny less guilty for his choice. Sorry, rich boy, but Danny has a godfather to piss off.

He sets down his drink, walks over, and decks the poor boy in the face. The look of horror on Vlad's face is well worth the absolute confusion coating the entire group.

And, just for the cherry on top, he turns to Brucie Wayne and the fruitloop, "Your Gala sucks and so does your city. Fuck this place, never bring me here ever again Vlad."

[hanakou-often]

Been in the fandom for years and this is how I sorta see things

[amutamika]

I have the headcanon that Mobei Jun is touch repulsed but also touched starved. Hear me out.

Demons don't really have emotional bonds (at least that's what we are taught, even though we see that there are exceptions, see Tianlang Jun for example). Mobei Jun is also one of these exceptions. As a kid he was practically glued to his uncle. Only to be betrayed by him as he tossed out little Mobei Jun into the human realm. This must have shattered something inside of Mobei Jun leading to his ongoing trust issues. And it makes sense because demons learn that even their own family can turn against them in a blink of an eye. This is the reason why he doesn't trust Shang Qinghua fully, even after more than a decade of them knowing each other. Therefore, only really starting to see him in a different light after Qinghua saved him in the final boss battle.

With his trust gone he also starts to feel touch repulsed. But also craving the touch of another, because in the end Mobei Jun has feelings and emotions. And he is deeply lonely.

And this is how I imagine it all play out with our two idiots:

And then he stumbles over Shang Qinghua. They are both young. And Shang Qinghua is so incredibly touchy. Right at their first meeting he clings to Mobei Jun's leg like his life depended on it (which it did). Mobei Jun hated it, but more so because it stirred up a longing deep inside of him.

And that's were the pining of these two idiots start. Mobei Jun man handles Shang Qinghua because he wants to touch that damn idiot, but doesn't know how he should do that in another way. He wants him close, that's why he follows him to An Ding Peak. But he doesn't get that feeling. Demons don't do relationships. Demons don't do love or anything else.

Over the years this dynamic goes on. Mobei Jun demanding Shang Qinghua's attention whenever he starves for a warm touch, but pushes him away whenever he gets repulsed by it. But over time he feels less repulsed by his human servant.

And then the day comes where Shang Qinghua explains that acting pathetic is the way to a 'straight man's heart'. And it clicks. The reason why he wants to touch Shang Qinghua is because he likes him. But at that time his violent outburst have lead to Shang Qinghua flinching whenever he tries to touch him. And so he slowly but surely stops hitting and throwing Shang Qinghua and instead pat his head, sit closely next to him, doesn't really let him go out alone. Until Shang Qinghua stops flinching and becomes used to Mobei Jun.

So used to it that Shang Qinghua thinks that it is totally normal that Mobei Jun pulls him close whenever he feels like it, snuggles up to him, wraps him in his coat and demands his presence at every waking hour... And also sleeping hour because Mobei Jun decided at some point that it is easier if his servant is always by his side leading to Shang Qinghua sleeping at first in the same room as his king and slowly moving to the soft bed with the big cushions.

Mind you, Mobei Jun thinks they are dating. Shang Qinghua thinks it is just a thing they do (but wishes he could just press his face into Mobei Jun's chest). Mobei Jun moves slowly but surely in his endeavor to get closer to Shang Qinghua. Until the day comes where Shang Qinghua finds out that Mobei Jun thinks they are in a relationship (post about that here).

After which they are basically glued together. Shang Qinghua works in the same room as Mobei Jun. When MBJ leaves the room, SQH just takes his documents with him and follows his boyfriend. And on days where the king has to work overtime, Shang Qinghua sits close to Mobei Jun or in his lap reading. Sometimes even falling asleep right there. Meanwhile, whenever Mobei Jun catches his boyfriend reading on the couch or the bed he plops down, resting his head in Shang Qinghua's lap, demanding head scratches.

Mobei Jun is still touch repulsed when it comes to others. But there is one touch that he needs. And it is the warm touch of his dumb, idiotic, human husband <3

[tanddiscord]

I do not actually agree with this.

On some level, sure, but also... I had real trouble understanding social hierarchy, and in fact, where I recognised it, I was fairly obedient to it. It's just that hierarchy is actually really complex. Its not just "person a is above person b, who is above person c" but "Person a and b both have roles and positions of power, and while a generally is considered above b in the hierarchy, in many situations, b will effectively outrank a, (a classic example of this is an article i read once, on norse medieval law, where the wife was generally considered secondary to the husband, but where the wife was the absolute authority for anything to do with the house, and if she told the husband to go sleep in the barn, there was fuck all he could do about it. Now how accurate that article in particular was, is unclear to me, but those sorts of relations are EVERYWHERE, and many authistic people struggle to filter out those neuances, and ends up perceiving it all as noise ("if a is in charge sometimes and b sometimes, then is no one in charge?" is the sort of thinking you end can up with)) I did not understand sarcasm as a kid, at all. It took years of active training to learn it. Now I love it. My father still cannot engage with jokes based on 'lies'. A joke like "what do you call a pile of cats? A meow-tain!" just gets him to go "Actually a group of cats is called a clowder, it comes from the same root as 'clutter' and-", and it can take him for someone to say "dad, its just a joke" for him to go "oh, right, yes, sorry." Not understanding some forms of humour does not mean not having a sense of humour though, my dad loves comedy shows. Some autistic people absolutely are rude. Horribly so. And even those of us that aren't, generally do have vocational moments where, yes, we are. A momentary lack of ability to connect the social dots, leads to rude questions, rude statements, rude observations. This is not a 'actually autistic people are angels who can't lie, you just hate the truth!' thing, its a 'sometimes the brain misfires, and does not realise why something would be rude or hurtful, and they cause emotional harm to others for no good reason' thing. Meltdowns, while never about 'nothing', are not indicators that the people around them are bad people. Are you suggesting that the parents of any autistic child who has a meltdown, due to a problem they are unable to communicate, or overstimulation, or under-stimulation, or any other number of things, are bad people because they did not perfectly handle a person whom it is exceptionally hard to handle? There are people with several doctorates, specialising in this specific part of autism, and even they could not possibly prevent every meltdown if a child in their care had certain problems. There are countless reasons for why someone has a meltdown, and many of them don't make sense, just have to be learned and adapted to, especially with those unable to communicate the problems for themselves. Fuck off with this 'autistic people are perfect actually' bullshit. We're humans. Nothing less, sure, but also nothing MORE, and honestly, insinuating we're more, is MORE infantilising and patronising than the morons that dismiss us for being "retards". "Look, just because Maurice doesn't get your sarcasm jokes doesn't mean he doesn't get humour at all. Try puns, he loves those." is a billion times better a response than. "Maurice is a perfect gem! If he doesn't laugh at your jokes, it's because you suck! Maurice is the god-arbiter of all humour!" Like, what even is that? Come on. If your response to bigorty is just as polarised and factless as the bigotry, and also defines an entire group as being 'this exact way, actually'... guess what, you're also a bigot, you just hide behind "But my bigotry says you're one of the good ones!". Check yourself. Might have ended up a bit harsh here, but also fuck off anyway. I am tired of seeing this sort of stuff all the time.

One of my favourite parts about autistic people is how you can use other peoples' reflections of them like an echolocation bullshit detector. Like they personally do not need to do shit for this to work, they just passively emit their own autistic vibe that bounces off every surface around them, and you can assess another person's level of self-awareness by how they reflect it back.

"Autistic people do not understand social hierarchy" nope, they understand you're supposed to be an authority here, but they won't politely pretend to respect you if they think you're incompetent.

"Autistic people do not understand humour" nope, they just don't politely pretend to laugh to humour you, and you are simply not funny.

"Autistic people are rude" nope, they just don't think it's polite to lie to you, and don't care about trying to tell you what they think you want to hear instead of telling you what they think.

"Autistic people sometimes have emotional meltdowns for absolutely no reason" nope, you're just insufferable to be around and the person with the lowest tolerance of your shit is simply the canary in the coal mine who breaks first.

[roc-haze]

Best Part | WillNE

In which Will and Y/N are friends, but should be more.

——

New messages on WhatsApp

Ugly Stepsisters

George: @Y/N I’d finish up early if I were you… Will’s shouting the next round

Y/N: Aren’t you guys filming? He’s probably getting his shout in while it’s tax deductible 🤭

Becky: The cameras have been off for a while. He must be feeling charitable

George: Funny that. He was about to throw a tantrum before I told him wifey was tagging along 🧐

Becky: I thought wifey was working late tonight

George: Yeah she can’t say no to a free drink though

Y/N: Tell Will to get my pint ready. ETA 10 mins 🫡

There were perks to having a full time job. Financial stability, career development, a valid reason to say no to going on your mate’s podcasts. However, there were also disadvantages - one being having to sit in an office all day while said mates drink their way through London.

Y/N had been working with a corporate insurance company for a few years now, having moved to London for a secondment that developed into a full time role. She had been introduced to the wider UK YouTuber group through George, who was a prospective client when The Useless Hotline began to take on employees. They had clicked instantly, and she had found herself spending most of her free time with Clarkey and Becky. While the two friends brought a sense of adventure and excitement to her life, Y/N was a breath of fresh air - a reminder that there’s more to life than an upload schedule.

“Y/N!” Arthur Hill had spotted her as soon as she walked through the door, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy you’re here, Will thought you may’ve been working late”.

“I was planning on it, but I heard Will was shouting. I had to see it for myself.” She grinned as Arthur laughed, directing her to the table occupied by the group.

Y/N was met with a loud cheer, each of her friends taking turns to greet her.

“I was starting to think you’d never return from war,” Becky wrapped her arms around her friend. “I’ve been waiting for you to help me drink these fellas under the table.”

The two girls shared a giggle before being enveloped in a hug by their tall, brunette male counterpart.

“This is my second favourite kind of threesome” George sighed.

“I’m assuming the first involves Chris and Hill.” Y/N laughed lightheartedly.

“You know me so well.” George had grinned in response.

Y/N could feel a pair of eyes on her, cheeks heating up as she looked up to see Will making strides across the pub, glass of red in hand.

“We better let mummy go now Becky, can’t have daddy getting jealous.” George smirked at Y/N, both himself and Becky stifling a laugh as Y/N jabbed him in the side.

Her two friends disappeared behind her as Will approached, knowing looks on their faces.

“Hi gorgeous,” Will wrapped his free arm around her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I know we typically do pints but they finally restocked your favourite red.”

Y/N resisted the urge to coo at the grown man in front of her.

“Come tell me about your day.” He grabbed her hand, leading her through the crowd of friends.

Y/N had spent plenty of time with the extended group - even once had a bit of a secret summer romance with Lux.

They were sat in the car in his driveway when he had ended things.

“I think Will knows we’re seeing each other, Y/N. I can’t bear to see that look on his face anymore.”

“What look?” she had asked.

“The you’re-my-mate-and-dating-the-woman-I-like look.” Cal had sighed, the frustration spreading over his face.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks, Cal. Pretty sure he’s dating people too.”

“If you really didn’t care, our friends would know we’re dating,” he said, head resting against the window. “I would love for this to work out, but I just don’t see it happening.”

Cal had conceded, no longer wanting to fight for her attention. There was just something about Will.

Unlike George and Becky, it had taken some time for his friendship with Y/N to blossom. It had taken many Thursday trivia nights at their local, but they eventually became inseparable. The two had slowly pulled away from big nights out, preferring to spend their Saturday evenings watching films and playing board games. Having escaped a hangover, they would often stretch their hangouts into Sunday morning for a quiet coffee run and visit to the local market. But lately, tension had begun to build - and it seemed like everyone had noticed. Except for Y/N.

Though she would never really admit it, Y/N had felt the shift in their dynamic. She was hyper aware of the way Will kept his hand on her back as they walked through the crowded markets. She would try desperately to suppress the dull ache in her chest when he would suggest heading home after a film night. It’s too late to drive home, Will. She’d be scarily still when he’d sleepily throw his arm across her torso, terrified to wake him as he lie next to her. Okay Y/N, I’ll stay.

Will had noticed the tension. He was just waiting around for Y/N to catch up. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She stopped women on the street to compliment a smile, a hairdo, or the coat they were wearing. On the occasions she hung out with his production team, she had made a point to take an interest in their life outside of work. She would text Mikey various tiktoks, look through Ieuan’s film and help him choose the right stills. She was the missing piece of the puzzle… yet had no clue.

Y/N slid into the booth next to Will, the other half occupied by Chip and Sabina.

“I’ve been hanging out for a wine night,” Sabina reached across the table, gently squeezing her friend’s hand. “We’ve got so much shit to talk. I’ve been keeping notes for you.”

“Sab, give me a time and I’m there!” Y/N had opened her calendar, rattling off free days to the brunette across the table. Before long, the couple were off to the bar, leaving Y/N and Will sitting by themselves.

They settled into routine. She shared her day - her boss had copied her in on a million different emails, she spent the whole day in meetings and plastering on a smile - while Will listened attentively. That sounds shite. You should eat, you’ll feel better.

“I think my social battery is starting to go.” The thought of staying out late made her grimace.

“Let’s go home. Get a shitty takeaway and watch an even shittier film.” Will was stood, extending his hand for her to grab. They walk through the pub, embracing their friends goodbye and promising a late night over the weekend.

“She’s just tired, mate. Thought it’s time to head home.” Will stood talking to George, sympathetic smile spread across his features.

“And she needs you to tuck her in? Good friend you are, Lenney.” George smirked, watching a red flush make its way up to Will’s ears.

———

15 minutes later, they were stood outside her apartment fumbling with the keys.

She had entrusted Will to organise dinner, throwing herself onto the couch with no plans to leave it anytime soon. Will sat on her right, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder.

“You know Y/N, this is my favourite part of these group events.” He looked down at her, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear.

She met his gaze. “I love catching up with everyone, but I feel like I wait around the whole day to come home to you.”

“You make it sound romantic.” She laughed, but with no real humour behind it. Just trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“It could be. If you want that.” Will’s eyes searched her face for any sort of requited feeling.

She swallowed hard, adjusting her position on the couch to face him.

Her phone fell into Will’s lap as she gently brushed her hand over the top of his. “I do. Want that, I mean.”

Will moved to intertwine their hands, a loud chime coming from Y/N’s phone. He looked down, seeing a familiar name adorn the screen.

Cal: Can we talk? I miss you.

[moonlight-waning]

There's a push-pull of culpability. It's all a cause-and-effect chain that ends with two blighted gods running rampant in the world.

I don't have any particular attachment to the egg. I love him for his good-evil ambiguity, so I'm not attempting to 'woobify' or gentle him in any way, because I prefer my anti-heroes a little evil. He's more fun when he's a lying sack of shit.

I do think there are some unknowns that we could factor in:

Solas's plan- Does he have one? Does it, in fact, minimize the damage? There's at least one occasion when he tells Rook that he can't wait for them to see the world as it was, which-- to me-- says that Solas intends for Rook to survive whatever is coming next. It stands to reason that he also expects -most- (not all) people to also survive, but we don't know what his expected casualty count is and we don't know what he means when he invites us to see his better world. Would it be better? Would we be as we are? Would we be something else? We don't know what his vision was, because he abjectly refuses to include us in it. There's a non-zero chance that his plan would be better than--

Rook's intervention- Rook interrupts the ritual, throwing the situation into chaos, which directly results-- no matter which details we choose to fixate on-- in the escape of Ghilan'nail and Elgar'nan from their prison. And I do think Rook would blame themself for that. In the weeks/months that follow, the South is basically overrun with Blight to the point where even the Inquisitor's letters become a little grim. They're beating it back by the skin of their teeth, which means that the destruction is likely catastrophic with an incomprehensible loss of life. Fereldon and Orlais? Probably irreparably changed forever of not gone completely. Minrathous or Treviso? No matter which one you choose to save, one of them is also catastrophically altered forever... twice, if you choose to save Treviso. The magisterium is largely destroyed (lol, good tho?) and/or you have to slowly murder a host of familiar NPCs, one of whom survived the inquisition just to end up blighted by the results of Rook's inaction. We don't know what Solas's future would have looked like, so it's easy to rely on the speculative foreshadowing of a man who is a self-proclaimed unreliable narrator. Varric himself tells you in Inquisition that he's prone to exaggerating the truth for the sake of the story. "Demons will overrun the world and kill everyone!" But we don't know what Solas's future would have looked like, so it's easy to paint Rook as the hero and Solas as the villain and call it a day because obviously, Rook never would have had to do what they did if Solas hadn't been doing the ritual. Let us, for a moment, hop on over to a Crow rook returning to a Blighted Treviso where Viago castigates them, telling them to 'stop and think' because they 'always think of something.' In the moment of the ritual, there is no time to stop and think. Rook acts quickly and it is, quite possibly, the wrong choice, but it's the choice they make, so they have to live with it. And whether it was Varric's dwarven blood or the crash-landing of the ritual site or Solas's broken concentration or all of those things put together, they all hopped on this train where one event led to another event, which led to the near-end of the world. And whether Rook is the sole culpable party or not, they still have to fix it. They have to put back together a thing they helped break. In the end, we don't know that what happened was less catastrophic than what could have happened if they'd just let Solas complete the ritual. We only have half the information because the egg is an idiot who refuses to explain himself, but I don't pin either of them as the villain in a classic sense. I think they're just people doing what they think is right. It's history that will tell them who they were.

Just to check we are in agreement that the ritual went wrong because Solas stabbed Varric and not because Rook dropped a statue on him right?? We all saw that everything was "fine" until he did that right???? That the dagger was made to bond with ancient elven blood so it went haywire with Varric's and that's why the tear exploded right??????? We did notice that every time the fade opened in this game was because of the dagger getting in contact with blood RIGHT??

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Why Sky Wears Baggy Clothes: A Dissertation into Skyloftian Boner Culture and Outfitting Practices

So. Remember the infamous dick post? I have more thoughts, specifically concerning Sky's FAT COCK and how Skyloftian's specifically evolved greater vascular and hemoglobin systems in response to life in high altitudes. Prepare yourselves.

In my last piece, I calculated Skyloft's altitude of roughly 7,544.4 feet and covered how certain systems were affected to adapt to the climate, which eventually turned into a rant about Sky's dick, but now, I present to you: the reason Sky wears baggy clothes is to hide his altitude-induced, iron-man erections.

But first, let's explore the clothes themselves. Due to its high altitude, Skyloft is cold. Google AI has informed me that wind speed typically fluctuates, assuming the altitude is within the range of 6,000 to 8,000 feet, between 12 to 23 mph. On the Beaufort Scale, a chart used to estimate wind speed based on visual appearances, 23 mph is considered a "Fresh Breeze", and hardly a whisper to anyone from the Midwest. With this in mind, the standard temperature (excluding wind chill) of an area with a similar altitude to Skyloft is roughly 34°F or 1°C, which explains the multiple layers typically worn by many in-game Skyward Sword characters. Using both of these values and an internet wind chill calculator, we can conclude that the average temperature of Skyloft (assuming the wind speed is a comfortable 16 mph) is 24°F or -4°C, with a calculated range of 22°F or -5.6°C (23 mph, 34°F) to 25°F or -3.9°C (12 mph, 34°F).

With a wind-chilled air temperature of 24°F, Skyloft's layered, loose-fitting clothing standards make perfect sense, seeing as loose clothes are considered advantageous during cold weather because the small gaps between skin and fabric create pockets of space for body heat to gather, creating a pseudo-barrier against the elements.

Now, onto Sky's particular outfit. Based on this post by Jojo herself, Sky wears approximately four full upper-body layers (white, olive-khaki, chainmail, and mint tunic), one midsection layer (red sash), one lower-body layer (brown-green?? pants), and his embroidered sailcloth; he is prepared-prepared for chilly temperatures. As well as being a wonderfully adjacent nod to modern-day Tibetan culture, these clothes are perfect for conserving heat, and, concurrently, his life. 'But Fyre, we want the iron man dick-canons!' you may wail, but I'm not finished. There's quite a bit of debate in the skydiving community about whether tight or loose-fitting clothes are better, but many users state that loose-fitting clothes have the advantage of drag. But why is this good? In skydiving, and many of the Zelda games as a whole, control is essential; it's what allows us to feel safe, and thus allows for more logical, calm thinking due to adrenaline and cortisol (stress hormones) reduction. By increasing the user's surface area, loose-fitting clothes create drag, which, in physics, leads to better midair control during free-fall. Compared to Skyward Sword, where free-falling is as common a game mechanic as swinging a sword around, specialized aerodynamic control via clothing is a crucial mechanism that the Skylofians would absolutely take advantage of, considering that many of them regular jump from the sky and ride giant pelican-bird-creatures. In addition, due to his evolutionarily enhanced circulatory and vascular system, Sky himself is more than prepared to handle any and all endocrine stressors due to falling, and his specific outfit design only backs the theory that the residents of Skyloft are not only equipped to handle life in the sky on an evolutionary level, but from a cultural and biological level as well.

Okay. That was a lot, so I'm going to reintroduce some scholarly degeneracy at its finest: the concept of Sky's iron-man erections. Keeping with the vein of Skyloftian's specifically designing their clothes to be advantageous in every sense of the word, it isn't too far-fetched that they would make a point to account for any and all bodily changes that may occur during free-fall, or simply life on a floating rock, which absolutely includes altitude-induced erections. Confused? Let me explain.

In the dick-canon post, I largely referenced the concept of "airplane boners" as a defining factor for why Sky is HUNG, because it has been scientifically proven that abrupt changes in pressure affect vascular expansion and contraction, which absolutely extends to the pelvic region, and, thus, shifting erective status of the penis. With this in mind, it can be inferred that a race of people with the same evolutionary traits would have also evolved culturally to deal with this conundrum, which perfectly explains the bagginess of Sky's, and every other resident of Skyloft's, outfit choices. For example, the looseness of his pants is likely to be a cleverly-disguised ploy to hide what is by all definitions a biological predicament shared by all members of the Hylian species. It's in the same vein as modern-day menstrual cycles. Oh no, you got your period? Just slap a pad on it! Except the pad is baggy pants to hide an erection you can't control because flying is your way of life. Apply this to Sky and you've got a good idea of why his outfit is the way it is.

But that's not all! In addition to concealing any potential erections, Skyloftian clothing is also specifically designed to protect against the elements, which, you guessed it, extends to male and female reproduction organs. Whether through the use of thick, temperature-impenetrable cloth, specific (down-low) enchantments, or specialized padding, it is almost undeniable that a society as developed as the Skyloftians would have a fail-safe method to preserve both their lives and modesty through practical outfit stylizations.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: iron-man erections and what the fuck that refers to. I'm sure some of you are getting sick of the words 'vascular capacity' and 'erection of the penile region', but I promise you, this is where the magic happens. So. Sky is basically evolutionarily-predetermined to be hung. He has excellent hemoglobin and vascular system capacity, which would absolutely affect not only his body as a whole, but sexual functions as well, specifically in the fact that his erections are indestructible. Due to a combination of evolution, age, and gender, it's incredibly easy for him to become aroused, and, concurrently, incredibly difficult to 'take care' of his arousal in the same manner as the typical, non-evolutionized male would. That flagpole is raised and it is NOT coming down. This begs the question: how does he deal with this conundrum, specifically after some type of altitude-based activity, and what cultural practices are permitted in this context? Are all Skyloftian's serial masturbators or are they simply incredible at restraining themselves, which could act as a nod to Sky's typically unbothered attitude? In concurrence, if masturbation is socially acceptable, how does Sky find all that time to jack off? Does the rest of the chain know, or are they oblivious to his predicaments?!

In short, Skyloftian fashion and societal modesty culture is heavily influenced by the hilariously, yet closely related Skyloftian boner culture, in both outfit practicality and social norms, which is very likely to explain Sky's choice of clothes and, once again, why he is hung as FUCK. Thank you for witnessing my madness and Hylia bless.

Additional queries:

Does Priapism exist in Skyloftian society? Yes and no. The term 'priapism' refers the prolonged erection of the penis (4+ hours), often without any sexual stimulation, which cements it as a fairly common medical condition for humans. However, due to their unique vascular biology, it is unlikely that this condition would be viewed at the severity it is in modern-day humans, which begs the question: is it even an issue at all? Increased circulatory and vascular capabilities indicate a greater blood flow, whereas priapism is the persistent lack of appropriate blood flow, meaning that, due to their biology, priapism may very well be an indicator of old age in the same manner loss of vision or a general slowing down is for humans. On the other hand, if it were to possess the same significance as it does with modern-day humans, what

@skylover69 come feed bestie

[softshuji]

𝟐𝟑:𝟎𝟕𝐏𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: A Bit of Me (and a bit of You)

summary: the one where hanma proves he knows you better than you know yourself, and all the reasons he loves you. A bit of a special one this time for my baby <3

cw: fem!reader, pregnancy mentions, pet names (princess, doll, sweetheart, baby, pretty girl) very vague suggestiveness, both shuji and reader are very in love, it's very sweet and soft actually, a little self indulgent, but overall really fluffy and cute. Reblogs appreciated!

Hanma is uncharacteristically quiet tonight in a way he never usually is. 

You put it down to tiredness and you know it’s been a long day of work and other things so you don’t mention that he’s usually more talkative when you go out together. Playful, quick to laugh, quick to make you laugh, a grin inlaying every conversation, the kind of brightness that makes you lean on him, that convinces you again and again that he is the sun.

But not tonight it seems. 

And you’re aware you’re filling the space, filling the conversation by yourself, the occasional hum and word of assent that tells you he’s listening but you sense a change somehow, a frost blossoming from his skin as you make the drive home and he lifts you from the car when you yawn. Wordlessly, a second nature.

‘Mhmm, it was good wasn’t it?’ you say, curled against the crook of Hanma’s neck as he gently places you down on the bedspread.

He bends, all 6’4 of him, hunched over now with a hand on your ankle and the other undoing the straps of your heels as he pulls them from your feet, a soft and reassuring massage of the fine bones and up along your calf because he knows you get cramps in them when you wear heels but you had insisted anyway for the sake of the day and he hasn’t the heart to chastise you when you put in so much, for him.

He hums, lifts your leg with a kiss to your knee, warm lips against your skin just shy of the hem of your red dress and looks up at you from there, the moonlight through the gap in curtain glittering in his eyes, a chilled white that turns the gold flecked in his pupils to a sunflower yellow seeping with a cerulean hue. 

Breathtakingly beautiful, the curls falling over his forehead kissing just shy of his high and proud nose, the sloped and sharp cheekbones that you run your fingers over now as they dance over his cheek. It would be easy. To stay here forever, the kind of beauty, the kind of danger that would have you willingly placing your one life in his big and self assured hands, that would trust he knew what to do with it, the kind you wish you could commit to memory beyond life and death too.

‘I liked it. I’m glad we went there, it was worth waiting on the reservations for I think,’ you say, a yawn hidden again behind your hand and he hums once more, stands to move to the bathroom to fill the water for you as you trail behind him, the red dress now in a heap and stripped down to your panties and his own shirt you’ve found on the end of the bed, the end of it nudging at your thighs as you shiver under the bathroom light. 

He hasn’t taken his suit off yet, and you think there’s something serene in how he bends over the bath to test the water for you, still in the white shirt and striped grey dress pants, a brown leather belt that matches the watch on his wrist, a gold detail that catches the bathroom light. You watch from the door like that, his broad back to you as he pours the muscle soak in the tub and then moves a hand through the hot water, bubbles forming along the clear surface as he splashes a dash of colder water from the taps.

‘I think it’s warm enough but I can add some more cold water if you need it,’ he says. ‘Come on, in you get Sweetheart.’

You step into the bathroom, fluffy slippers left in the doorway. ‘You’re not getting in with me?’

‘Hm? No, not this time Princess.’ 

You hum in assent and he lifts his shirt from you, your arms over your head and a kiss to your temple that he sneaks in before you step out of your panties and into the bath, him in your periphery tossing the clothes into the laundry hamper and your red dress in a separate basket all together. It doesn’t strike you as odd, this distance. You let him be, warmth waiting with your hands out to touch as you brush them against his, pinky locking around his for the briefest of moments in a wordless acknowledgement before your toes touch the steam.

You sigh, audibly as the water works over your skin, your neck leaning on the bathtub and legs unfurling on it’s floor. You look up then, at the height of him crouching down to sit on the edge of the bathtub with you, his shirt sleeves now rolled to the elbow and a few buttons undone and you think of all you could do, would do, have done with him. Of how he feels like this- so close- so big and imposing and almost kneeling at your feet just to be near you and something inside you warms, bursts open with light, a glittery love curling along your spine when the shadow of the light fixture blossoms around his hair, a yellowy buttery halo for your angel, for your reaper and hero who taught you what love was. Even if he doesn’t know, even if it was unintentional.

And you think nothing of this uncharacteristic distance, this coldness that slams against his warmth. You don’t imagine it means anything about you because you trust him more than assuming he’d change about you so easily, and you like- at the end of it all- to have him here, just close to you, within earshot, within words, to touch his hand as he runs it through the water absently, soap suds clinging to his fingers and skin as he skims just shy of you.

‘Baby?’ You say now, a small lapse in conversation later, his hand halted in the water as he runs it to and fro, avoiding your eyes somehow, as he watches your thighs move underneath.

‘Hm? What is it, Pretty Girl?’ His finger moves gently over your knee pulled up to the sides of the tub now, water disappearing down the crease of your skin. 

And sometimes, like now, when he can’t look at you right, when you’re almost too dreamlike to be real and he can smell the scent of your perfume still on the air, warm steam that seems to curve around the bathroom with your name on it, and bites his lip with worry, with fury that he can only have this one life to watch you bath and sit on the end of the tub and separate your laundry and massage your aching legs and it feels too-hypocritically maybe- unfair that it’s so limited, that he can’t keep you beyond this one life, that conquering death is in name only for him. 

You hum, an edge of anxiousness to the end of your voice still even as you attempt to hold it back. ‘You’ve been a little quiet since the restaurant today. Is everything ok?’ And then, because you can’t help it and he loves you for it, because it never means anything more than what it is to him. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong did I?’

He chuckles, an anxiety undulating the deep and raspy baritone of his now sleep-ridden voice, a confidence he doesn’t feel but likes to pretend he does. For you. ‘Mhm no Princess, you didn’t do anything.’

Then. A pause, a beat like a butterfly flapping its wings. ‘Actually…I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.’ 

Ice corrugates in your veins and you shiver in the hot water, your nerves alert and tense as you nod, slowly, drinking him in as he levels his eyes with yours.

He chews up the words, tastes them and tests them out, tongue heavy and leaden in his mouth, a thick anxiety coating his teeth as he reaches a hand out to your thigh, a crutch to hold for the both of you. 

‘When was…,’ he starts. ‘When was the last time you got your period Doll?’

You freeze, palpable tension simmering in your stomach, heat flushing unbidden across your cheeks that has nothing to do with the water or steam.

‘I…’ You bite your cheek, confusion crunching your brows together in that cute way he loves, lips curling in thought. ‘I’m not sure, a few weeks maybe. It comes late often so I don’t take as much notice of it as I should. I think it was due yesterday though.'

‘Right….’ 

You lean forward, take a hand of his between your own from where it rests against your wet knee. ‘Why are you asking this Baby?’

Like that is how it comes, how the days events unfurl and his voice is low and swelling with fear, a soft and barely perceptible whisper almost lost under the swish of the water around you. ‘You ate a whole cake for dinner today. And that’s good, it’s great. But you didn’t eat any of the sushi for lunch and you haven’t touched the brioche we drive to get in days. You seem more tired recently and said you’ve been feeling sick in the morning a lot and that you’ve been having a nap almost every day after lunch.’ 

His eyes flick to yours and you’re not sure which of you looks more fearful as the realisation seeps into your spine. 

‘Shuji…’ you breathe, whisper against the lump in your throat. ‘What are you saying exactly?’

‘I don’t want to freak you out.’ He takes your hand in his, sin and punishment now folding over your much smaller fingers as he brings it to his lips to kiss. Reverently, half closing his eyes in adoration as his breath tickles your skin. ‘So I think, maybe you should do a test, just so we can be sure.’’

Your eyes widen, and he bends forward on instinct, just to hold you, just to press his lips to your forehead as your lips crumple, a hand around the back of your head to keep you close as it dawns on you, the gravity of it, the implication.

‘Shuji I- I- Oh God-’ You put a wet hand around his back, your lips to his shirt as the water dribbles down the fabric and shaking despite yourself, with all the fear and wonderment now thrumming in your veins.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay, easy Doll, relax for me,’ he soothes, rubbing a big and reassuring hand over your back, up and down as your breathing evens out. ‘It might be nothing at all, and if it is, we’ll figure it out, won’t we?’

You nod, fervently and he pulls back to look into your eyes, tilt your chin up and press his lips to yours, softly, hesitantly, humming against your mouth as you chase him, tongue shyly peeking out to caress his before he turns to grab your towel from the door and you reach out a hand to wrap a hand around the end of his shirt on instinct like it's anchoring you. 

He lifts you from the bath, your wet feet dripping onto the tiles and the carpet as he makes a beeline for the bed and sits you on the edge, rummaging through the clean laundry for your favourite shirt - the star wars one with the faded print- and your pajama pants- the fluffy ones that are cuffed at the hem. 

‘Are we going now? To the pharmacy?’ you say, hidden behind a yawn, your eyes now drooping and half lidded as he tosses the remainder of the dirty laundry in the basket.

‘Hm? I’m going to go now, and you’re going to rest right here.’

You frown, a shake of your head sticking your wet hair to your neck. ‘I’m going with you.’

He laughs, uncertainly, hesitantly, this new and exciting thing pumping adrenaline into his veins as he grabs his keys and wallet and shrugs his jacket back on. The same dinner jacket from earlier with a wine stain on the sleeve that you’d made as you laughed at a joke of his, elbow slipping and sending his wine glass tumbling and then dabbed with a tissue with an apology and he’d kissed you and tasted the pasta sauce on your lips.

‘You’re absolutely not Sweetheart, you’re staying here,’ he says now. ‘You’re tired, and you’ve just got out of the bath, I’ll be quick.’

‘No, I want to come. I’ll put clothes on, don't worry.’ Then, as an afterthought, shrugging a hoodie on and trainers with extra fluffy socks, a beanie pulled over your wet hair and tucked over your ears and he thinks you’re so cute just like this, reaching out to hold his sleeve, a tired but entirely affectionate look in your sleepy eyes and all of it just for him. ‘Please?’

He hasn’t the heart to deny you - when he knows you’re worried- not equally but more than he is, and your hands are shaking under your sleeves, licking your lips and fingering the cord of the hoodie in the way he knows you do when you’re anxious and trying not to show it. 

So he acquiesces with a nod and you grab onto his hand as you leave the apartment, close to his body, your arm brushing his and your fingers laced together, huddling close and against him just to feel his warmth, the sunlight that slips from his skin as effortlessly as breathing that you love to bask in just because it’s him. 

You don’t say much on the drive to the pharmacy, and you’re aware of how strange and new this is to the both of you- a middle of the night drive for a pregnancy test that you’re both afraid of despite your love for him, and his very obvious love for you. And it’s not that he won’t or wouldn’t be a great father. You know he would be. 

You wonder often if he knows he would be. Therein lies the core of it all. Because he apologises often, at least to himself, for what he thinks is the incompetence of himself as yours and he wishes you held it to him more often. Less forgiving perhaps, more needy than you pretend you are, more like you want to punish him for something and less like you love him despite his faults. He never tells you of course. To you, he’s your everything, your angel whose hands shaped you, fashioned you into who you are. Your hero who taught you what love was- the sun in all it’s glory. He could lead you to the end of the world and you’d thank him for taking you with him, would hold his hand and watch the world burn still clinging to his side. 

Often, he dreams of exactly that. He dreams that he has led you to the end of the world, his and yours. Hands on your neck and squeezing and you begging him - not to let go- but to love him - to keep him - to let himself be loved by you and he squeezes harder just to make you stop, just to run away and bring the end faster because is there nothing more fitting for a reaper than to kill what he loves the most? And really, he is convinced he will be the death of you one day. Some day, maybe one like today where he’ll find you with a wound he created, a quick and sharp end to your story and to your love for him- a thread cut and snipped. Although sometimes, he dreams of you dealing the killing blow to him too. Standing over his body with a knife in your hand, shaking and holding it to your chest, before kneeling at his side to put your hands over the wound, just to watch the blood spill around your fingers and telling you while you cry, while you say you're sorry, that he loves you, that you're his big girl, his princess and he forgives you still, even if you're ready to lay down and die next to him, nestled into his side where you belong.

If he thinks about it too hard, he gets a little light headed, a little sick with it. At the thought that maybe you’re bringing something into the world that could only be taken again, another thing just like you he’s bound to bring an end to at some point just because he’s Hanma Shuji, and that means something to all the right and wrong people.

‘Shuji?’ you say, a tentative hand on his forearm as he stares, mindlessly, at the neon green lights of the pharmacy that looks equally frightening and imposing to him.

He snaps to attention, resists the urge to rub his eyes as he reaches for a cigarette in the silver tin you’d gifted him, etched with his initials and nicked and scratched, a testament to you and him and all the love you share. ‘Yeah?’

‘You okay? You’re spacing out a bit.’ You sound soft, sweet, bright and beautiful eyes looking up at him from beneath your lashes, your beanie pulled over your forehead to keep the chill out and he loves you infinitely. Even as he shakes, even as he takes a drag of the cigarette to calm his nerves, to ease the fear quaking under his skin and you are just there, so close and within reach and he lets you stroke his arm and then his cheek, leaning into your palm with a tentative kiss, his lips finding your skin just as the nicotine floods his veins. 

‘Mhm, sorry Pretty Girl, just tired,’ he says and closes his eyes, just briefly, momentarily letting himself sink against your palm as you stroke the apple of his cheek, his fine and sharp cheekbones that your fingers now skim lightly.

‘I’m scared, you know.’ 

His eyes flutter open, lashes dancing on his cheek, a drag of his cigarette that he then puts out. ‘I know Sweetheart, I know. Everything will be fine, I promise.’ He leans forward, presses his lips to your forehead, a hand around the back of your head as your lips tremble, and he knows you’re holding it together, that it’s all so unexpected and new and terrifying and you’re being brave for him, cutting back the tears, even if he wishes you let yourself break and be sensitive and fragile with him. But you’re like that often, so willing to put on a brave face, so forthcoming in nursing his wounds with your soft and expertly gentle hands that he can only wait, can only hold you as you crumple when you’re ready to. 

He knows with certainty that he’s afraid too, that he’s hiding his shaking hands around you, that the tremble in his voice, the lump in his throat that threatens unshed tears will be put at bay for you. Just to take care, just to be the man you need him to be, just to be your Shuji that you love and admire and lean on even if you’ll never admit it.

He knows you do. Need him that is. He needs you too. He knows that you know that as well and he doesn’t mind that it’s unspoken, that you prefer to rest your head against his chest than talk about it, the two of you against everything else.

‘You ready?’ he asks, and you nod, resolute, pulling your hoodie close around you as he comes around to open the car door.

You find the pharmacy just as foreboding, green and white lights that wink and glower at you as you step through the doors. The two of you avoid the aisle at first, grabbing at anything else until you take his hand, gently, and muster the courage to throw 3 clearblue tests in the basket, now laden with other miscellaneous items. A protein bar, a chapstick, some vaseline, painkillers, anything to make it less scary for you.

‘You sure this is the only one we need?’ you say, huddled next to the other pregnancy tests and condoms, looking up at him from beneath the grey hood.

‘I think so, but we’ll take a few, just to be sure.’ He takes the basket to the cash register and the service worker wordlessly scans it all through, the two of you with your hands clasped together and you nestled into his side conspiratorially. 

You sit in the car for a moment before you make the drive home. Both of you with the bag between you and resting on the console, hands still joined firmly together as you stare at it, as if it could come alive. 

You glance at him in your periphery, at the mix of wonder and fear, excitement and anguish, joy and anxiety that he directs at the bag between you before he shakes his head and turns the key in the ignition. 

You make a beeline for the bathroom when you arrive, your hoodie shrugged off and trainers foregone as you empty the bag on the counter, three pregnancy kits then taken to the bathroom as Shuji trails after you. 

You place them on the sink, one box after the other in an orderly row as you wait for him to join you there, staring at him in earnest, in need when he arrives with his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow and his jacket on the back of the door.

You wait for him to advise you, to anchor you somehow, give you the permission you need to take the plunge and he does, silently, taking the test kit from the outer packaging. 

You read the leaflet together, you leaning against his side as he reads over your shoulder. 

'It says you can pee directly on the stick but, it seems a little uncomfortable like that,' he mumbles, an arm edging around your side to keep you anchored against him. 

'I…I think I have a urine sample bottle, from the last time I went to the doctor. It's in the third drawer on the nightstand.' 

'I'll get it,' he says and wordlessly puts the kit down on the porcelain sink as he leaves the bathroom. You hear him rummaging around in the bedroom as you pick up the white stick, the blank result window taunting you with it's grey screen. 

He returns and hands you the urine sample bottle and you quake with fear, crumpling against his side again as he strokes your hair, soothes you with his lips to your skin. 

'You can do this, I know you can sweetheart.' He runs a firm hand along your back, rests his cheek on your hairline. 

'Oh god Shuji I'm so scared, I'm so so scared. I want this, I really do, but this is so new, so scary, so unexpected for us,' you whisper against his shirt, clutching onto it from the back between your fists, holding on tight to him like you're afraid of letting go. And you are, you always are.

'I know, I know Princess. But we need to know ok? And listen to me.' He pulls back momentarily, lifts your chin till your eyes meet his, a soft and adoring glaze shining on the surface of them, and you scared and afraid and small and so loved by him in the reflection, your arms still around his middle. 'No matter what it says, you're my girl, understand? That's not changing, ever.'

Your lips wobble of their own accord. 'You promise?'

He nods, resolute, a bravery he's putting on for you to be the man you need him to be. 'I promise. Come on now Sweetheart, let's do this yeah?'

And you feel braver just because he believes you are, because he believes in you at all. 

'Okay, let's do this then.' 

'Do you want me to….?' He gestures at the bathroom door with a pointed thumb. 'While you pee?' And it feels awkward and unlike him to ask, when you know there are no boundaries like that- but it's only that he's nervous and jittery and as afraid as you are. 

And it somehow gets a laugh out of you, one that's tinged with fear and anxiety but a laugh all the same. 'Shuji, we've done some very weird things together but you're afraid of watching me pee?' 

And he Scoffs with mock indignation as you squat on the toilet to pee into the bottle. 'Hey, I'm trying to be nice!' and it somehow makes you lighter, that he's trying to humour you when you're scared enough to shake and can't get your urine in the bottle properly, can't relax enough to do it right and he doesn't say anything, doesn't make a comment at any of it but instead picks up the test kit to inspect until you pull your panties and sweatpants back up. 

The bottle is only half full. 

'At least your pee is healthy,' he says with mirth. 

'Okay Doctor Hanma, now you're just messing around.' You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully, and he laughs, a singular moment You're grateful for before you turn your attention back to the test kit. 

You flick open the lid on the urine sample with a long look at him before you uncap the pregnancy test kit, sticking the pink strip in and holding it there. 

'Five seconds right?' He slides his hands around your stomach, resting his head on your yours, and you hold his eyes, all the love reflected in them as you hold the stick in the urine sample. 

'Y-Yeah, and then five more.' And you don't look, don't see the screen changing, and neither does he. But for the moment there is only the two of you in the world, in this bathroom where he still has his dinner suit on and you're beautiful and loved and terrifying and he wishes he could ease your fear more, like he could take it away all together.

You take the white kit from the urine sample, shaking and shivering, your hand clattering lightly against the porcelain sink and he cups your cheeks, two big hands so tender against your skin. 

'You wanna have a look?' 

'I'm scared Shuji.'

'I know Sweetheart, I know, but I've got you, you know this.'

'Okay….' You take a breath, deep and full. 'I'm going to look now,' you say, resolute, a bravery you don't feel but want him to believe you do. 

Because you're his girl, and he's your angel, your hero who taught you what love was, who made you understand because he took the plunge of loving you despite many pitfalls. 

'Good girl, let's do this Princess,' he says, a final kiss to your lips, to your forehead too, soft and reassuring and mumbling praise against your skin.

So you do. You turn, and hold the stick close for you both to see.

You look at the screen, a cross now firm across the grey screen, dark blue and clear and unblinking.

You drop it instinctively, a clatter against the skin and your hand flies to your mouth.

'Oh god-' 

'Princess-'

'Shuji I- we-' 

'I know, I know-' 

'Oh- oh Shuji, baby-' 

You turn, breath coming fast and quick and the room spinning above and below you, the floor coming up to meet you, the ceiling coming down to crush you underneath. Everything is bright, hot, intense and happening too fast and the pregnancy test is white and obvious and impending in the sink, blue lines winking at you. 

He lets out a breath, hands shaking, one running through his hair and then joining the other around you, holding you close, tight and snug and firm and you crumple, the overwhelming surge of it all thumping in your veins as you shake and close his shirt between your fists. 

'Easy, easy Pretty Girl, breathe.' He whispers against your hair, as you chant and press his name into his skin, your cheek against his heart and listening all the while to the furious beat of it on his ribs. 

You choke it out, fullness and joy and love and fear curling into one. 'Oh God, Shuji I- we're- I'm having a baby- we're- we're having a baby?' 

Like a question, like you're expecting him to tell you what you know because you trust him and need to hear it from him. And his voice strains, a fine crackle down the middle of it like static, unshed tears inlaying and coating the edge of his words. 

'Y-Yeah, we're having a baby Sweetheart- we are.' And it's hushed, thick with emotion and his eyes are wild and intense and full of feeling. 

'We are, we're- oh my God I can't believe this is happening-' 

And then, suddenly, like a lightning bolt. 'How did you know? You knew- you knew somehow that's why you asked me when my period was.' Your voice laced with awe, with adoration, love leaking and slipping between your fingers when you take his face between your hands. 

He laughs, hesitant, hands dropping to your hips to smooth circles into the patch between your shirt and sweatpants. 'I know you, Pretty girl.' And he says it matter-of-factly, like the simplest thing and irrefutable. Then, more seriously, despite the strain, despite his own wishes and not for any other reason other than the fact that yours come first. 'Are we…I mean, are you okay with this?'

He loves you too much sometimes, more than you know, more than you feel you deserve too. When he looks down at you like now, honeyed gaze soaking you up, tender and soft and weak entirely, he knows you could break him. Snap him in half. That he'd let you anyway, turn the knife in time and twist it, would hold your hands over the hilt just to feel the touch of your skin on his.

You love him too, more than you can say, more than you could ever tell him, more than he would ever understand too. As if he could reach into you, pluck your heart out and crush it between his inked hands, and you would forgive him just for loving you enough to touch it anyways.

You nod, tears slipping freely now, and lost in the off-white of your shirt. 'I want this. We want this right?' 

'We do. I do too,' he says, lips to your hairline with a soft hum. 

It slips out on instinct, heart full of love and adoration, stomach thrumming with the intensity of it. 

'I love you,' you say, half a sob, half a prayer, and entirely true. 

'I know Sweetheart, I know.' Because he does and he feels it and he is redeemed by the constancy of you, by love that he thinks he could never earn, could never be good enough for. 

You love him, and it is your greatest sin, the only thing you ever need to atone for to the world, to love someone who is so bad to it, who could never give you the kind of stability you deserve. Or so he thinks.

'We….' you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, moving for a moment to look up at the shining reflection of you in the swirls of gold. 'We'll have to paint the spare room, and think of baby names maybe.' 

He chuckles, sways side to side, rests your head on his chest. 'Yeah, we will. I've got some ideas already.'

'You have?' 

'Mhmmm, I bet you have too. However, I have to say one thing. If you're having twins you know what that means right?' 

You frown, curious, cocking your head to the side and he grins, the promise of some mischief playing on his lips. 

'It means I got a magic dick.' 

Your jaw falls. 'Shuji?!' You say, incredulous and aghast, but fighting the smile all the same, a laugh bubbling in your chest and he feels warm, feels good and your smile is a reward after everything.

You are the reward after everything. 

a/n : haha hiiii...... I have nothing to say aside from happy anniversary to me and the love of my life, my angel and hero who taught me love, who is the sun in my sky, my beloved heart and soul, i love and adore you endlessly, I hope u see this. (sorry its a few days late i was unwell lmao)

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @burnishedcrown @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @stargirl-stabber @intheafterall @ljubimaya

[chrattho1]

employee!matt x boss!reader

do you have a problem?

summary: matt has been working under you for 2 years now,you have a very professional relationship with all your employees but sometimes when you catch matt staring at you and checking you out—you can’t help but be intrigued by what goes on in his head.

warnings: use of pet names, oral (m.receiving),sub!matt

a/n: there will be a pt2 for this!

“so these have to go in today?” matt’s eyes squint as he questions you in your office.

you click your teeth before looking up at him from the computer screen. “yes matt,do you have a problem staying late and finishing them up?” your eyebrows in a knot.

“i guess not” matt’s voice lower now as he looks down at the files in his hands,his foot tapping the floor next to your desk.

“start working on them” you said,eyes not leaving the screen.

you can hear matt sigh softly as he walks out of your office with the pile of files he has to work on,the pile of files that’ll take at least 2 hours to get done.

its already 5 pm, everyone in the office has left the premise to go to their respective homes,families,maybe get a drink with their friends,but you and matt are stuck in the office.matt still working on those files and you on digitising them one by one as he comes by and drops each one of them off in your office. even though you could have more people wait back-you would rather have only one person stay back and do the work,so you chose matt. is there a specific reason behind you choosing him? maybe.

you walk out of your office,trailing down your way to matt’s cubicle where you hear him humming a song.

you lean on the cubicle wall,watching him bob his head to the song as he fills out some papers.

“i wanna share an apartment a room,-mh mhm mh-” matt spins in his chair as he hums the lyrics to a song,but the spinning comes to a halt when he sees you leaning on his wall,smiling at him.

“hey” you said,your arms crossed,your shoulders still leaning on to the wall.

“hi” matt returns the smile,but his expression soon changes watching you still stand there,why were you here? don’t you have work to do as well? his thoughts race up,just as any employee’s thoughts would if their boss stood there staring at them doing their work.

“what? can i not supervise you?” you spoke, playfulness lacing your words.you slowly make your way to his small desk,pushing up and sitting on it. you’re now right in front of his chair,your bare knees brushing against his clothed ones.

matt’s breath hitches but he can do nothing but simply shake his head at your question,his lips curl up when senses your playful tone.

“i like your earing” you said pointing at his ear with a smile on your face,a smile you don’t often give to people in the office.

matt’s hands involuntarily reach to his earing,touching it,almost not convinced that he just got complimented by you.

“uh—thanks-thank you” matt’s eyes never leave you. something building up in his chest,but he doesn’t really know what.

“lets take a break yeah?” you said bringing your face closer to him,your hand reaching to grab the hand rest of his chair,your faces inches apart. matt’s chest heaving,his breathing ragged and you’ve barely spoken two sentences to him.

to your statement of taking a break matt nods,his eyes fluttering not knowing what is happening right now.

“so matt,tell me about yourself,got a girlfriend? a wife? kids?” your manicured nails tap the hand rest of his chair. matt shakes his head to your question,to which you frown.

“really?” you ask in disbelief,feeling a rush of excitement as soon as you realise that this is perfect.

“i don’t” matt shrugs,he has a smile on his face making it very clear that he is embarrassed.

“how is that possible? you’re a good looking guy,well spoken,make good money at this company” you state facts about him that you know,sounding almost like you admire those things about him, and that makes matt suck in a breath.

you praising him,talking to him in this demeanour,he feels like he is in a wet dream that he’s definitely had before-so naturally his pants start feeling tighter around his groin.

matt shrugs,his eyes not batting away,he is not even blinking as much.

“i thought girls would throw themselves at you” you bite the inside of your cheek,matt’s non verbal,flustered state making you want to tease him even more.

matt shakes his head again,letting you know that girls in fact don’t throw themselves at him.

“that’s a shame,i personally think you’re a greaatt guy” you pout,your hands reaching down to rest on one of his knees.

“fuck” matt whispered under his breath,but the office being so quite made his voice almost echo in your ears,you smirk at his reaction. a reaction he gave from something so small.

“like when i touch you?” you spoke tilting your head down and looking up,matt nods frantically.

“gotta use your words matt” one side of mouth curling up.

“ye-yes i do” matt finally lets words out of his mouth-shaky,hasty words.

“want me to touch you more?” your hand now stroking his thigh,at an extremely slow pace. you can feel his skin radiating heat from underneath the pants he’s worn.

“yes- please—” matt couldn’t have sounded more desperate if he tried to,his hips rising and sliding down the chair.

you lean over him more with your hands moving up to his tie,loosening it.your eyes never leave his as you do so.

matt’s eyes scan all over your you,your tits right in his face. his hands go up from his sides to softly lay at your waist.

“is this okay?” shaky words from him fall onto your features with his breath,minty you think.

“mhm” you nod,his tie now almost fully loose.

“please-” matt’s voice low,but your receptors catch it perfectly.

you grab the end of his loosened tie,pulling him up with you.dragging him into your office,matt fully giving into your actions,loving every single second of what’s happening-even the walk from his cubicle to your office.

once you’re both in the office,you push him against the door,his body weight closing it on its own.the way you’re pressed onto him-you can feel the the rhythm of his heartbeat aligning with yours,his being just a tad bit higher than yours. you can also feel his throbbing dick press against your inner thigh.

your fingertips trail along his jaw,feeling the tiny hair from his stubble. “i see the way you look at me matt” you whisper. he looks at you with wide eyes,exhaling deeply. your fingers now making their way up to his mouth,index finger toying with his bottom lip.

“what do you have to say about that huh?” your finger slowly making its way in,and he opens his mouth for you to do so.

“always so quite,looking so innocent” your voice low and seductive,matt’s eyes flicker at the sound. his mouth still hung open with just the tip of your finger in it.

you lay small pecks on his cheeks slowly,before getting to his lips dropping your hand to his chest,pressing him down. matt complies immediately kissing you with hurry he’s never been in before. the room is filled with sounds of sharp breaths that were taken through matt’s nose while his mouth was occupied. as both your lips and tongues were tied your hands got busy untucking his shirt from under his pants. his hands rested on your hips softly.

you pull away to slide his suit jacket off of him-one shoulder at a time,and then his tie and then the buttons on his shirt. once his shirt slides off of his skin,you’re taken a back,a small gasp leaves your mouth.

“you have a tattoo sleeve?” you asked even though the proof lied in front of your eyes. matts eyes drop to his arm,and then on to you hoping that’ll give you the answer to your question.

“fuck-come here—” you said pulling him and kissing him sloppily again,flushed by the feeling of wanting him even more,the knowledge that him acting so quite and innocent is kind of for show did something to you.

your fingertips trail down his abdomen,deciding to rest right on his v-line.

matt pulled away this time,his lips swollen and mouth open catching a breath.

“can i take this off you?” he asked hesitantly,fingers toying with the collar on your shirt. a smirk grows on your face and you nod. matt wastes no time,his fingers got to work-unbuttoning your shirt as fast as he can.

you smile down at him as he does so,his desperate state making your panties wetter by the second.

“oh my—fuck” a small whimper falls from his mouth,the sight of your lacy bra that barely covered your tits making his knees weak,better than he’d imagine,or dreamt of.

you throw your shirt off somewhere,before leaning your head down to his neck. lips leaving traces down to his collarbone,sucking on it. with a moan matt’s head falls back making a “thump” sound on the wooden door behind him. you immediately look up at him to check if he’s okay.

his eyes on you when he notices the look of concern on your face. “im okay” he whispers,his voice cracking. you smile holding in a giggle before getting back to what you were doing before.

after about a good 5 minutes,you’ve kissed him all over his neck and chest,when you get to his lower tummy matt noticeably squirms under you. a smirk forms onto your lips as you continue to trail kisses down his stomach,getting right above the band of his pants. you look up at him once,batting your eyelashes.

“please—” he spoke between his teeth,his eyes half lidded but you can see the glint on them.

you unbutton his pants with one hand,the other rested on his chest stretched out.

his pants fall to his ankles,you’re met with the sight of his calvin clien boxers that have a small dark patch of precum on them.

your long manicured nails graze the skin over his hipbone while you slowly pull down on his boxers. matt’s dick springs out of them as soon as the boxers come off,his dick more desperate than he is. tip red and swollen,precum oozing. the sight making you suck in a gasp he is big-you thought.

you lean down even more,your face at his dick-level. matt squirms at the feeling of your breaths falling on to his dick.

“hmp-please—” every time he begs,you want him to beg more,but this time you have a feeling if you keep teasing-he might cry.

“such a good boy for me yeah?” you say looking up at him,to which he nods with his eyes closed.

“yes-yes—i am” you smile at his words that motivate you to do more for him. your tongue pops out of your mouth,kitty licking his tip a few times.

“OH—” matt’s eyes pressed shut at the small action. his hips involuntarily thrusting in the air past your tongue.

you bring your tongue from his tip down to the base of his dick and swirl it around.

“oh fu—d-don’t tease—i’ll cum—” whining and groaning,matt’s voice isn’t even his at this point,so cracky,full of pants and heavy breathing. his brain working in favour of the pleasure and not him.

you finally put your mouth around halfway through his dick,taking the rest in your palms. matt’s mouth focused more on whimpering than breathing.

“hmpph—just like tha-so good mama” moaning and whimpering matt’s hands fall into your hair when you start bobbing around his dick,your tongue covered in his saline precum.

“so-so beautiful—ahhh fuck—” matt tries his hardest to open his eyes to get a glimpse of you sucking his dick in a bra with your short skirt riding all the way up your thighs but his eyes betray him and shut once again.

“i cant—cant—” matt almost sounds like he is apologising when you feel his dick twitch in your mouth,you knew he was going to cum right then,so you pulled off of him

the whine that leaves matt’s mouth next made your breath hitch,he is so desperate.

“not yet baby” you got up from the floor and grabbed his hand,leading him to your desk.

english is not my first language !

[pinkautist]

yo that's so cool about oppy! i love that design aspect -- it feels like it kind of follows his character's idea of being scared of betrayal, and HATING vulnerability bc of not wanting to show anyone his cards (just in case they use them against him). like it's a vulnerable part of him (naturally, with all the backstabbing, and the fact that it's a scar) and so he's trying to keep it safe, not give anyone any ideas

hero is literally my favorite voice ever. i love him so very much and you drew him so cute. i love the swirls and curled feathers in his design. like it gives him a softness, an elegance, while the metal on his beak and the cloak give the sense of honor that a hero (heh) or a knight would have.

(would it be offensive to say that contrarian looks like a Bug? he looks so small and cute)

i love it when people include hearts in smitten's design so much. it's like the classic kind cartoon prince design, with a soft body and flamboyant yet noble demeanor. i particularly like the detail regarding the marks by his eyes.

upon first seeing paranoid's design, i was immediately reminded of the sharp, jagged lines of lightning, something that can be used to convey nerves. it feels very fitting too, given his nervous and jumpy character.

i really really love all of the designs so much. stubborn is excellent, with his rough edges, yet a distinct "softness" (i suppose?) that makes his musculature stand out. i like that skeptic looks like he's wearing a mask across his eyes (or well. a mask in general? his eye area just gave me the vibe of like. robin's eye mask area).

broken's design is very cute, and idk if you did this intentionally, but i like how his full body image has him sitting on the ground with his hands clasped in front of him. it gives the idea that he's praying, which would be appropriate, given that he is the tower's direct counterpart and pretty much immediately wants you to pledge youself to her as she ascends to godhood.

cheated also sticks out to me as having a notable and great design. i like his frazzled appearance, the markings on the sides of his mouth, and his body language and facial expressions in his picture.

another one that sticks out to me is hunted. i really enjoy it when he's shown to be on all fours, and i like to think that he can stand up like the others, but it would feel safer and more natural to be on all fours like that. he could move quicker. the big ear tufts, and the false eyes are a good touch. (also he's a lot bigger than i thought he'd be?? but that's probably bc i'm so used to people portraying him as sparrow-like and being the smallest of the bunch. that said, i appreciate how small contrarian is bc it adds to his bug-like cuteness)

The Voices .

(Like, all of them)

They are birds, but actually not really because they have other animal inspired featuresBUT THEN AGAIN WHAT IS ANYTHING OF THE LONG QUIET?

All of them get the crowns of their respective Chapter I princess's. The tiaras change depending on the princess, no context, no matter that they haven't seen the princess yet(is always more of a symbolic representation, some even mold them out of the path)

I imagine this dust feathers post-construct all got bodies because TLQ did them all by memory and yanked them from the Princess's hearts where they still stayed (in a part of the Shifting Mound still whiting her) or smth close to that. But when they actually became "real" they where put in a separate world entirely, itty-bitty tree house and everything for them.

*Bonus terrible size reference:

[momo-matic]

why I think that the “uncorrupted/redeemed” Shadow Milk costume is not well designed. Please keep in mind these are my opinions, and this is just for funsies

Okay, let’s just get this out of the way, I think the costume is very pretty but. Like, hello?? I cannot be the only one who thinks this costume is too on the nose?? In this, I’ll break down all of the issues I have with the costume!!

I hate that they gave him the same colored eyes as Pure Vanilla. I hate hate hate it, I think it’s playing too closely to “oh we’re one in the same,” but we can have that without being *that* similar, you know?

I think the colors don’t mesh all that well together. For one, gold has NEVER been in Shadow Milk’s color palette, it has always been shades of blue, white, black, and some silver-ish shades. Putting gold there instead of silver I think just disrupts the whole feel of the costume. And again, with being *very* similar to Pure Vanilla’s color palette, gold has pretty much been in all of Vanilla’s costumes and designs, but now all of a sudden we’re adding it to Shadow Milk?? Hello?? It doesn’t really make sense for this to have a gold theme all of a sudden

I think the design patterns (sleeves and such) are too similar to base Pure Vanilla, same reasons as stashed above

why is his staff a key now?? We’re really pushing the “Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are the same!!1!1” in game, huh? Like, don’t get me wrong, i am I big fan of ShadowVanilla and parallels and such, but like.. this is too much. Just look at Awakened Pure vanilla, who also has a key, but that makes sense for Pure Vanilla.

I don’t think the hat looks good at all, the eyes on it are weird, the brim of the hat is again VERY similar to PV’s, it just feels like they were just throwing design elements together and hoping we would like it. I just think his whole design looks sloppy.

the puff on the cape. Let’s think back to who had always hand one.. hmm… almost like it was PURE VANILLA. Oh my god, it never stops.

tldr: I just think it is sloppily designed, and they’re trying way too hard to make Shadow Milk look more like Pure Vanilla to push “we’re one in the same.” Which is a good concept, just needed better execution.

[tofuto-art]

Silly Kill Switch fanart

For @king-candybug-backup !

[No text + some ramblings under cut]

THIS TOOK ME SO LONG (Like almost a week of working little by little) I am so so proud of it. Got this idea almost immediately after reading chapter 9 of Kill Switch I was just waiting for my tests to pass to draw the thing lol. I am thinking about making more less procreate-breaking art about this AU and WiR in general. I already have a WiR OC in my gallery, I’m just refining the lore atm. Hopefully I can gather the courage to post it soon.

Ik the size difference makes 0 sense but if I made Vanellope smaller she literally disappears into the background 😭 so uh yeah unrealistic perspective-

Please go check the fic/AU out if you’re interested! It’s one of the main reasons why I got into WiR and got infected with the King Candy virus…

PLUS it’s a very well-written fic, one of the best I’ve ever seen :D

No text Version for y’all 👇

[canine-witch]

What is your shadow side?

The Shadow Side is a piece of ourselves that we do not wish to accept, for a multitude of reasons. They could be social reasons, religious reasons, past experiences, ect. Originated in Jungian psychology, the theory is you can begin to grow and become more happy when you face your shadows and accept them.

My intention today is to help the collective find a place to start doing shadow work on this aspect of themselves, if they so choose.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to discard what does not resonate

🌧️ personalized readings avaliable on kofi 🌧️

─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile One ~ The Roses

Your shadow is isolation. You may have had an experience in your life, that made you think you could do it all alone. It is a toxic independent and individualistic mindset. You may struggle with materialsim or a sense of constant lack. You may see your medical issues as something you can easily overcome. You don't want to rely on others, because others have dissapointed you far too much.

"I can do it all alone."

No one human can fight all their battles alone. There may be manifestations or blessings coming in through people, which you are blocking by thinking you can make it all on your own. You need to cease isolating yourself. Seek medical and professional help as you need it. Slowly begin to trust humanity again, there is good and bad, and dark and light, like anywhere. Stop thinking you are alone, no person is ever alone.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Two ~ The Angel

Your shadow is combativeness. You are always the first on one the battlefield, and the last one to leave the war. Defending what you love and experiencing riteous justice is not a bad thing, but you can hurt yourself with your anger. You aren't fighting wisely, nor very effectively. You end up not understanding when the time is to drop people, arguements, and swords. You have healing to do, and fighting like this is just a toxic outlet.

"My anger consumes me; I can't not fight."

You may have a lot of pent up frustrations collected over years of injustice. Something that may be benefical is volunteering in your community. Maybe even seeking a career path which allows you to do good for others. If you are angry over the treatment of animals, perhaps you could volunteer at shelters or advocate for adoption agencies. If you are angry at the justice system in your country, perhaps seeking the ability to control some part of it by pursuing a career would help. Look inwards and see what you care the most about, and put the energy into helping directly. Your anger is justified and right, but it need to go somewhere else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Three ~ The Jellyfish

Your shadow is obsession. This may be varying levels of obsession, but you lean into them heavily depending on the day. This may be a concept, person, or place that you associate heavily to childhood or a past wound you cannot release. It is misery manifesting as a fixation. It may have a grip on anything, from your heart to your financials, and you need to accept that this is not joy, it is sadness.

"This reminds me of what I have lost."

You may be fighting the concept that you are sad. That whatever happened is something that hurts you to this day, and shows up in your life as vices. You shouldn't feel shame or feel guilt about these emotions or wanting to process them without pain. But, pain can lead towards transformation, and you are stuck in a spiral. You do have the strength to persevere and face whatever you need to. You do not have to cling to this energy, for your own sake.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Pile Four ~ The Beach

Your shadow is your broken heart. You may have been heartbroken by a past lover, or someone who you were close to betrayed you, and perhaps used you. This left you with a flurry of emotions, each one swirling and chaotic. You reflect this energy outwards, and can't seem to catch a break or be able to slow down. Or when you do, you procrastinate.

"My heart is broken, and I will never love again."

The only way to mend your own heart is through yourself. You need to find peace and prosperity from the inside, outwards. You need to change your mindframe, release the pain that others gave you, and redefine your life. It may be difficult, and the work may be hard, even excruciating. But you can, and will, save yourself. You are a dedicated person, but you need to learn loyalty to yourself first, before you can mend your broken heart. Do shadow work, affirmations, and spells that will bring you self love. Do mirror affirmations and try to change your mindset. You will be okay again, but it is up to you and nobody else to decide that.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Thank you for trusting me with your time and energy! If you want a more in depth reading, my comprehensive readings listing is 🌧️ here, through kofi. I'd appreciate the help!

Have a wonderful day, and I hope this helped you! 🌧️

[ostolero]

Mirroring Sheev's Plan by Sullivan Performed by Austin Walker on AMCA (original post on Cohost)

https://bsky.app/profile/dimosar.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/austinwalker.bsky.social

https://x.com/more_civilized

Sheev's Plan:

get elected to senate for naboo

start new sith order

work republic and separatists against each other. recruit evil guy to lead separatists.

(this jedi kid is wicked strong!)

get jedi in deep with clone army. (save some clone jars for later? just in case...)

PIVOT: Make the jedi kid evil. dont need separatist guy anymore. got a new evil guy.

make my evil guy kill his jedi pals when they come to arrest me. ill finish em off with my lightning attack

(fucking guy used his sword to bounce my lightning back at me! honestly my fault. takes a minute for the lightning to wind down and he got my ass on the bounce. fair play. now i look like a leather couch but its fine. can blame jedi for THAT too)

Use the clones to kill the jedi, have my evil guy kill the seperatists, keep the army, spin into empire

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

chill as emperor for a while. humiliate Vader for a laugh. make death star.

Endgame achieved.

(Vader's kid blows up my death star)

PIVOT: get new young apprentice by turning him evil once he kills his dad, or maybe make Vader cooler by making him kill his gay son. either way its a win-win for me.

(thrown down hole and killed.)

PIVOT: good thing i kept those clone jars!! make new clone body to inhabit. takes time to get right. need something to do until then

build enormous fleet of big spaceships, each with their own super death star laser. keep em on the down low... why use em? they lose half the value as soon as you fly them off the lot

(clone son betrays me but its no biggie. its fine. have loads of clones at this point. whats one clone son?)

create a DECOY fascist empire. put one of my weirder clones in charge. Not giving them any of my ships though. can build his own shit. dont look at me. get a bank loan

let failed clone recruit vaders grandson (will explain why later) let those guys take over the galaxy with a different super death star. assume they built this one themselves. very cute!

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(only via proxy tho. not done yet)

let(??) vaders grandson ("ben"?? ok) usurp failed clone and rule galaxy. wants to “kill the past” but whatever. can still make this work. NEED to keep this kid in the mix (will make sense when we get there)

drop the big news. Im not dead! Fortnite. awesome moment.

lead kylo ren to my base using complex scavenger hunt. puzzle knife.

tell him he’s always actually worked for me. big reveal. big moment. He's my lackey now. a little traitorous and unreliable, but this will pay off later trust me

use death star ships to take over galaxy even more

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(awesome... but not enough. something missing)

let kylo ren lead clone granddaughter to home base using complex scavenger hunt. Puzzle Knife cool enough idea to do twice i think

taunt granddaughter into killing me so i can possess her un-janked body. All part of my grand scheme...

Endgame achieved. (??)

(kylo ren betrays me)

PIVOT: Possession stupid plan anyway. Instead, use ben and reys Horny Essence to make my nasty old body normal again.

throw ben in hole (grandson purpose revealed)

destroy resistance with lightning powers. shooting spaceships down with magic lightning basically a solved problem at this point.

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

kill the granddaughter actually. dont need her anymore. lightning powers classic for a reason.

ive got this thing in the bag as long as she doesn't bounce the lightning back at me off her fucking laser sword.

Endgame achieved.

You know, all three times Palpatine took an L it was because he couldn't just couldn't stop jizzing lightning. In fact, with the exception of the bit where he tries a little burst and Yoda just catches it, every time he does it it breaks bad for him in some way cause he's just to much of a sicko to stop electro-jaculating in time. Compare this to the dignified, almost regal, force lightning emanations of Count Dooku.

Don't really have a point, but sometimes you just gotta post about Sheev Palpatine.

[misctf]

Experiential Learning

“Dude, I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Mike grinned.

The two men paused their jog, taking a few deep breaths and basking in the warmth of the summer air. Jason wiped some sweat from his forehead and looked towards his friend.

“I guess I can understand it, well in theory.” Jason continues, running a hand through his blond hair, “But you’re telling me you’ll fuck around for hours and still not blow? Like, what’s the point?”

“That is the point, bro.” Mike stretches his muscular arms, “When you're right on the edge, so close to release... it's like nothing else. Fuck... and when you do finally let go.” His grin widens, “Fucking mind-blowing, best orgasm you’ll ever have.”

“Yeah but dude, isn't it just torture? Having to hold back all that time?” Jason shakes his head, “I'd rather just bust a nut and be done with it. Fuck, how do you get anything done? I feel like I’d be so fucking horny all day.”

Mike chuckles and slaps Jason on the back, “Oh man, it’s about the journey, not the destination. And that journey could last for hours, even days if you get as good as me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Hours? Days? Dude, I don't know if my balls could take that much punishment. Sounds like a case of self-inflicted blue balls.”

“Ah you’re boring, man.” Mike shrugs, “But if you ever want a lesson.” He winks playfully.

“Gross dude.” Jason chuckles, “You do you, man. Just glad I’m not your cock.”

“You wish you were.” Mike laughs, “C’mon, lets finish this run.”

----------------

It’s the next morning when Jason is awakened by the sound of an unfamiliar alarm.

“Ugh fuck.” He thinks. His body feels stiff- more so than what he would’ve expected from the intensity of his workout yesterday, “I didn’t go that hard.” He thinks, his thoughts shifting to the blaring alarm, “Okay, okay... I can’t see anything...” It was so dark, and he was covered in warm fabric, “Those black out curtains are good...” He tries to reach out towards the sound of the alarm, “My arms... I can’t move my arms...” It’s a strange sensation, as if he doesn’t have arms to move.

As the realization slowly dawns on Jason, panic begins to set in. He tries to sit up, to move his legs, but feels only a strange, throbbing heat emanating from below. Each movement he makes just causes his body to twitch. He tries again and again to move, but nothing responds to his mental commands. Even his desperate attempts to call out for help are useless. No words are able to leave his mouth, which feels forced open in an circular shape. The only thing Jason can feel is his form rubbing against something soft with each weak twitch of his stiff body.

“Ugh fuck...” Jason perks up at the sound of Mike voices, “God damnit... this fuckin’ alarm.”

The alarm is silenced and Mike throws the sheets off of him. The light shines through the room, illuminating it and giving Jason a better view. Jason can barely process his new perspective. He finds himself looking directly up at Mike's toned abdominal muscles, the individual abs clearly defined. His gaze traces up further, taking in the expansive, sculpted pectoral muscles above. To either side of Jason, towering and filling his entire field of vision, are Mike's colossal thighs. He can feel the warmth radiating from them.

“C’mon dude! Don’t you see me?” Jason thinks, an increasing sense of panic welling up from inside him.

Mike yawns and looks down, a slow grin forming across his face. Jason can feel Mike’s eyes on him and he wants to ask why the hell his buddy is smiling at him. More importantly, he wanted to ask why the fuck he was apparently in his bed, wedged between his bro’s thighs. But he couldn’t- for whatever reason he could form the words.

“Well hello there, handsome.” Mike chuckles to himself, “Looks like someone's ready to start the day.” Mike reaches down at wraps his meaty hand around his throbbing cock.

A jolt of intense pleasure shoots through Jason's entire being as he feels Mike's strong hand wrap around his body. The sensation is overwhelming - every nerve ending seems to come alive at once. He can feel the texture of Mike's skin, the slight calluses on his palm, the firm yet gentle grip. As Mike begins to stroke, slowly at first then picking up speed, waves of ecstasy pulse through Jason's new body. He twitches and throbs in Mike's grasp, growing even harder.

“Oh god oh fuck what the hell is happening?! I.... ohhhh.... please stop..... I'm not a dick.... I'm not a damn cock! I’m a man!”

Jason's mind reels as the sensations intensify. Mike's grip tightens, stroking faster now. Jason's thoughts grow increasingly slurred and fragmented.

“Nnngh f-fuck... s'too much...” Jason's brain fogs over with each pump of Mike's fist. The pleasure is all-consuming, wiping away coherent thought, “Can't... can't think straight...”As Mike's strokes become more urgent, Jason's resolve crumbles. The boundaries of his identity blur and fade, “I'm... I'm not... hnnngh! 

Jason's protests dissolve. In his hazy, lust-addled state, the idea of being separate from Mike's cock starts to seem absurd. After all, everything that made him Jason was gone. His firm pecs, muscular arms, toned legs- gone, his body just a veiny, thick shaft. His handsome features, killer smile- gone, just a pink cock head. Jason's mind goes completely blank as the pleasure peaks. All rational thought vanishes, replaced only by pure, primal need.

“Yes... I am a cock... Mike's cock...” Jason thinks, his remaining shreds of identity merging fully with his new role, “This is all I am, all I've ever been...” His purpose becomes clear, “Need... to... cum...”

But the hand stops. And as it does, Mike throws back his head and moans, basking in the pleasure and pain of denied release. All the while, Jason is suddenly jolted back to reality, his thoughts becoming clear, as a sense of clarity washes over him.

“Fuck...” He thinks as he regains focus, “I nearly...”

A sense of dread washes over him. He was so close. So close to losing himself. If Mike hadn’t stopped... if he kept going...

“...and when you do finally let go... Fucking mind-blowing...”

Mike’s words repeat in Jason’s consciousness. And Jason realizes that there is certainly a truth to his bro’s statement. If... when Mike finally released... Jason tries to push the thought out of his head. He had time- maybe he could find a way to communicate or reverse this. But before he can think more on it, Jason feels his perspective change again as Mike gets out of bed.

“Gotta hit the gym first.” Mike mumbles, grinning down at his slowly softening dick, “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it? Workout first, then...”

And Jason begins to realize he might not have as much time left as he thought. Mike grabs a pair of compression shorts and plunges Jason back into darkness, the feeling of the soft fabric teasing him even more. His thoughts growing foggy once again as each of Mike’s movements send a wave of pleasure and pain down the length of his sensitive, semi-hard body. The aching need nearly unbearable. Despite his earlier determination to escape this predicament, a small part of Jason finds himself craving the release he was denied. To fully experience Mike's take on edging.

"Maybe..." he muses dreamily, "maybe letting go won't be so bad....might be nice to finally...cum..."