#its old as fuck sure but its still very functional??

[evilfrogcereal29]

Pizza guy!Nikto - Chapter 1

(ok... This is going to be like, maybe one of the most weirdly specific fanfics you've ever read. For context: I work at a pizza place IRL. Thats it. Thats the only context. I was at work and. Thought about Nikto working there too. That's all you need to know. Enjoy :]!!!

This is going to be a Nikto x GN!customer!reader, but reader is NOT introduced in this chapter.

Cw/tws: mentions of violence- including towards an animal! I think thats all? Enjoy :)!!

NOTE: all text in red & italics are Nikto's voices

Nikto was bored.

Retirement was miserable, and Nikto found himself restless day in, and day out. Unable to find peace while wasting away at home. Sure, he had lot's of retirement money, but he had this urge to work, to kill. He would give anything to be on a plane to another mission right about now, but he was too 'broken'. That's what they basically told him. Too mentally unwell to keep working. A hazard to his own team.

Heh.

What the fuck do they know? They don't know what goes on in his head. So what he broke that recruit's arm? They touched him when he warned them of the consequences. Or who cares that he hit one of his higher-up's service dogs with the buggy? It should've been servicing it's owner, not under the damn vehicle! He's not a danger, the other voices are!

Speaking of voices, they aren't reacting well either, metaphorically biting away at Nikto's psyche each day he did fucking nothing. He felt useless, and they reminded him of that. You idiot, you deserve your suffering for being the way you are. Broken. Broken little solider.

He still gets calls from his mates in the service, especially Krueger, who always makes sure to call as often as possible to keep the man updated on missions, even if they didn't concern him anymore. He suggested that Nikto pick up a part-time job, not for the money, but the work. God (and Krueger) only knows what Nikto's mind gets upto when left to its own devices.

Nikto scoffed at first, he didn't like the idea of working at some measley fast food job, he was above that. He crawled through the fucking trenches and ripped out the throats of women and men, and would be reduced to... What? Cleaning a fucking stove? Heating up processed foods for weak civilians? No. He wouldn't. The voices mocked him, this is what we've been reduced to? Patheic.

And then the rot set in.

Krueger had been very insistant on a visit the second he had time away from work, flying out to see Nikto even as the man ignored his texts and calls. He wasn't dead, Krueger knew that, but he also wasn't in a good place. He couldn't let his companion live like this pathetic slob. Cause that's exactly what he was becoming.

Water and alcohol bottles littered the floor, stacks on stacks of old, half eaten take-out. Junk that should’ve been tossed long ago created walled barriers throughout the house. It was a scene out of horders, and the smell was awful. Christ. Krueger was no clean freak, but this? He'd rather sleep next to corpses than this cesspool of rotting filfth, and in the middle of it all, sat his balaclava-ed, smelly friend on the sofa. Krueger grimmaced, taking careful steps. He nearly stepped on poor Sputnik, who had become content with spending her days lazying about, peeing in places without Nikto's knowledge, and eating off his leftover scraps of food, growing just as lethargic as her owner.

"Nikto... Scheiße..” he would almost be outraged at the man’s carelessness if he didn’t understand how the other functioned, without a job, without a purpose, Nikto was truly a nobody. He lifted the man’s head with a gentleness, an action only someone like Krueger could get away with, looking into those glazed-over icy blues.

“This is… this is bad Nikto..” he mutters, eyes filled with..love? Concern? Something Nikto wasn’t used to often. Nikto finally shows evidence of life as his eyes flicker up in wordless understanding. Krueger continues,

"I can't stand to see you like this. You can't stand being like this. I'm going to help you."

Krueger lifts his friend up, albiet with mild arguing and growling from the disguntled bear of a man that Nikto is. He sets Nikto's cheap laptop on his lap and types in job sites, which already has Nikto tense.

"Krueger- чёрт побери! you're acting like my fucking mother-"

"good, about time someone comes in and wipes your ass, if not yourself." Krueger grumbles, scrolling through the job offers, "what's your SNILS...?"

After a painstaking back and forth, and Krueger prying for all of Nikto's personal info, he sent in a few applications on his friend's behalf. Patting the other on the back as Nikto's thumbs rubbed at his temples, fighting back the urge to pulverize his only real friend. You really should, he's a nuisance...

"this is... Not ideal.." Nikto finally grumbles, finishing the last of some lukewarm whisky from the bottle.

"none of this is, meine freund, but this...Is worse." Noone has ever seen them like this, so...domestic. In reality, this was as hard for Krueger as it was for Nikto, The Alligence wasn't the same without the Russian, fighting wasn't the same. Krueger rested a hand on his shoulder.

"everything is going to change, can you try to change a little with it?"

Change? Krueger wanted him to change? Was that even possible? He'd been so set in his ways ever since the incident. But the look in Krueger eyes let Nikto know that there wasn't really a choice.

What are you kidding? You could change as far as you could throw a boulder! Never!

He sighed, deeply. His shoulders slumping miserably as he exhaled.

"fine. But If we don't like the job-"

"ja, ja, you don't have to stay. I get it. I can't make you." He interupted, waving his hand dismissively, "but don't just give up right away. Can you promise me that?"

Nikto hated making promises, he hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, he didn't take on debts or deals. Go ahead, make more promises you can't keep. We know the truth.

Yet here he was, being interviewed by an elderly couple, who pitied him for his past as a solider.

"me and Martha are going to see how you fair in the kitchen, and if that's turns out to be too overwhelming we can move you to a more simple job like delivery. Just bring the customers their pizzas." The eldery man said with an acknowledging smile.

He nodded to the man, Michael, reaching across the table to shake his hand, thanking him begrudgingly for this... 'Opportunity'. Thats damn well what it was, but Nikto didn't quite see it that way yet. As he left with a work shirt displaying the place's name and logo, he felt his heart drop. And a shrill, annoying voice invading his mind.

You are truely a fucking Развалюха. Good luck ever trying to live a normal life!

And now Nikto was worried.

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

Hai :3 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I wanted to introduce reader in this first part but it was getting long and I also just wanted to get something out. There will be more chapters for this, but they might be kind of slow to come out😭 work takes up a LOT of my time tbh, but also working inspires me cause...yk pizza place setting so- its a double edged sword. But if you enjoyed pls like and reblog it means sm♥️♥️ ty for reading!!

And to the person who sent me an ask in my inbox about the relationship dynamics between NiktoKrueger + criminal!reader, I see u and ur creative vision, I started writing something today in response ;) just gimme some time!!!

Also an @ list for some mooties who I think would like to see this :3

@simp4konig @lizzy019 @fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea sorry If I missed anyone, lmk if you'd like to be tagged (or not tagged) in future chapters!!

[tinyspringtrap]

oof its almost christmas again

gonna be real if I get more shit I don’t want and specifically ask not to get instead of the far cheaper things I DO want and ask for this year... I’m gonna be... kinda upset

[zelda-posting]

tears of the kingdom could have been so good if it were built around like, its story or its characters instead of being a clunky shell to show off the mechanic no one asked for that it forces you to use

[arolesbianism]

hello gamers minor life update I have been doing Real bad lately so I will likely continue to be very inactive, but hey on the bright side I have been fleshing out some eternal gales lore I reworked a while back and I can happily say that Dodie no longer completely contradicts the very nature of reality in eternal gales and the fog tower™ officially has a real reason to exist again so hell yeah to that

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao

Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.

The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.

The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.

They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.

At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?

Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.

Anyways!

They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.

All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.

Go figure.

Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.

The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.

Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.

Gordon sighs. Figures.

So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.

At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.

Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.

Haha. Nope.

So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.

Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into… over the counter pain medication.

Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.

Danny waves at Alfred.

Alfred waves a tiny finger back.

“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”

Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.

“You understand me?”

Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.

“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”

Danny gestures to the blister packet.

“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”

The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.

Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”

Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.

“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.

Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.

“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”

Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.

Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”

Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.

Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.

He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.

“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”

Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.

“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

[cookinguptales]

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

[chirpycloudyrobin]

Masterlist || START || Next

im just thinking abt an au where wwx actually did die at the burial mounds but him surviving long enough there and even pioneering a new branch of cultivation to do so was enough to punt his ghost straight up to wrath rank. however he is unaware that hes actually dead since hes too focused on his goal to absolutely decimate wen chao to pay attention to his bodily functions/needs or lack thereof.

everyone else gets this feeling that something is off with wwx but they figure its just heebie jeebies from the demonic cultivation. it's only until wwx went back to the burial mounds with the wen remnants that it sinks in that hes dead. but then he realises that if this gets out, the cultivation world will be hunting for his head more viciously so he keeps this very tightly under wraps. all this secret keeping and exhaustion and starvation just makes wwx a teensy bit more volatile but at least he has his own little family to keep him sane.

until shit starts to go downhill. and it just keeps on going. until everyone is gone and hes the only one left standing and he needs to destroy the stupid fucking seal and keep the others from discovering where he hid a-yuan so he takes his chances and pours his everything into destroying the seal. except this time hes a little more powerful than he wouldve been if he was mortal and he levels part of the burial mounds before he went. and thus was the last of wwx.

or was it ?

the world believes wwx to be dead ("good riddance") but actually hes still kicking and in a more incorporeal form. he had to retreat somewhere deep in the burial mounds to recover and thus was unable to see that lwj had come back and taken a severely feverish a-yuan with him. wwx thinks everyone is dead and gone and everything was all for naught so he stews in his mistakes and tries to repent while stitching himself back together.

sometime after, he ends up in mount tonglu which was reopened because the aftershocks of the destruction of the stygian tiger seal were strong enough to disturb mount tonglu's magma chamber of resentment basically. so for ~12 years wwx was in there fighting his way thru which was why he didnt answer to lwj's calls

wwx survives as the last standing ghost after the slaughter and stews in the kiln for another month and a half or so. this would be around the time mxy is preparing to summon wwx's ghost for the summoning.

so imagine wwx just came out of the thing as a newly minted supreme/ghost king and hes immediately yanked to where mxy is. wwx's soul isnt stuffed into mxy's newly-emptied physical body since hes a ghost king this time around. still, he helps mxy but in the shadows bc hes still not keen on getting yoinked just when he returned to the mortal world.

everything proceeds as canon, with wwx sharing mxy's body via possession at some points for the comedy gold and the bit (because he would !! let the man be silly)

after that he absolutely yanks mxy outta there after lwj arrives (just after he spends like 5 minutes staring at lwj's beauty of course) and decides hes gonna adopt this sad little wet cat and teach him the actual proper ways of cultivation and steer him away from demonic cultivation bc tbh it's just not worth it esp since mxy has a golden core and who knows how demonic cultivation will affect a golden core-

anyways

wwx decides to do a silly little makeover so he wouldnt be recognised by any of his old acquaintances. his new appearance ends up a weird lil mix between himself and mxy, enough to claim that theyre distant cousins and normal rogue cultivators just starting out. wwx plans on taking his new charge around the country and away from the sects after he learned the godawful way the lanling jin have treated mxy

"single parenthood will be hard, but this father will make sure you get the best life on the road, my sweet little loquat." "you barely look older than me to be my father, wei-qianbei" "shush let me have this"

their traveling is off to a good start. but then dafan mountain happens and holy shit wen ning is still alive(?? technically ??) and holy shit why the fuck is everyone from wwx's previous life gathering here and holy shit did he just insult his shijie's son and-

why the fuck are they going with the gusu lan cultivators

what the fuck just happened

what

anyways

wwx introduces himself as a golden core-less distant mo cousin ("had an unfortunate run-in with the core melting hand back then") who used to be a rogue cultivator back in the day and is now dabbling with the art of talisman making and definitely isnt practicing demonic cultivation no siree

somehow he and mxy end up separated as lwj and wwx go to investigate the severed arm together and mxy ends up going w the juniors with a lil encouragement from wwx

"youll have a better time socialising with people your age, little loquat" "wei-qianbei plz ,,, u just want to go w hanguang-jun alone dont u" "lmao hahahahah who said that"

wwx is absolutely having the time of his life roleplaying a damsel in distress while being completely oblivious to the bone chilling fear he induces in their undead opponents. he invents silly little talismans to help hanguang-jun in battle. hes a little perplexed at how much shit lwj is letting him get away with.

hes also 90% sure lwj has figured out that hes a ghost and hes sweating like a sinner in church deep inside

i havent thought of much past this but heres some more tidbits of info that i thought about

at some point wwx is made aware of his infamy as the "Devil Flute Upon Graves". his self destruction at the burial mounds wiped out most of the vengeful ghosts in that area and, as mentioned before, shook mount tonglu w enough resentful energy to bust it open

wwx has an army of ghostly corvids that are essentially made of condensed resentful energy. they are also sort of empathetically connected to him ??? so theyre also chatty, yappy things who are extra fond of lwj and the junior ducklings

actually wwx's entire being post-supreme promotion is just condensed resentful/yin energy and being in his presence should be dangerous for regular ppl and cultivators alike but (a) he has mastered the art of keeping the effects contained within himself and (b) existing within the same space as lwj and doing their everyday means that their yin and yang energy are constantly balancing each other out to the point where it just naturally and passively happens. lwj literally dampens wwx's natural heebie jeebie vibes bc of good dick

because hes made up of yin energy, this does mean that it's ridiculously easy for him to switch back and forth between a male and female form. he usually ends up walking around in an androgynous form that leans towards a healthier, happier looking yiling laozu

VERY IMPORTANT ADDITION: yes ofc wwx gives lwj his ashes. it's in the form of an ornament. idk where to hang it tho. maybe wangji-guqin ? or his belt ? still debating on it for sure

the burial mounds are regarded in the ghost realm as his territory now and the ghost realm and heavenly court wait w baited breath to see what this new ghost king would do

the answer is he gallivants all over the damn continent with his new cultivator husband and their gaggle of children. wwx really dgaf about anything else really, he just wants to be Wife and Teacher

the wen remnants are given a second chance at life by wwx himself after the second siege of the burial mounds and they now live a happy afterlife at wwx's new ghost town where their old settlement used to be

he and hua cheng get along by virtue of being former street kids who just want to hang out w their godly spouses and their conversations together are just praise after praise for said godly spouses

wwx's birbs do eat hua cheng's butterflies and it's a frequent point of contention. no harm is done to the butterflies tho, the birbs just spit them out whole bc they taste absolutely nasty/poisonous

wwx 🤝 xie lian : little to no self-preservation instincts. they just want to help people okay !!

after the entire guanyin temple ordeal wwx ends up with a worshipped godly aspect whose primary place of worship is in yiling, who still remember the yiling laozu who just wanted to help his little family survive to the next day. to them, wwx became the god of innovation, ingenuity, and protection

he also becomes the patron god of street children ??? he just finds himself helping street kiddos and taking in vengeful ghost children because it was what he needed back when he was a kid okay ??? hes just using his powers for good, thats all

mxy is taken in by the gusu lan clan where he ends up become a promising candidate as a talisman master, thanks to wwx's encouragement and guidance

also !! it turns out more than a couple of other ppl ascended into the heavenly court, namely:

- jiang yanli ascended as the new water master, while jin zixuan became a martial god. shes a goddess of abundance, the home, and reconciliation. hes a god of wealth, fortune, and justice - nie mingjue also ascended to become a martial god after his spirit was laid to rest. he was supposed to ascend naturally but jin guangyao's bullshit derailed his fate. - wen qing ascended to become a medical master/goddess of medicine and sacrifice tho shes also kind of infamous for her friendship with devil flute upon graves. but nobody can say shit cz if they do say shit then they wld also be saying shit abt hualian and they dont want to deal with two calamities up their ass

thats all i can yap abt rn but i might add more we dunno

[serpentface]

First Goose of Spring: What was it like living in Cynozepal?

"...I haven't actually seen much of it, but the kingslek had the most stunning view of the mountains. They rise higher than anything you've ever seen, I'm sure, all the way up to the clouds. And our serfs actually live up there! It must be awful, braving the heights and fending off those little qilik barbarians. But we are a very strong people, so they manage just fine.

But the kingslek was the very best place in Cynozepal. It had everything you could possibly want. There was a garden with a little herd of horses living in it, and a spring to bathe in, and musicians and singers, and plenty of good food and wine, and the finest cushions to sleep on, and a HUGE library that had every book in the civilized world, probably? And there were always tons of servants around to care for us. My handmaid, Gray Gull Comes Home Wealthy With Fish - may her next birth be prosperous - lived in the kingslek too. Because she used to be a concubine, I guess? And she was the best of all. I never learned to read like my older sisters did - may their next births be prosperous -, but she would read to me whenever I wanted so it was okay.

So obviously I never wanted to leave. But my sisters and I had to leave the kingslek sometimes. Like when our mothers and father had very, very important guests, or when there was an execution, or for the solstice songs. And this was always a dreadful bore. But Gray Gull Comes Home Wealthy With Fish would always bring my favorite books along, so it wasn't TOO bad. And she would always, ALWAYS carry me there on her back. Until I got too big, but we have litters for that.

And now, I am expected to walk everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Or fly like a serf, sun be swallowed. I hate it here."

---

Notes:

-Goose is the absolute worst source to to ask about life in Cynozepal. First and foremost, she's a young child and hasn't been on this earth all that long (she's cognitively equivalent to a human preteen, and is 5 years old). As the third youngest princess among 39 daughters, Goose spent the vast majority of her life both cloistered in the kingslek (which is a privilege) while experiencing little to no pressure to excel and being minimally educated (as she was exceptionally unlikely to be married into an important political role). She would leave this space only infrequently, and never once stepped foot outside of the palace grounds prior to her dynasty's fall.

...And she LOVED it. Now she’s out seeing the world firsthand, breathing the fresh air and feeling the ground beneath her feet, and it fucking suuuuuckkkkkssssss, man.

-The kingslek refers both to the collective women in a royal family (wives, concubines, daughters, all of whom will typically outnumber the men at LEAST 20:1) and the domestic space in which they live. This is a massive section of the palace (as it houses most of the members) complete with its own amenities, gardens, etc. It is functionally the center of power and politics within the palace (the culture itself is not outright matriarchal, but the institution of the kingslek effectively has more political power than the king, and tremendous sway on his actions).

-Honeythief is translating for her. He frequently manipulates his translations to make her sound a little more down to earth (but still regal and far, far more important than you) and less like an exceptionally ignorant, spoiled child, but his translation here is accurate.

-Crown Cynozepali language is (and a majority of caelin and delkhin languages are) predominantly tonal in nature, supplemented with rapid clicks and deep booming 'drum' beats (it is these aspects that are physically impossible for humans to accurately reproduce). To a human ear, these languages often sound like vaguely musical but discordant barrage of sounds. I'm attempting to represent this visually with dots and squiggles.

-'Little qilik barbarians' is not referring to qilik of the region as a whole. She is referring disparagingly to the Cu-Chukka, which are a people that traditionally inhabit the higher reaches of the Azure Mountains, and do not frequently interact with the Crown Cynozepali sphere outside of land conflicts with serfs (who build their homes at high altitudes and often encroach on Cu-Chukka territory). 'Barbarian' in this context is a racist and xenophobic insult that groups together all qilik, caelin, and delkhin peoples that do not speak Crown.

Honeythief is Chit-Sut-Susit (a nationality native to parts of eastern Cynozepal and the Ch'Chen plateau, most of whom exist within the Crown cultural sphere), and is not receiving a microaggression in this particular context.

-Crown Cynozepali personal names are descriptive phrases. Song and poetry is of central cultural import, and naming conventions are rooted in these poetic traditions, designed to be beautiful and evocative turns of phrase. This is often lost in translation, and the names take substantially longer to speak when translated into most human languages.

-There are taboos surrounding speech that evokes the recently dead (defined as within a solar year), that require additions of placating phrases that will dissuade the dead from attaching to the speaker and direct them towards a good rebirth. "May her next birth be prosperous" is one example. Goose's handmaid and most if not all of her sisters (among other relations) were killed in the coup.

-The 'solstice songs' refer to traditional 'boomsinging' performed at the summer and winter equinox to call down the Solar Dragon. (boomsinging is an artform utilizing the deep, thunderous vocalizations caelin and delkhin can produce- sounds like a combination of throat singing, drum beats, and a noise kind of like a sage grouse display but deeper. The sound can travel for miles)

-'Sun be swallowed' is a translation of a phrase used to (often hyperbolically) emphasize the horror and depravity of a situation. Kind of saying 'what's next? the end of the world?'.

-Kingslek members and royalty as a whole are transported from place to place in litters and carriages, but they aren't carried literally Everywhere (they do like, walk). Goose recalling constantly riding on the back of her handmaid is describing a time where she was a tiny 5 lb child (a phase in life where most caelin and delkhin children will ride on their mother's backs).

[silentmoths]

Some HSR Thirsts

Because I've been fucking star-railed this last week and also I promised @dustofthedailylife that I would write a svarog thirst if she finally pulled welt. so since this exists, you can guess what happened!

Svarog/Yaoshi/Kafka x Reader

NSFW, nothing explicit perse but all very heavily implied, Robot/monsterfucking, does fucking a god cound as monsterfucking?, Svarog is a giant vibrator, Yaoshi and their many hands, also Yaoshi having an aphrodesiac venom in their scorpion tail, maybe a little implied dubcon in kafkas case? I dont...think it is but its there as a warning in case.

Ok but Svarog, who definitely knows what sex is, of course he does, he has an entire database to access, and lets face it, this man has probably already accessed it when looking up ‘how to parent’ information because at one point or another he’s going to have to give clara ‘the talk’

(no, we wont talk about how his version of the talk is going to be the most embarrassingly clinical talk ever to exist. rest in peace clara.)

But he does not, for the love of anything, understand why you want to have sex…with him.

Nonetheless, he does not stop your hands roaming his chest plates, he doesn’t really stop you from doing… anything really, because… whatever this is  makes you happy, and that’s all he wants. 

He’s confused when you ask him to touch you, but he does it anyway, all while sifting through his databanks to figure out both why and where. 

This is also the day you discover that Svarog has an… interesting vibration function in his hands that he claims was once for easing stiff muscles of his old human commanders before he was abandoned.

Yeah it’ll sure ease you alright.

Admittedly…he does like watching you squirm…it does… something to his servos.

Though, he thinks he may have created a monster, because now every day, without fail…you’re asking him for a hand. 

Perhaps one day, when he has done enough research…he might just reveal that one…extra modification that had been made to him before everything went to shit.

One day he will allow you to delve below his trousers and maybe one day he will use that…modification, to finally give you what you want, since it seems you’re unwilling to find another mortal to fornicate with.

Besides

perhaps …clara could do with a mother figure around.

----------

Some say the Aeon Yaoshi, of the Abundance, is a cruel and evil creature.

This does not stop you from seeking Their favour.

However when they finally do appear before you, you get so much more.

Six hands, long and delicate, trailing your skin as they pull you close, unearthly voice whispering in your ear, telling you they’ve heard every prayer, every plead and call for them; how they’ve been watching you all this time, and now they have come to bestow the blessing you’ve been seeking.

But only if you can endure one last trial.

In some depictions you had found, Yaoshi is endowed with a scorpion's tail, so it isn’t a shock when the appendage curls around your body, the tip pricking into your thigh. You feel the warmth of the poison spread through your body and you moan for it. Yaoshi only hums their praise 

Their venom makes you feel warm and fuzzy, it makes their touch intense and vivid, most of all…

it makes you want to give yourself over entirely

You feel hands touch places that have never been touched by another, you feel their teeth and their tongue. You hear their praises.

And then you wake, in your bed. 

At first, you think it was a dream, but then you sit up.

You were naked, your muscles ached, but it was a sweet ache, soft around the edges, and there on your thigh, where they had stung you with their venom…

the symbol of abundance

----------

Soft hands, and an even softer voice, leave you weak in the knees.

“Ready to talk yet?” Kafka muses quietly as she presses a single finger to your collarbone, and you immediately fall back against the table, your arms still bound behind your back. 

You should be struggling. You should be fighting back.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on by the stellaron hunter who had kidnapped you, and was now apparently intent on interrogating you.

“You’ll….have to try harder than that.” you rasp, trying to sound intimidating. 

By the way Kafka’s smile widens ever so slightly, it’s failed completely, and you’re once again left reeling as she approaches, leaning over you like a cat who’s just caught their mouse.

“Will I?” her voice is so soft, and yet so very dangerous as her ruby eyes narrow in on your face “My…are we a little smitten? Your face is all red.” 

Goddamn it.

“I’d never-”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She interjects as she perches on the edge of the table beside where you lay, she shoots you a look…an expression you can’t quite discern for a moment, until you realise her own eyes are raking down your body.

hungrily.

You watch her bring her hand to her mouth, teeth closing around the finger of her glove before pulling the offending article off; your heart is jackrabbiting in your chest.

“I think…” she hums as she leans back over you, magenta hair falling between you both like a waterfall. This was dangerous, so very dangerous.

But the moment her hand presses against your belly, and slowly begins its slow gaze downward, pressing shamelessly beneath the waistband of your bottoms? You’re a goner.

“I think I have other ways to make you sing that we’ll both enjoy…don't you think?”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

I will be starting a Starrail specific taglist shortly so if you want in on that let me know!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Demons are a girl’s best friend

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

You hide from the rain in a church, not knowing a very interesting beast already claimed the place as his home.

Anon requested Monsterfucker!reader x Were!Daryl, with some preg and pups!

The church building was in a good state, within a gate that seemed to hold up surprisingly well against dead. It had been used to house the religious folks of the town when the problems first started and had housed many more groups for short period of time before they too moved on in search for something permanent.

The place was good, but didn’t house people anymore. Nowadays it was covered with warning signs sprayed with graffiti warding off anyone attempting to enter.

A once human man made himself at home in the place, needing a roof and walls now too with his home in the woods constantly being overrun by the dead. Except these days he no longer resembled a man. The only evidence of him ever being one was still tucked in a pocket of the old, army green bag he carried around that now held his most common clothes. Among those a leather motorcycle vest with tattered wings stitched on the back, and a wallet with the long expired ID of a blue eyed young man named Daryl Dixon.

You could handle a little rain, but the rate it was coming down now was a little too much for you.

Making your way around to find a place to hide you came across an small church.

You hated churches in the old world. Their people were never your people but now you thanked the building being empty and available to you.

The interior still kept its beautifully made details, now graffiti’d over and makeshift fabric walls hung in places. The pews had been moved for space too.

It all looked like it was used at the start as a safe house.

You were gonna stay and made sure to barricade the doors to keep unwanted guests out, dead or alive, while you slept.

Moving some pews against the doors took longer than you hoped, even when you took the closest ones.

You were tired now. Tired and ready to pass out for the night and pray the storm was over by then.

But a low growl scared you wide awake again. You just blocked your way out and didn’t check the building for walkers first. The scraping of the wood over the floor must have woken them up..

You mentally cursed at yourself for being so extremely stupid, keeping quiet to not further announce your location while you snuck off. With a hand on your hip you remembered taking off your knife belt and leave it at your bag. In the same direction the growling came from, right behind a fake wall.

“Fuck me..”

You were officially done with this world. You rounded the place to get a view of what you were dealing with while also trying to find anything that could function as a weapon, picking up a candle holder on your way and taking the candle itself off to use the iron spike at the top.

You kept low to the ground, hiding behind anything you could use as a cover. The growling had stopped and sounds of buckles undoing and items moving around had stared before the growling picked up again, now right where your bag sat. You could have sworn you heard your knife belt hit the ground and your bag scoot over the ground. It sounded heavy, so it had to be. There was nothing else there.

Now that you were thinking about your bag, you let out a sigh remembering you could have hung your dirty clothes out In the rain to at least rinse them and dry them over a fire later.

You were almost where you needed to be to get your items and enemy into view.

Just a few more steps and—

With a loud clatter the candle holder fell rom your hands at the sight of what was rummaging in your bag.

He had his head stuck in your bag, soft muffled growls sounding from it. His wrapped tail wagged happily.

You knew immediately what he was, and understood it was easier to survive while keeping the form he kept now. If it had been anyone else standing in your place they probably would have ran, but you were a little too distracted by the beast currently going through your bag with the largest hard-on you had ever seen.

Mind you, you had seen some impressive ones before, seeing monsters weren’t too rare in your area before the world went to shit, but this beast in its entirety was huge.

Probably not a city wolf.

At the clattering sound the beast pulled his head rom your bag, your dirty laundry hanging off his muzzle.

Your panties, to be precise..

Your hands were up in defeat, but your eyes kept going between his own, and the angry red cock between his legs. A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth and your mouth spoke before your mind could stop the words from flowing.

“You know it tastes way better from the source, right?”

The beast shook the panties off his face, slobbering all over the scattered contents of your bag in the process and looking you dead in the eyes while licking his lips. A large paw moved from the floor to find his member and give it a few tugs, letting out a satisfied growl as he kept his eyes on yours.

You watched him, almost hypnotized. He knew exactly what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. You could feel yourself getting wetter but never moved an inch to get closer to him where he stood over your bag and weapons.

He did look very handsome. Strong too, he could snap you in half with one hand.

“C’mere.” The hand that was touching himself before how reached out for you, precum staining the pads of his fingers.

You weren’t gonna make him ask twice and stepped closer to him and watched him stand up to his full height, ending with his chest at your eye level. The extended hand reached for your face, stopping in front of your mouth. “Clean up.”

You stared at the glistening liquid covering his paw pads before taking his hand in yours and gently licking his thumb clean, giving the pad a kiss before moving on to the next one.

While you worked you felt tugging at the waist of your pants, the button being torn off not so gently and pulling the zipper in half along with it.

“Hey, those were my good pants..” you pouted against his middle finger, lips resting against the skin but your whines were ignored as he kept tearing the fabric further and continuing with your sweater. He urged you on to continue cleaning his paw instead of moping over lost clothes. “Got spares, go on.” His muzzle was right next to your ear as he moved in to sniff at you from up close, taking in your sweet scent and let out a hum.

By the time you had his paw cleaned you were stripped bare, only remains of pant legs and boots.

The cold air hitting your skin had you shiver, now really feeling how wet you were getting.

With both hands available again you were grabbed by the hips and manhandled onto one of the wooden pews, ass right on the edge and legs held wide open. “Be’er from’e source, hm?”

The anticipation was killing you, reaching for the long tufts of fur on his head and pulling his muzzle against you.

With his nose pressed against your clit he let out a growl at your hair pulling, which you took note of and tucked the info away for later.

A large claw came to rest on either of your thighs and the rough surface of a huge tongue slid across your lips. With a little prying and prodding your hips jerked at the sudden intrusion, feeling his tongue slip deep inside while his jaws opened wide enough to wrap around your lower end. He was holding you up now as he shoved his tongue in and out of you, making sure to not break your skin on his fangs.

His rough ministrations had you moaning in mere seconds. "Fuckk, you know what you're doing, huh.." your hands found purchase at the base of his ears, rubbing the thin flesh between your fingers and pulled a moan from the beast between your legs that vibrated deep inside of you.

You felt his tongue brush against your most sensitive spot, making your grasp on his ears tighten and pulling another whine from him. It made your walls clench around him, signaling you were close.

"Keep going.. please.." You tugged softly on his ears, moving your hands into his long fur and pull at it hard to make him let out those vibrating growls two, three times before squeezing your walls tight around his tongue as you tipped over the edge. You slumped against the wooden bench and let go of his fur, watching him pull away from you slowly, sitting on his haunches in front of you and going back to paw at his cock and lick his lips.

"Now you." His mouth formed a wide grin as he moved himself to sit on the wooden pew next to you, moving to pull you to your knees in front of him. "Go on."

You stared at the large member in front of your face, trying to find the easiest approach to get this done.

You started off with simple licks to get a taste, all the way from the base up to the tip before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently. You had to keep your jaw wide open to fit only his tip inside and almost gagged on him already.

"Ahhw.." Two padded fingers stroked your hair, his claws never touching your skin. The fingers moved to the back of your head and pressed, shoving himself all the way against the back of your throat causing you to gag and pull back. You coughed while he let out a laugh. "S'rry.." the chuckle in his voice was a clear sign he didn't mean it in the slightest but you let it slip.

You cleared your throat and moved to get back to work but were stopped by a pointed claw against the chest.

"Wha, huh? I thought you wanted me to return the favor?" You stayed seated before him and watched him move off the pew and onto his knees in front of you.

“S’fine.” His mind wandered, looking you up and down to take in your details, taking in your scent that was almost addictive. He took both your hands and placed them on his cock for you to play with before his hands found your head and pulled you closer, his nose pressed against yours. After a short moment his head tilted slightly, for a quick moment resembling an adorable confused dog before his mouth opened and he licked across your mouth. A broad stripe from cheek to cheek that had you involuntarily smile in response, barely parting your lips but just far enough for him to prod his tongue in between.

Your hands worked as best as they could on his length while the again fucked your mouth, this time without making you gag on him. You wanted to kiss back, but swirling your tongue around his was the best you could do for now until he stopped and pulled away again.

He looked around the place, towards your bag and bedroll. “Tha’ soft?” His paw was pointed at the rolled up thick fabric attached to your bag and got a confused yes that lead to him going to fetch it and lay it out on the ground. “Go ahead.”

“You want me to go lay down?” He nodded and you made your way down on the soft bedding. “Hmhmm, no fur. Cold floor, s’bad.” He followed your movements with his own, ending up hovering above you. His paw lifted and moved down to your core, mimicking the motions he remembered from his days as a human but stopping right above you. You followed his gaze down and saw him stare at his hand. Instead of asking him what was wrong you took two of his fingers and pressed them to your clit, carefully moving them around making you jerk up your hips in excitement. “Like that, jus the pads. S’good..”a The roughness of his fingers was a welcome feeling and you saw the tense energy leave your companion too now that he was pleasing you properly.

You reached out for him but your hands couldn’t make it all the way down to his cock. Instead they found purchase in the shorter fur of his chest, kneading the soft muscle underneath. Light scratches and squeezes made him purr above you, joining your mewls.

“Want it in, tha’ okay?” He was nuzzling your neck as he lowered himself to lay on top of you, grumbling something as he couldn’t get comfortable.

“Get comfortable.” You moved yourself up on your elbows. “We’ll make it work, big guy.”

He was sitting on his haunches and looked between the two of you before moving to lower him to his knees, his back paws stretched underneath him so his crotch was lower to the ground. With a satisfied nod he took your hips in his hands and pulled you up against him, hips in his lap with your legs spread and shoulders still on the soft bedding beneath you. “This good?” His deep voice was comforting, making sure you were okay.

“I’m good, puppy. Don’t worry about me.” You reached your hand down to pat his thigh. “I’ll make myself known if if hurts.”

Ears perked up at being called a puppy. He wasn’t a puppy, he was a monster. Did you really feel like he wasn’t s threat? You did invite him to do this to you without hesitation after all.

You intrigued him from the moment you spoke your first words to him. And it didn’t help he found you incredibly attractive. He could have easily used you for his pleasure and snap your neck afterwards but he felt drawn to you. He had to think of a way to ask you to stay after the storm passed.

He kept one hand on your hip to keep you steady as the other one moved to rub his tip between your folds, gathering slick before pressing in the tiniest bit. He watched you like a hawk for any signs of discomfort, stopping at even the smallest grimace as he stretched you further than anyone ever had.

And hurt it did, but your constant reassuring had him slowly continue to rut his hips into you, pushing further in inch by inch.

“You hurt.” A rough paw wiped away a tear on your cheek and stopped moving again.

“I’m fine, you’re just so big, baby..” You added a little wiggle of your hips at the end of your sentence to add extra reassurance.

Gods, the compliments you gave him went straight through him, urging him on to keep going until his legs gave out. But he knew better and kept up with your body’s limits. It’s why it took him a while to be fully sheathed inside of you with his knot pressing snug against your lips.

Tongue was lolled out of his mouth by now and you were breathing heavy but smiling, your hand moving to poke at your stomach that showed how deep he was buried. “Fuck, that’s insane. Hot though.” You squeezed around his length, telling him to start moving and he did, slow thrusts at first that had you whine with the slight discomfort.

The feeling quickly faded and turned into pleasure, leaving you a moaning mess in his lap until he pulled out and moved you onto your stomach.

You audibly complained at the loss of contact but almost screamed when he crawled over you to pull your hips up and shove himself inside again, one quick move to be buried entirely.

Immediately his muzzle was buried in your neck again, lapping and sniffing, mumbling from time to time as well as he kept rutting into you. “Hmhmm smell so sweet,” he lapped at your ear, your jaw and your neck before licking right down your spine and pressing his nose to your skin. “Smell good for breeding..”

You moaned underneath him, barely registering his words. “Whatever you want baby, just keep doing what you’re doing.” You tried to reach for him but you had no strength left in your body. With your face against the floor you didn’t see him raise his brows in interest. He thought of pulling out before he came, earlier. Shoving himself down your throat and make you swallow it all but that quickly changed to doing exactly as he said.

One of his hands on your hips moved to rub his pads over your clit, making you moan out loud. Your clenching signaled him you were close and set a pace to work himself towards the end as well.

Your moans and whines were music to his ears, you sounded so pretty. He could barely contain himself already and then with a long drawn out cry you came around his cock, squeezing you walls and making him howl.

A deep, rumbling howl as he thrusted deep into you, taking two or three tries to shove his knot past your lips and finishing deep inside you.

The extra stretch hurt like a bitch, but it was so worth the pain.you got to spend the night with a gorgeous creature and cuddle with him too for the time it took his knot to deflate.

“Ya okay?” He was back to lapping at your cheek and nuzzling you affectionately.

“Hmm yeah, all good.” You nodded and moved a hand to pet his head, rubbing your fingers over his ear again to earn a soft hum. “M’happy.”

He held your hip in one hand and your chest against his in the other and moved to lay down with you, getting you positioned right so you wouldn’t be hurting.

You were resting on his stomach, head on his chest as you began to wonder. “Hey, do you have a name?”

His large paws came to rest on your back, mindlessly drawing figures on your skin. “Yeah. M’Daryl.”

You played with his long fur and smiled, giving him your name in return. “Well, goodnight, Daryl.”

Weeks passed after that night and a lot happened in you’re the small church that had become your home after the stormy night.

It was only a couple days later that you found out Daryl had in fact done what he promised and had knocked you up. A week later you woke up from your sleep in pain, crying into Daryl’s chest as he held you, unsure what to do against the pains of your body changing to carry his pups. You slept through the entire next day while Daryl hunted for food and brought back some fish in the meantime.

You had just finished eating and sat in one of the pews staring at your stomach. That night spent in pain resulted in what you could only describe as canine teats, small nubs on your belly that had started to round out by now.

When Daryl saw them in the morning after you both passed out he was beyond excited. You had asked him what it meant and got scared by accident when he told you “puppies, many.”.

You weren’t against the idea of pups at all, you were excited even, but the many part was what had you feeling scared. Daryl made sure to comfort and ensure you everything was going to be okay.

And he was right. At almost three months you could barely walk, but you were doing totally fine.

Daryl wasn’t enjoying the fact that he had to leave you alone to go hunt, but you needed food now more than before. To his luck he found a deer that would feed you at least until the pups arrived if you rationed it well, so he didn’t have to leave your side again.

Daryl made it clear he was enjoying you a lot in your current state, resting his head against your belly and purring, speaking soft words while he thinks you sleep. Words of love and adoration, sometimes of worry, but those never linger.

At each and every mewl of being uncomfortable he’d be on you for comfort, be it carefully kneading your muscles, holding your belly to relief some weight or lap wt your sore breasts. He’d happily take any leaked milk as thanks for the care.

It was the middle of the day, you were relaxing in a beam of sunlight that came through the stained glass windows and painted you in many colors.

“Daryl?” You had been feeling uncomfortable ever since you woke up the day before but it had gotten way worse all of a sudden. Tightening muscles had you double over in moments, suddenly feeling weight shift low inside of you. He was on you the second his name left your lips, feeling around your stomach and up your skirt before stopping and pulling his hand away. “You feel and talk. Can’t touch ya, claws..” he wiggled his fingers in your view before helping you back onto the nest you built in preparation for this, needing to stop every few steps because of the contractions. “Ya good? M’sorry t’hurts.”

You could only nod and hold onto your painful belly as you sat against the stuffed bags, breathing through contractions while Daryl unwrapped your skirt and took your hand, trying to place it between your legs but your belly made it almost impossible to reach. “Just leave it be, we got this.” You tried to sound convincing but it was clear the nerves had kicked in.

“Strong momma, you.” His muzzle nudged the underside of your belly as he inspected your progress as best as he could, trying to spread your lips with just the pads of his fingers and feeling them bulge outward with each of your cries. “You see anything?” You managed to ask between deep breaths, getting an eager nod in response. “Snout. Good work.” A soft pat on your thigh added to the compliment.

Daryl watched you work, his large hands holding your thighs spread until one moved to cradle your first pup’s head. “Bit more, then a break.”

You huffed at his comment, but pushed hard to get your first child out of you, groaning in relief as you felt it slip out entirely.

“Good momma.” Daryl laid the pup down between his arms and started to clean as you caught your breath before the second pup made itself known. You wanted to see so bad, but you never got the time to look as the second one came a lot quicker than the first. It hurt less but still took effort, listening to Daryl’s short updates and commands and feeling his hands move around you between pushes.

The sun had gotten down by the time you were all done. You were on fresh sheets instead of laying in the soaked ones from before and all your puppies were laying comfortably against your skin, squeaking softly as they were suckling away. Four little creatures, cleaned up by Daryl the second they were out of you.

And Daryl? He was curled up in front of you, watching the most beautiful scene he had ever witnessed. He stared at the puppies, up your figure and to your face, where he found you staring right at him. “They’re so small,” he watched your hand reach of the pups and pet its head. “so weird, seeing how big you are.”

A low rumbling laugh left him as his hand joined yours, softly running a knuckle along the back of the pup. “No worries, momma.” He moved to stretch and lay down even closer, his nose an inch from your chest where the first pup nursed, and his tail resting over your legs. “Lil’ ones grow big fast.”

He couldn’t do anything but stare, feeling his mind wander to the days of chasing the pups through the woods behind the church and teaching them how to hunt while you foraged. But he also admitted to himself he enjoyed being inside with you while you carried his children. He quickly told himself off, not allowing himself to even think about asking you for the next few months. The two of you first needed to figure out being parents in this new world.

[fastboatsmojito]

Nightmares - Scott Miller

| a/n; this isn’t technically for Moontober bc nightmares is day twenty seven and I have something different planned, but I woke up about an hour ago from a nightmare myself and this felt like the appropriate response tbh

| cw; just some angst and a little fluff, talk about nightmares, probably very self-indulgent idk what to tell you, one bed trope whoops, not super proofread as per the tags <3

| wc; 800

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You woke up suddenly, out of breath and sweaty, sitting up and trying to will yourself into thinking about anything else.

“Jesus, you alright?” There was an unfamiliar softness in his voice, probably just from being woken up by your panicked breaths, though you jumped anyway, shaky as you looked over at him, uncharacteristic worry on his face as he sat up.

“Shit sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Just a bad dream.” You mumbled, words caught in the back of your throat proving difficult to come out, both exhausted from a restless sleep and energized from the pure panic and anxiety. That was always the worst part, being too scared of your own subconscious to go back to bed, involuntarily keeping yourself awake to stop yourself from drifting back into the personal hell you’d found yourself in before.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” His voice still came out low, though the gruff from not having talked on purpose quite yet was peeking through. He wasn’t too sure how to comfort anyone at all - questioning himself more than you, you weren’t so used to it either; his words rather than his voice alone surprising you this time.

You shook your head, less responding to his question - though it sufficed, more trying to shake out the mental picture and get your brain to function correctly because it wasn’t difficult to understand nightmares but understanding why they happen didn’t seem to help much.

You had a sleep journal, you corrected them as best you could in your head after writing them down, you drank stress relieving tea and read articles and books on dream study and what it all means and it helps but it doesn’t fix the deepest, strangest anxieties that build up over time. The bizarre collection of everything you’ve thought about in the last month coming back to haunt you in a way that feels personal because it is.

Your brain knows the absolute worst combination of everything you’ve thought about or seen or heard, and if you eat too much fucking dairy or think about one specific thing for just the right amount of too much time, none of the rest of it matters anymore. And maybe you weren’t doing enough but maybe you just needed someone to tell you that it wasn’t real because hearing it from yourself so often was getting a little old and -

The tears were sudden - they usually are, soft and warm running down your face and you didn’t notice until a tear dropped down onto the hand still clutching your chest.

And then a warm hand was cautiously rubbing your back and your overly-worried coworker was trying to understand. Surprising himself again when a simply reassuring ‘you’re alright’ found its way out of his mouth, yawning quietly after and probably trying not to roll back over and fall asleep - bless him.

If it were just a few days ago you would’ve been shocked at the mere fact you were even in the same bed - a little mixup caused by none other than Javi, but sharing a room was excuse enough to get a little too comfortable for ‘professionalism’.

You gave up on the whole ‘oh I’ll just sleep on this tiny, uncomfortable chair for a few days until it’s sorted’ act days ago, diluting your dignity and climbing into bed with your similarly less than enthusiastic coworker who gave up on that shtick after the first night.

He wanted to go back to sleep - he really did, his eyes were practically closing themselves. But he surely couldn’t sleep next to someone actively crying and though he could be mean and - more accurately; a dick, he wasn’t completely emotionless. In fact he found himself scared that you were hurt or something was wrong and he had no way of fixing it when he woke up to your rushed breaths next to him. He still wasn’t sure he could really do anything, he didn’t tend to have dreams very much at all let alone bad ones.

There was no protocol to go over in his head about comforting a coworker-turned-roommate after a nightmare. He couldn’t exactly control your brain for you, though after a second thought he would if it’d help more than the apprehensive hand on your back.

Once you’d calmed yourself down enough and wiped the slowest string of tears from your cheeks you turned to look at Scott with something akin to a smile in the darkness.

Hoping that it made up for the lack of spoken gratitude that was clouded up in the panic in your head for the quiet comfort he wasn’t really looking to be thanked for anyway.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Under the cut: a snippet from another random Jily oneshot I started a while back and have never been arsed to finish.

There are terrible venues at which to stage a first date, and then there's a noodle canteen.

Admittedly, a noodle canteen is not the worst place for a first date—his mate Peter once brought a girl to a family funeral—but it is the worst kind of restaurant.

Reason one of two: James can't even order the fucking noodles that the aforementioned noodle canteen is known for. He is not particularly skilled in the art of using chopsticks, and even on a fork, noodles have a pesky habit of sliding off and spattering sauce everywhere, which is a first date Don't. A first date faux pas. A first date tragedy. James only ever goes to this place for its teriyaki salmon soba, but the risk to his shirt and his dignity is too great.

He orders the spicy miso mackerel instead, which comes with brown rice and is tasty, but decidedly not salmon-esque.

Reason two of two: it's a noodle canteen. He and his date aren't sequestered away at a private table, where any other major mistake on his part might go unnoticed by all but the woman he's with, but jammed right at the end of a busy public bench. To James's left sits a man who could easily be found walking calmly away from an explosion in a major Hollywood blockbuster, manoeuvring chopsticks through his own noodles with silky expertise while he listens to his stunning girlfriend talk about some prick from her work, who sounds like a right sort; not that James is eavesdropping, or at least, he'll deny it if anyone asks.

Point is, he's a little off his game.

All right, he's a lot off his game. He's several miles off his game. He'll need to take the Eurostar if he ever hopes to reach the vicinity of his game, but that would leave him in France, which is the only scenario that could make this evening worse.

At the very least, it's warm here in the restaurant. It's colder than his vegetable crisper outside.

"Is your food good?" he asks Chloë from Hinge.

Chloë from Hinge, who suggested the noodle canteen in the first place, pops a generous forkful of kimchee into her mouth and shrugs. "Yeah, it's alright."

James tries not to be put off by the fact that she's speaking to him through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage. Or that they both promised to wear Christmas jumpers on this date and she turned up in a silver halter dress instead.

He wonders if she's spoken through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage because she wants to put him off.

It's not beyond reason to think it. Chloë's interest in James appears to have waned since she asked him for his astrological sign over their gyoza starters and replied, "Wow, huge red flag" upon learning that he is Aries, and with such blunt distaste that he's still not sure if she was joking, because she did not clarify her position during the awkward silence that followed. Everything has been weird since then, with James feeling forced by circumstance to supply most of the conversation while she's stared at him with glazed-over eyes, has not asked to see a single picture of his cat, and winced when she learned that he shares a flat with his brother.

Is that a bad thing, sharing a flat with one's brother at his age?

James is only twenty-five, which is practically the first flush of youth and not nearly old enough to cross the roommate-having threshold that separates "pushing it" from "downright embarrassing." The downright embarrassing age is forty, which he thought everyone knew.

Besides, Sirius hasn't yet learned to function properly without him. He'd forget to take his vitamins and wouldn't set up standing orders to pay his bills, if he didn't live with James. He wouldn't know to separate whites from darks when he laundered his clothes—or maybe he wouldn't launder his clothes, just purchase more clothes whenever they grew dirty. James has had to learn to handle all of that stuff because he lives with Sirius. In many ways, it has been excellent practice for fatherhood, which should count as a plus in his favour. Chloë's profile says she wants to have kids.

And while James is hard-wired to believe that, when it comes to women, he must be the one to blame when things go wrong… he's starting to think that Chloë might be the problem.

He's really not sure what's happened. She called him fit a bunch of times on Hinge, where they got along quite well.

Now she seems annoyed to be here.

If he could, he'd ask the too-attractive and intelligent-seeming couple next to him for their thoughts on the matter, but they're happily enjoying their cherry blossom lemonades and the woman (who is eating teriyaki salmon soba, an extra rub of salt in the wound) has already slanted one-too-many pitying half-smiles in his direction. So she probably thinks the fault all lies with him.

"It's bloody cold out there, isn't it?" he offers, which is just pathetic, really. The weather was the first topic they touched on when they sat down, but she's not been buying anything else he's selling, so here they are again.

His other option is to explain the work that goes into taking care of the adult toddler he lives with, but he doubts that she'll be interested.

"Freezing," Chloë replies, addressing her cabbage.

"Makes me wish I was on a beach somewhere."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Last time I was on holiday I was with my family in Greece. One day it was so hot my mum said you could fry an egg on the ground, so we tried it—my brother and I—but it barely wound up partially cooked," he starts to ramble. "She was all grouchy when we told her about it, said we shouldn't take her words so literally, but she's a chef, so I personally think she was mad that we'd found a chink in her knowledge."

"Mmm," his date agrees. Then she drops her chopstick on the table with an ungainly clatter. "D'you mind if I go to the toilet?"

Freedom! his mind sings. Whole MINUTES of sweet freedom from this torture! "Go right ahead."

Chloë doesn't need telling twice. She slides off the edge of the bench and unfurls at speed, rising to her high-heeled feet with the slightest wobble and shouldering her purse. James watches her retreating back as she hurries away, thankfully (or tragically) in the direction of the toilets, rather than the exit.

He's not sure how he feels about that.

As humiliating as it would be to get ditched in a noodle canteen, the relief of ending this night early would almost be worth the trouble.

With a laboured sigh, he pushes both hands through his rumpled hair once, then bows his head over the long table in a move reminiscent of a lonely Ken, one elbow on either side of his plate, cradling his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

The sooner he gets out of here…

"Sounds like your mother wound up with egg on her face," quips the beefcake.

James lifts his head from his hands at once.

"Oh god, Kingley," the beefcake's stunningly pretty girlfriend (James can only assume she's his girlfriend, like calls to like and all that) groans, regarding him with disgust. "That was too cheesy to stomach, I'm leaving right now."

The beefcake ignores her and twists in his seat to face James. "You know that your date's not interested, yeah?"

"I'd gleaned that."

"I mean it's been painful to witness. Hasn't it?" The beefcake (Kingsley?) turns back around to solicit his companion's opinion, but she merely (kindly?) rolls her eyes and tosses a lock of red hair behind her shoulder with great delicacy and grace. "Just awkward as arse. I'm almost queasy thinking about it."

[celestialholz]

Be still made, my beloved crossbow (or 'let's talk about Durge's other other weapon... and maybe a bit about Stillmaker too')

You've read this post, friends. You know it's true, I know it's true. (And it's bloody beautiful by the way, lovely job @darkurgediaries.)

But wait, there's more.

Let's have a quick chat about the Hellfire Engine Crossbow, because if Stillmaker is Durge's blade from Gortash, this is Durge's side-bitch from him... or it was meant to be, anyway. Man never quite got around to piecing it all together.

Okay, let's start with er... I mean look at it. It's white, has a phoenix head on it - a creature that symbolises resurrection, rebirth and immortality, how very Durge, and is also associated with sun gods when Gortash is this easy to turn into a Lathanderan and that guy brings light to each new day - and it's also embossed with Gortash and the Steel Watch's black and gold motif.

And then you take a mechanical look at it and... hang on.

What are you doing here, Lightning Arrow? The Steel Watch don't have Lightning Arrow, but you know who does have Lightning Arrow? Rangers - archery experts, usually - at level nine and up. And who can we consider that's on level nine and is really good at archery?

And who can we consider who might run out of lightning-basic magic in the heat of battle; who is white, and has a theme of rebirth either by rejecting Daddy Bhaal outright or embracing them anew, and knows a sun-coded Radiant guy, and may once have had business in the Foundry?

Well hello The Dark Urge Vanilla Edition, our old spicy friend. There's also the lovely addition of Reposition Malefactor - Lightning Arrow, grab, Stillmaker stab. Classic Baldurian efficiency.

You know what kills me about Gortash's Radiant coding and Durge's Lightning? The first thing you see of lightning is its flash, its brilliance, and the second thing you see is its destruction. The light isn't the part that hurts you, but it's inextricably linked to the thing itself, just as you can't have the destruction without the light. Symbiosis. Gortash could have been thunder-coded, but... no. Thunder isn't destructive, not usually. It doesn't happen at the same time in the storm.

It's not symbiotic... it's not equal.

... Yeah no, I'm fine, not emotional at all. No sir, could not be me. Despite being level nine too, Gortash doesn't have Lightning Arrow. Why would you need lightning, when your beloved has it in their veins, when you've made them a crossbow specifically for it? You just bring the 'light' part, don't you?

Symbiosis. Peace and love on planet Faerûn. Anyway...

If we must consider the application of Lightning Arrow as a helpful aid to the depleted Storm Sorceror, we should probably consider Stillmaker's equivalent.

Hold Person. Hold. Person. Which, yes - very useful bit of utility for our lovely Durge to have, 100% - but then you consider the fifteen separate dimensions of romantic overtones in Durgetash and you just can't help but feel: Hold Person. It's a bloody hug. It's support. He's made it easier for you to slaughter people, which at least used to be your favourite thing to do.

So Gortash has A. made your murdering life much more fun because you can savour the kill and B. made sure you can still kill from a distance if anyone else happens to be around and you're tired.

What a complete fucking simp. 🥺❤

On the subject of Stillmaker in fact, much as the Fabricated Arbalest to the Hellfire Engine, it's rather different to Durge's main dagger, Bloodthirst.

This is pure function. Made to please Papa in the most gruesome way possible, whichever hand you feel like using to wield it.

Whereas Stillmaker... it's got an attached hug. It's got a wavy blade, perfect for the task of slicing and dicing - one that's very difficult to forge, that must have taken time and care.

... Well. Must have taken a mortal time and care. Because lest we forget, it's not the only wavy blade Durge owns.

... Seriously, Larian. How are you going to make both of them wavy. I'm on your ceiling fans.

It's two separate dimensions to Durge's life, in two blades with the same nastiness to them - absolute utility, versus actual care.

This is literally more intricate than the thing presumably given by a god. That's going to tear like a bitch, truly. And it's even got Bhaal's delightful countenance up front and centre. What was that devnote, about convincing the child of a god that they're not a monster? Mm...

Oh, I don't know. It's almost like, for a while anyway, Durge's connection to Gortash was more important than the one to their father. Maybe they wrote something about that very thing, in fact. Imagine. 🥲

I'd like to take this opportunity to also note the very violent and Thunder-mentioning text attached to the Hellfire Engine...

... And the fact it's found in three parts, because y'know, Dead Three.

There's only one minor flaw in this whole thing, really. One teensy little tiny problematic detail.

Sorcerors, unlike Gortash, can't use Heavy Crossbows.

... But, then, they can't use shortswords either.

I'll let you be the judge, shall I?

[dekusleftsock]

I thought everyone was exaggerating when people kept bringing up the whole “bakugou says he’s Kacchan bc of kaminari” thing, but they actually believe that… what?

WHAT

Literally how do you guys function

AND THEY CALL ME DELULU???????

It’s such a stretch too. Like “oh yeah he said Kacchan no Bakugou in this movie” ITS NOT EVEN IN THE MANGA HELLO???

The whole reason Kaminari calls Katsuki Kacchan is because he’s making fun of him. It’s poking fun at the fact that Katsuki can’t say anything or get mad at Kaminari because then it would raise the question, “Well why can Midoriya say it?”

He literally side eyes him every time he does it but ultimately doesn’t react because he can’t. He can’t if he wants to keep up the act that he is uninterested in what Izuku represents, who he is.

SO WHY, IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK, WOULD IT BE KAMINARI?

WHO is present in this battle?

WHO is the person that made eye contact with him the second he woke up?

WHO is the one that grabbed his hand immediately upon Katsuki flinging himself towards them??

I don’t think THEY even believe it either, I think it’s just some way to cope and explain away the fact that this moment is inherently romantic.

Because I don’t think he’s making fun of the name Kacchan, I think he’s wearing it proudly. I don’t think it’s a joke at all. It’s a joke in the disbelieving way—the way you act when you’ve made an enormous accomplishment or won some prize, and you just can’t help but act absolutely insane at the fact. Because it’s funny that you’re here, in this situation. It’s hilarious in that disbelieving way.

Because he’s laughing at the truth, he’s been laughing at nothing this ENTIRE CHAPTER.

“Ouch! Haha! I’m so fast!”

“I can’t even stop! Ha! Ouch!”

Note: (I’m not using the official translations because for some reason they lack the maniacal crazed laughter and I’m confused as to why?? I even checked with pikahlua and they specified that there was laughing so…. I’m confused.)

What’s even weirder about this is the fact that afo also says (in pikahlua’s translations) “just who is this brat?!” Instead of “what is wrong with him” which implies less crazed bakugou ness imo. Confused as to why, again.

Because this can’t be happening.

Now, I know it could very well be him teasing afo and calling him dumb, saying basically “you’re too young/old to even know how to pronounce my name, use Kacchan instead like the child you are.” Especially since in the context of names like Katsuki’s, he has that tsu sound that can be hard for children to pronounce. (I’m not 100% on this but I’m pretty sure that the u sound is also meant to be silent since it’s a double consonant. So Katsuki’s name is technically pronounced “Ka-ts-ki”)

BUT IDK I THINK HES JUST FUCKED AND A LITTLE CRAZY RN!

That maniacal laughter at the fact that he’s in pain, the disbelief that he may even surpass Izuku, to me it’s holding a double meaning. The meaning that afo is dumb and needs to be treated like the child he is, and the meaning behind the fact that it’s a name Izuku owns for him. That’s his.

It can be both.

It’s not fucking Kaminari. It was never Kaminari. Even if you don’t read it as the second definition it’s still not about Kaminari.

But it’s also undeniable that it has to do with Izuku some way some how.

I also believe that the western side of the fandom is making an extra big deal out of this because, to us, we don’t really have a proper understanding of what a nickname like Kacchan means in its cultural context.

We can TRY to understand, comparing it to endings with ie or y given to children, and then sometimes going with that nickname into adulthood, but it still has its own distinct cultural context. Because a name like “Gracie” over “Grace” does to an extent sound childish, but I have a feeling that -chan has its own childish feeling. There’s a reason none of Katsuki’s other friends in middle school call him Kacchan, and there’s a reason Kaminari decides to make fun of him for the name in the first place.

I just think it’s important to use our thinking brains before we start yapping about things we don’t quite understand yet :)

Like it’s so unbelievably important to understand that horikoshi won’t tell you what’s happening in his story and why, he’ll show you instead BECAUSE HES A GOOD FUCKING WRITER

If it was about Kaminari, he would have specified, but he didn’t. He showed you that Kacchan is Izuku’s nickname for Katsuki, and he showed you that Katsuki cared more about Izuku than he let on for a long time. Just like he showed you that Izuku pushes down his emotions, showed you that Izuku struggles with projection and anger, showed you that Ochako was the one with this crush and not Izuku, and showed you that the feelings he had about Katsuki were deeper than anyone had realized.

He showed you parallels, he specified the important parallels that you absolutely had to see as a viewer (ex toga and ochako), just as he showed you the ones that were more subtle but still there (ex toga and deku). He showed you the pieces, and that doesn’t make his character’s underdeveloped or unspecified, that’s just how writing fucking works. “Good writing” DOESNT MEAN that you have to be pulled along through your baby steps with your hand held, the fact that you don’t get it is on you. Reading comprehension is a learned skill that has to be practiced over and over again, and that is not the writers job. The writer is only supposed to deliver you their story, and however you decide to misconstrue that story is, and hear me out friends, on you.

So I’m sorry if I’m tired of hearing arguments like “toga is a predator and Horikoshi wrote her to be horny”… she’s supposed to represent love. I’m sorry if the representation he made of love was uncomfortable for you, but maybe that’s the point? Because she’s an outcast? Because she’s supposed to be hard to empathize with, but that we have to empathize in the first place?

Arguments like “Katsuki was referencing a joke about Kaminari bc Kaminari said this in this movie” is just about the largest fucking reach I’ve ever seen. And I know, I know that when bkdk eventually get their implied or canonical ending that people are going to be mad. They’ll blame shippers for pressuring him, or they’ll say he’s a bad writer, or they’ll send him homophobic slurs because “how dare the character I see myself in be gay”. And I’m done with the stupidity and lack of common god damn sense.

So if you are going to be upset by the fact that you’re going to be proven wrong, then I again say, it’s on you.

[xxx-sir-pentious-xxx]

Story idea, fluff/angst version (if you write for him): Sebastian returning home after escaping the facility and finally seeing his family again

He was a huge hulking beast, but as he managed to wake up his mother by banging on the front door he considered his appearance at last.

The door opened and his mother's eyes locked on him. She almost screamed but then she look at his hair and the way he was tearing up. She knew that sad soft face from anywhere no matter how mutated.

"Sebastian!? Come inside- what happened to you sweetheart??"

He gladly trailed in tail wagging.

"Oh mama I missed you... it's a long story ma I- I just-"

Before he could talk further his dearest mother started heating up leftovers from last night's supper.

"Well let's get some food in you, mi dulce niño... oof goodness you need a shower..."

While to food heated up she helped him get his grimey clothes off. Patting his bicep she lightly joked,

"Goodness you've certainly gotten bulkier. What have you been eating-"

She looked at his face and saw the shame in his face and those big watery eyes, nothing hurt more than her baby boy crying like this, but she didnt know why he was crying. She very carefully with subtlety stepped to the side some to look in his face.

Those sad little lip quivers and the way she just knew he wasn't looking at her, she knew her little boy so well.

"Sebastian, sweetheart, look at me... look at me...?"

Something about that statement seemed to have made him stressed immediately. And when she tried to hug him she saw his whole body tense, his third arm almost going to strike but he stopped. He very carefully hugged her.

"What did they do to you..?"

It took a whole night.

But he would see his siblings tomorrow as they visited their mother weekly.

Of course they straight up screamed and of course they acted like he was a freak. They apologized after their mother chewed them out for insulting him to his face and how it's their bother.

"You two are screaming like his doing anything, hes wearing a Tshirt for God's sake... imprudente... I made breakfast you two."

Sebastian was wearing a old shirt that by now was hugging his muscular frame and had a worn red color to it.

The four ate breakfast, Sebastian got double the pancakes as he honestly would be far too expensive to feed, so his mom opted to just make something cheap but filling. The others and herself had eggs and chorizo not like he was complaining.

His younger sister stared as he ate, the way his teeth looked freaked her out. The eldest brother stared at his whole face wondering for all of five seconds where his face was when he say two nostrils flares. It was kinda like a bunny. The older brother snorted,

"That's kinda cute actually... you know your kinda adorable when I'm not shitting my pants Sebastian."

Sebastian took offense and blushed blue,

"Shut up man... fucking dick.."

His sister finally considered more of his face and added,

"Yeah you got big ol doe eyes and your.. ears? Wiggle when your sitting there, it is a little cute.."

Sebastian scoffed ears flicking annoyed until his mother stated,

"Oh leave him alone hes been through enough. And hes a handsome young man still so dont go teasing him and treating him like a new dog, its rude."

"Thank you mama..."

His sister mumbled,

"God your such a mama's boy Sebby.... always were but still geez..."

The 4 eventually settled down and by the end of it their mother set to work trying to find Sebastian a job in town. After all, Robloxia was full of many strange creatures. I mean really she saw this one girl who just had functional rabbit ears, surely a giant fish man wasnt that strange to the mermaids she saw last week. Maybe he could live a nice full like with one of those mermaids, he would have a chance.

.....

If you want more ask for more and I'll type up some more. Your ask has a strong chance of happening.

[spookyscaryskidnpump]

my thoughts on spooky month 6

copy pasted from a page and a half of google doc. crying. spoilers inbound.putting it under the cut cuz its super long. also swear warning.

Ok to start off LILA. LILA MY GAL NO UR DOING UR BEST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Im crying im actually fucginf crying. She's trying. So hard. Skid is trying so hard. THEY'RE DOING THEIR BEST PLEASEEEEE. Father Gregor can go EAT SHIT. THEY'RE TRYING AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS GODDAMNIT.

Susie… Susie no… please… she deserves better istgggggg. What happened to their parents? Are they actually just busy? Are they DEAD? Holy shit what if they're dead. Poor Pump, poor Susie, god please just let these kiddos be ok. PLEASE. ABUELO WONDER IS TYING SO HARD BUT SUSIE KNOWS IT ISN'T REALLY FROM HER PARENTS IM CRYING. SUSIE NOOOOOO

FATHER GREGOR I HATE YOU. ok well he obvs did some good but STILL. GREGOR. STFU GREGOR. I get that hes trying but U CANT JUST SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT JUDGEMENT AND THEN JUDGE HER HER FUCKING HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!! YOU DONT HAVE THE FUCKING CONTEXT!!!! ARGHFDGHJSGHJKAGHSD. Also DAMN IS HE A CULTIST NOW?? IS HE DEAD?? WHAT?!?!?!

ROYYYYYY ROY MY BOI NOOOOOO poor guy :( i understand why he hates the kids they DID kinda ruin him so. At least he knows theyre trying now :( and ross n rob just ASSUME he did something bad isnt helping here!!!! I get that theyre also trying to help him and its nice to see him opening up to them about stuff (even if we dont get to know what specifically PELO WHY) but PLEASE get this kid an anger management class or smthn PLEASE. He needs SO MUCH THERAPY. I dont think hes gonna get therapy because im pretty sure his parents are Part Of The Problem but STILL.  Also FUCKER LITERALLY GOT POSSESED BY A DEMON?????? THATS GOTTA BE TRAUMATIC TF

Side note i love ross and robert dearly and i appreciate them doing their best to help on both sides i love them smmmmmm AUGH

KEVIN AND RADFORD FRIENDSHIP REALLLLLLLLLL i am SO fucking happy about that!!!! Also Kevin having conflicted feelings on the kids FAIR. Similar thing to Roy except hes an adult with a semi-functional support network and is able to understand that theyre just dumb kids and they dont actually mean any harm. He’s harsher on the hatzgang cuz theyre teens and old enough to know stealing is wrong but Skid n Pump are little kiddos they dont know better. Also him disapproving of father gregor REAL THO. also HE GOT POSSESSED TOO?? TRAUMA CENTRAL HOLY SHIT

PATTY DESERVES TO HAVE A GUN ACTUALLY. Also JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST! IS HIS KID DEAD? IS HIS DAUGHTER OK HOLY SHIT. ALSO THEM HELPING THE KIDS PROPERLY IM CRYIG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

WHAT WAS EVERMORE DOING WITH THE HOBOMEN???? HELLO??????

I SAW THAT CULT NECKLACE UNDER IGNACIOS SHIRT. I FUCKING SAW IT. CALLED IT BITCH!!!!!!

Rick just has the WORST luck lmao

STREBER IS ALIVE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DEXTER NO PLEASE AUGH…… HIS MOM TOO……

JAUNE AND ROSS’S DAD… HE'S REAL HE EXISTS!! I get ur trying jaune but that is NOT the best way to comfort poor lila… AT LEAST SHES TRYING THO I APPRECIATE HER

THE ENTIRE NEWGROUNDS ENDING?? THE THIEVES AND THE CANDY DEALER IN CAHOOTS WITH THE CULT???? HELLO??????

MOLOCH IS GONE. he deserved it but also THE KIDS ARE SO SAD ABOUT IT? Like they don't really get it but they just watched someone they thought was their friend DIE. HOLY SHIT.

finally. SKID AND PUMP. KIDDOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok for real tho theyre so much more self aware than the fandom and bulk of the show give them credit for?? Like Skid is VERY aware of his dad being dead/possibly missing and legit just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He knows what death is and he finds fun in it to cope. My poor sweet boyo… and PUMP. PUMP ANSWERING THE CALL AUGHHHHHH HE WANTS HIS PARENTS BACK IM CRYING. SUSIE AND ABUELO ARE DOING THEIR BEST AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD AND AAAAAAAAAAUGH. Also him getting possessed by Moloch while having Star-Eyes basically debunks the theory of the Star-Eyes being a form of possession which is FASCINATING. Anyway that scene with Susie and Pump got me misty eyed and then during the ending with Skid and Lila i actually genuinely started crying. I just want them to be happy. Please let them be happy. Please. PLEASE.