#just thinking about things I guess. wondering how much of this was out of my hands

[idyllwave]

vergil has fucked before. nero was proof of that. but with how fucking oblivious you were, dante was starting to wonder if vergil had any game at all.

or where vergil tries to flirt (key word TRIES) with oblivious reader over the course of knowing each other.

oh, and dante is there too, i guess.

Dante knew you were oblivious. Painfully oblivious to the point that it physically hurts him when he sees his brother try and fail to “woo” you. Overtime, Dante started to accept the fact that you were either cursed to never see the obvious signs that Vergil was head over heels in love with you, or you were just incredibly stupid. The latter was proving to be more true than he realized.

“Thanks Vergil,” Dante could hear your voice echo as the door to Devil May Cry opened along with accompanied footsteps, “you’re such a good friend!”

Dante could just feel Vergil's spirit get crushed from here, and when you both rounded the corner, well, Vergil may seem stoned face and quiet as he stood beside you, but Dante could tell that he was dying on the inside.

“Right.”

Then your eyes landed on Dante and you were quick to give him one of your happy-go-lucky, award-winning smiles as you waved to him, “hey Dante!”

It didn’t help him either when you ran up to him and threw your arms around his neck making him spin you around in a bone crushing hug. Such a greeting was natural to you, something that Vergil wasn’t aware of. In fact, Dante could already feel his impending doom when he set you back down.

“Looking at your chirper mood, I’m guessing the mission went well.”

“Heck yeah! You should of seen the swoosh attack Vergil did when I was about to get sliced and diced!”

“Swoosh attack?”

“Yeah, it went swching and slitchk,” you exclaimed as you made a slashing motion with your arm.

“Sounds like he really saved you there.”

You nodded as Dante chuckled, “yeah! And even though he can be kind of prickly, I can feel that we’re on the fast track of becoming great friends!”

Dante, looking behind you, could physically see Vergil going through the five stages of grief. To anyone else, Vergil looked like … well Vergil just being himself. But to Dante, he could see the twitch of the eyebrow, the downturn of his lips, the way his eyes narrowed, or how his body tensed.

Then you turned to Vergil, “right, Vergil?”

“No. I would much rather be something else to you than your friend.”

You nodded, “wait, like super best friends?!”

“No,” the word came out way faster and harsher than the last no.

“Oh! You mean like- like,” you started to tear up as you went to Vergil and grabbed his hands (something he didn’t let anyone do without accepting a death penalty), “like brother and sister?! I always wanted a big brother!”

At that, Dante lost it. His laugh echoed off the walls as Vergil was on the edge of either strangling you or just proposing marriage to you in order to get it through your thick skull that he likes you.

“I will never see you as my sister.”

Vergil, not wanting to kill you on the spot, decided to act fast and destroy the foreboding family zone quickly before it festered.

“Wha- really…?”

He looked down at you like you were the scum of the earth. A part of you completely floored that Vergil hates you that much.

“Really. However, I can view you as my wife.”

“Ohhhh,” your earlier sadness completely forgotten about. With how easily you bounced around, it was always interesting to see how you would react to things.

And finally (FINALLY) Vergil thinks he got through to you.

Until…

“Like a work wife?”

For fucks sake-

Dante tallied up the mental score between your obliviousness and Vergil’s motivation. Currently, it was sitting at you: 561 and Vergil: 0.

[rafeslvbug]

CHAPTER 10 - maybank blues series

since he found out, it started small. nothing like kie had ever done, or pope, or john b or sarah. nothing like them. rafe was different, took his role of your ‘friend’ much more seriously. he’d walk you home if you refused to get in the car after work. he’d check up on you with quick texts, sometimes he’d drag them out longer than he needed to. he’d always be there in the mornings, bumping into you on coincidence, and then saying he’d walk you the rest of the way so you weren’t alone.

you wanted to ignore it.

for a week, you tried to.

you’d throw in subtle conversation about the car, wondering when it’d get done and watch the frown appear on rafe’s face quicker than he could conceal it. because the car meant no more walks with him. you’d serve him at the bar like a normal customer, make him grab your attention, and then act like you didn’t notice he was there, apologetic and internally cursing; you couldn’t get away from rafe, no matter how hard you tried.

but perhaps, you didn’t want to.

that, of all things, was your biggest fear.

craving the nighttime walks where you said little, just basked in his company, cool breeze blowing your hair. craving the subtle brushes of your hands, and the reluctant goodbyes, quickly followed with a text that lasted the night. craving what you knew was both entirely dangerous and desirable.

avoiding rafe was as torturous as wanting him. it came in waves of panic, your growing affection for him crashing against the rocks you put in place, wobbling the defense and tearing through it until you couldn’t hide it as well, and it washed on land to him. but distance away from the shore was about all you could manage, throwing yourself into more work– different work– and making quick exits out the back.

though when the flood came, you weren’t sure how you’d ignore him for much longer.

“now, i wanted to say you looked happier now you’re free from cole..but today..you don’t look so happy,” sofia cocks her head to look at you while you’re deep in thought in the break room.

snapping your head up, out of your daze, you excuse yourself with a, “no, i’m okay, i just have a lot on my mind.”

“tell me about it,” she sits opposite you, retiring her apron over the bench as you have. her hands fold in her lap, back against the wall. “more boy troubles?” she guesses, knowing you have a tendency to fall into those.

“something like that..” you admit, although you can’t pinpoint where the trouble lies. you can see it on his face, or the way he stumbles over the word friend, that he doesn’t see you like that. so it should be easy? but after trusting cole, and the problems it brought you, maybe it’s holding you back. or maybe it’s because he’s sarah’s brother. or because jj hates him. possibly all three.

sofia lets out a whistle, giggling while she sits forwards. “well, which boy?”

you shake your head, refusing to tell her. she wouldn’t want to know either. no pogue on the cut likes rafe, that’s for sure. the way they see it, his business is the type that takes them out of a job.

“no, seriously, tell me. i’m not gonna judge,” she urges softly, and you’re sure you can see her glimmer with a shred of honesty. so you sigh.

“rafe.”

her face falls. open mouthed shock. she’d seen you both sitting at the bar on occasion, thought that the range rover that waited for you after work was suspiciously familiar, but she wanted to think nothing of it. now it was staring at her in the face. “..okay, i mean, i could have guessed, i suppose…”

“we aren’t dating or anything!” you hasten to tell her, and she nods, like she understands.

“no! of course..but you want to?” the fatal question. the one that’s haunted every meeting with rafe, and plagued your mind.

“i don’t know,” you groan. “i think he wants to, and maybe i do, but neither of us have said anything.. plus it’d be bad, terrible. he used to be so rude to us, and he’s a cameron,” you list off poor reasoning, that even sofia can’t justify.

“used to be rude to you..and sarah’s a cameron,” she counters.

you can’t continue. there’s nothing else you can think of that you can’t easily object to either. in the buzz of the ac above your heads, you admit, “i told him about my dad..well jj told him, i guess.”

“y/n..” sofia had known about your dad since you started working here. she was the one person you confided in, while jj had told all of the pogues.

“do you think i shouldn’t have?” you ask quietly, the impending fear of making mistakes always weighing on you.

“how did he react?”

“he said he wanted to help..because he understood me and cared about me,” you tell her. the memory of a week ago is still fresh in your mind, painful, almost.

“then…i don’t think you made the wrong choice,” she says firmly, and you raise your eyebrows at her.

“really?”

she shrugs, “if you believe him, then that’s a pretty good friend to have, an even better boyfriend.” she stifles a chuckle, and you do too. dating rafe cameron shouldn’t be amusing, and it isn’t, more implausible– well it would have been considered implausible a month ago.

“it’s up to you girl, but i don’t think it’s as bad as you think it is..” she says softly and you nod. the storm waging in your mind is truly just in your mind.

as you predicted, rafe was there again. waiting for you in the parking lot, this time standing outside his car, leaning against it.

“i think you’ve been avoiding me lately,” he muses, pushing off the side to take a step closer to you. you walk towards the car, stopping a few inches from him, fingers wrapped around the strap of your bag.

“hm..maybe,” you hum, smiling softly at him, to which he reciprocates, his lips tugging up at the corners.

“why’s that? have i bored you maybank?” rafe’s arms cross over his chest, biceps stretching out the fabric of his sleeve, top button undone.

“maybe to that too,” you murmur, and rafe scoffs out a breathless laugh.

“seriously though, what’s wrong?” his voice turns gentle, serious but not firm. comforting.

“nothing..nothing at all,” you lie, but he doesn’t need to know of your inner turmoil in dealing with him. it’s best that way, you tell yourself.

“mm okay, if you say so,” rafe says skeptically. the same way he did with the floorboard lie, and every other lie you’ve told him. “well, am i gonna drag you into the car or..”

“i’ll go willingly,” you chuckle, walking around the car and to the other side, situating yourself in the familiar passenger seat.

when rafe pulls up at the top of your road, you wait for a few moments. now yet compelling yourself to get out of the car. “oh hey, i uhm..had something for you,” rafe cuts through, rifling through the little compartment on the door to clitch something in his hand. you let out a small laugh when he shows it to you.

ruthie’s sonny angel. the one you failed to steal.

“so you didn’t return that either, huh?” you smile, taking it from his palm, turning it over in your fingers.

rafe shrugs, “she’s got enough of this shit, i think she can spare you one.”

“thank you rafe.”

“it’s nothing..seriously i don’t know why you even like that thing,” he chuckles, causing you to break out into more laughter. it fills the car, perhaps the two happiest people currently on the road. in the cut, at all. you and rafe.

..

the door shuts, and jj lifts his head from the couch, looking at the blushing smile on your face. “why’re you so giddy?” he collapses his head back down while you take a seat next to him on the couch, minding his legs stretched out on the cushions.

“i don’t know j, i’m just happy,” you wrap the small figurine in your fingers, tighter in your hand, closer to you. letting your head fall on the back of the sofa, your smile is fixed, stretched goofily wide, unable to shake it off.

“really..?” jj says cautiously, as if he’s quite scared of your answer.

“yeah. why, jj?” your brows furrow, but a soft smile is still there.

“don’t be mad..” he pushes himself up onto his elbows.

“..okay..”

“i told rafe about dad,” he speeds out, leading into a ramble. “he said he was your friend! and i thought– i don’t know what i thought– maybe it’d be another person to help you! and i know i promised! maybe i never should have said–“

“jj, i know,” you interrupt him. he falls quiet. mouth in an ‘o’.

“you know?”

“i know.”

“rafe told you?” jj asks, raising his eyebrows.

“he did,” you confirm.

“and you’re not angry?”

you shake your head. “rafe is my friend..and i’m glad you’ve come around to that idea,” you grin.

“wait– no! i don’t want him to be your friend, i��“

“next step you guys can become friends!” you joke, giggling.

“no!”

“too late, i’ve got a plan,” you decide, tapping your temple for the mental plan.

“oh for gods sake,” jj flops back onto the couch, cushions sinking under his head. you subside your giggles, glancing back down at the sonny angel, running your finger over the ridges and unable to fight back your smile, again.

oh, you were in trouble.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @supasolaa @octoberbxbyy @rafeobx @jamesbeaufortismylife @vanessa-rafesgirl @bambigirl10 @f4sh10n-m4v3n @amelialovesrafe @letstryagaintomorrow @athenabarnes @sapphichotmess @dumbbandpoetic @emma12345sworld @samwinchesterisawhore @arigoldsblog @yolgart @dreamyybabbyy @m1sche1fm4nag3d

[ladykailitha]

Shut Up and Drive Part 6

Hey guys! We are back with this story! It seems like it hasn't been getting the love it did in the early chapters, I think Part 3 vanishing killed the momentum. But it's back now, so I hope now that people know it's going to be here every Saturday until its done, it'll start getting the love again.

In this we have the aftermath of the mall fire and Eddie runs afoul some bullies at the community pool.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Eddie setup behind the rec center for the first time on Tuesday and made pretty decent money from the sun-soaked moms and bored teens.

He had been there about an hour and was thinking of returning to the bliss of their new A/C unit when Harrington came up to him.

God, it took everything Eddie had in him not scream in fright.

The dude was banged up to hell. A swollen eye, a butterfly bandage on his nose and split lip. He walked up the picnic table with limp and wincing with every step.

“Holy shit, dude!” Eddie hissed as Steve slumped in the bench across from him. ���You okay?”

Steve shook his head and then grabbed it in pain. “Nah, I was in the fires and I really need the relief.”

“What’s the matter, pretty boy,” Eddie said with a smirk, “they run out of the good stuff?”

Steve pulled an orange medicine bottle out of his pocket and set it on the table between them. “It makes me throw up every hour on the hour, whether I’ve eaten it or not.”

“Dude, that sucks,” Eddie said with a wince, picking up the bottle. Then he let out a low whistle “Vicodin. That would go for a pretty penny around here.”

“That’s kinda what I was hoping for,” Steve admitted shyly. “My wallet got lost in the destruction so it’s going to take some time to get a new ID and bank card. So I was wondering if I could trade my pills for your weed.”

Eddie looked at him sidelong. “And why should I believe they’re the real thing?”

“Go ahead,” Steve said jutting his chin at the bottle. “Take one. Pick one at random and try it. If tastes like aspirin then you can scam a couple of stupid jocks with it, but if it’s genuine you trade me for the weed.”

Eddie eyed him for a moment and then shook up the bottle in his hand. He popped out a pill but instead of throwing it in his mouth like Steve expected Eddie licked it.

“Dude!” Steve cried, scandalized. “What did you lick it for?”

“Despite the stereotype, Stevie boy,” Eddie said dryly. “I don’t do the drugs I deal. With minor exception of a joint every once in a while, I steer clear of drugs. I’ve seen what they can do and would like to skip that part, thanks.”

“So why do you deal then, Mr. Morality?” Steve huffed, jutting his chin at him.

“To keep the lights on, dude,” Eddie said with a scowl. “No one wants to hire a kid who failed senior year twice and the factory doesn’t pay Wayne enough.”

Steve shrunk in on himself. “Oh.”

Eddie pulled out a bag of weed and tossed it on the table. “Even trade.” Then he snatched the bottle from the table and stormed off, leaving the licked pill behind.

Steve watched him go and then looked at the pill for a moment. He slipped it into his pocket and then grabbed the bag of weed. It was more than what he wanted, but he figured that’s how much the bottle of pain pills was worth. He shoved it in his pocket and followed the path Eddie had taken, all though much slower.

~

It took Eddie a couple of days before he went back to the rec center picnic table. He shouldn’t have blown up on Steve especially when it was clear he didn’t know his situation. But he just got so mad.

He was getting out of his van when he saw Callahan out by the pool, talking to a couple of the lifeguards as he neared the bottom of his stomach hollowed out.

“And Billy or Heather weren’t acting weird a couple of days before the mall fire?” Office Callahan was saying as Eddie slowed.

The two girls looked at each other and the one shrugged.

“I mean I guess,” she said with a grimace. “But I just assumed that they were sneaking off to make out or whatever.”

“Yeah,” the second girl said, hugging her sides. “But there is no way either one of them are responsible for the mall fire. That’s just insane!”

“And that’s not just refusing to speak ill of the dead?” Callahan asked. “Because you need to be honest with me. They can’t get in trouble, but it would be good to find out who did it so the families can have closure.”

Lead filled Eddie hollowed out stomach. Shit. Both Heather Holloway and Billy Hargrove are dead? Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“No,” the first girl said firmly. “Was Billy a bit of dick? Sure, but he wasn’t an arsonist for fuck’s sake!”

“Rachel!” the second girl admonished. “You shouldn’t swear.”

“I don’t care, Amy,” Rachel said, glaring at Callahan. “I’m not going to stand by and let the cops railroad him just because he was ‘troubled’ or some shit.”

Officer Callahan coughed. “Right. I think that’s all I have for you ladies, you have a nice day.”

That’s when Eddie sped up so that Callahan wouldn’t stop him. He didn’t want to be questioned by the cop on where he was that night. Because on 4th, he didn’t think ‘a gay bar in Indy’ would be believed or go down well if it was.

He decided he better be seen using the pool so he didn’t rouse management’s suspicions about why he kept coming but not using the damn thing.

He had pre-slathered himself with sunscreen at home and slipped his suit under his jeans. So he was able to get undressed quickly without getting glared at by the other guys changing in there.

He fished out a quarter and paid the lock. He pinned it to the bright red swim trunks and padded out to the pool. He looked around but didn’t see Amy or Rachel.

Instead in their place was Steve Harrington. He was still pretty bruised up, but it was fading to yellow and purple. He sat on top of the lifeguard tower, little red buoy in his grip as he called out orders to running kids.

Eddie loped over to the tower and yelled out, “Hey, Harrington. Sweet gig you got there.”

“Better than the mall that’s for sure!” Steve said with a smirk and shook his head.

“Should you be out in the sun with the...” he made a motion to circle his face.

Steve shrugged. “Probably not, but my dad wanted me to have a summer job and with Billy and Heather both dying, this was the only place that was hiring.”

“What a horrible thought,” Eddie said with a grimace.

He looked at Eddie with such hollow eyes he briefly wondered what horrors he had seen in that mall fire. He shook off the thought with a shiver.

“You have no idea.”

Eddie decided to leave it at that. He really didn’t want to know. “See you around, man.”

He leapt into the pool and over his head he could hear Harrington telling him to be more careful with all the people in the pool, but he ignored him determinately. He needed to be seen in the pool for a couple of hours.

So he made himself as visible as possible. Splashing around, playing tag with a couple of second graders, swamping a couple of jocks.

Then when he noticed the lifeguards and management’s eyes slid over him did he get out and dry off. He trotted over to the picnic bench and mostly people watched. He made a couple of deals, but it was more about setting a pattern for the adults to leave him the fuck alone.

Once he had it down pat, he started raking in the money. Just enough to keep the bill collectors at bay for the summer.

Saturday came and it was time to face the music about who might have not made it out of the fire alive.

He drove out to the same spot as before and saw everyone in black. Even King was in black and Cruise and her Pink Ladies wore black armbands.

The entire atmosphere was sober and quiet. It gave him the chills even in the hot summer air.

And though he would never admit it to anyone he felt a sharp pang of something too close to relief to examine to see King standing there by his black two door sports car. Jeff had been pretty sure it was the Spyder, but without having seen it he couldn’t be sure.

All Eddie knew was that was a pretty car and he would love to take it for a ride. He knew that would never happen, but boy did he dream.

King spotted him and nodded his greeting. Then he stood up and read the names of the missing or dead members. It wasn’t many. Just a handful or so, but it was enough. And for some of them it was no doubt their first brush with death. He couldn’t make out faces, but he could tell some of them were sobbing.

But it was King who looked the worst for wear. There was just something about the way he stood, the way spoke that sent another chill down his spine. He thought back to the haunted quality that Steve Harrington had and while everyone had suspected King was in the fire, this confirmed it for Eddie.

King was in the fire and possibly saw any of the names mention actually die. God, Eddie wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. Yeah, the jocks and street racers were assholes most of the time, but that would leave scars that might not ever heal.

There weren’t any races, just kids buying drugs and getting crossfaded with the alcohol that seemed to be pouring like water on like a man dying of thirst.

Eddie made a lot of money, but at the same time it didn’t feel right. There was something scummy about profiting over their grief.

The next day saw him just handing out the money to the homeless on Main Street. He had even talked to Wayne about it, about maybe giving it to some of the families of the victims.

But with the names of the families not released yet, and Eddie only knowing Billy and Heather, they thought it might make things worse, if they suddenly got money.

Well, okay, he knew Steve was in the fire too, but he doubted Harrington needed the dough.

And while Eddie could hold onto it until they released the names, having the money sitting there made him uncomfortable.

So he went to the homeless. The ones he knew were struggling. And just passed the money around he was careful to not give too much to too many people because the last thing he needed was getting jumped.

Come Monday he was feeling better about the whole thing.

But there was something niggling in the back of his head. Something he just couldn’t put his finger on. Just out of view in the corner of his eye, but if he turned to look, it would vanish like fog in the morning sun.

He went back to pool, this time to just swim. He didn’t feel like dealing, not after the weekend he had.

He slipped into his red swim shorts and pinned the key to his locker on his waistband yet again.

When he padded out to the pool he gave a sigh of relief that Harrington must have gotten off or taken a break or something, because Rachel was in the lifeguard tower.

What Eddie didn’t realize as he splashed around were that there were some jocks with a grudge or something stupid.

Because before he even knew what was happening, he was being shoved into the water. He could hear the shouts and the shrill of the lifeguard whistle as he struggled against the two other boys and for breath.

Then suddenly he was being yanked out of the water. He was against someone’s chest, their forearm, keeping his head above water. Then they had reached the edge of the pool, and the arm shifted to underneath his armpits to haul him out of the water.

He was laid on his side as he coughed up water.

Vaguely he could hear behind people yelling and screaming.

Then Rachel gently pulled him into sitting position so she could wrap a towel around him. “Hey are you okay? You swallowed a lot of water.”

Eddie coughed again, shivering despite the heat of the sun and the warmth of the towel.

“Fuck!” he finally bit out. “What the hell were they thinking?”

Rachel shrugged. “Our boss, Felix wanted to call the cops, but the manager, Joan said that it was just boys being boys. Like they weren’t trying to fucking kill you.”

Eddie nodded. “At least tell me they got thrown out.” He pulled the towel tighter around himself.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Felix got them banned for life.”

Then two paramedics came trotting up to the two of them.

“Hey,” the one guy said, “I’m Derek and this is my partner, Tony. We’re here to check you out and make sure you don’t need to go to the hospital.”

Rachel stood up. “I’m going to leave you in their capable hands, because I’ve got to get back to work.” She jutted her thumb the direction of the lifeguard tower.

Tony smiled up at her. “Thanks for taking care of him until we got here.”

She blushed and Derek shoved his friend playfully.

Eddie shook his head. Straights. Fuck him. They were annoying. He had nearly drowned and they were flirting. Gross.

After a few questions and a lot of taking his vitals he was told to go to his doctor to be sure, but it seemed like he was good to go.

He went home and for the first time in awhile, pulled out a joint. He hadn’t partaken since before the school year ended when he smoked one to get through the anxiety of his exams. But today he really needed one.

He lit up and took that first drag, letting the feeling slowly take him away.

Eddie would like to say he was surprised when Wayne came home only an hour later, but he wasn’t. He was grateful to see him and allowed himself to coddled in the way that only Wayne knew how.

Tag List: CLOSED

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4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @oopsallgender @fearieshadow

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10- @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @pentapoctopus @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @eternal-sunflowers

[timbit-robin-art]

If we're combining every AU, this actually has me wondering how old everyone is. I'm assuming Shoto and Tim are around the same age? And then Bobby, Johnny, and Peter? How much older is Bobby compared to Tim? Would this make Dick closer to Scott's age? ... Sorry for all the questions, this Mega AU just has me in a chokehold.

Oh boy… a question as old as time; ages of comic book characters.

Well, fortunately for this question, the Drake Brothers AU forced me and a friend of mine to painstakingly figure out ages (and approximate ages) for a lot of characters. To streamline this question, I figured it was easier to just pick a storyline and list how old characters are at that point, so the ages you see below are based off of what we have for Identity Crisis.

Disclaimer: while we tried to be as comic accurate as possible, we naturally had to do some guessing because… comics. These should not be treated as canon and are for AU purposes only.

Now, to quickly answer the questions you bring up in the ask; Tim and Shoto are born the same year (with Shoto being a little older due to being born January 11th while Tim is canonically born July 19th); Bobby, Johnny, and Peter are also around the same age; Bobby and Tim have a 6 year difference between them; Dick is slightly older than Scott by about a year.

As for the whole AU…

Identity Crisis ages.

Wolverine: (born in 1832; we’re trying to keep the setting vaguely 21st century, so he’s at least over 180 by now.)

Steve Rogers: (born in 1922; at least over 70 by now.)

Bucky Barnes: (born in 1925; also at least over 70 by now.)

Natasha Romanoff: (born in 1928; at least over 60 by now.)

Alfred Pennyworth: 64

Jim Gordon: 63

Hal Jordan: 43

Reed Richards: 40

Ben Grimm: 40

Bruce Wayne: 40

Clark Kent: 40

Charles Xavier: 40

Tony Stark: 39

Ray Palmer: 39 (Included because he’s a key figure in Identity Crisis.)

Barry Allen: 37

Bruce Banner: 35

Ralph Dibny: 35 (Also included because he’s a key figure in Identity Crisis.)

Sue Storm: 34

Zatanna Zatara: 32

Barbara Gordon: 32 (We returned her to her intended age, damnit.)

Shota Aizawa: 31

Kori’andr: 26

Wall West: 25

Dick Grayson: 25

Scott Summers: 24

Ororo Munroe: 24

Jean Grey: 24

Gambit: 23 (Could possibly be older if he’s ever taken the elixir of longevity during his time in the Thieves Guild, though this is unclear.)

Rogue: 23

Johnny Storm: 23

Bobby Drake: 22

Peter Parker: 22

Kitty Pryde: 18

Cassandra Cain: 18

Shoto Todoroki: 16

Tim Drake: 16

Ochako Uraraka: 16

Jubilee: 14

We would include Diana, but… we’re not sure how old we want her to be. We like the idea of her being a WWII figure like Steve Rogers, but we’re not sure when she would be born. Or… sculpted, I guess.

How did we get some of these ages? By A.) combing through at least 80 years worth of comics, and then B.) when we got tired of that, we turned to databases that could vaguely give us an answer, and if we turned up empty handed, we did C.) make shit up.

(For the make shit up step, we would sometimes take the character’s debut year and subtract it by 2004, which was when Identity Crisis ran. If we thought the age wasn’t fitting, we’d then go with vibes.)

To put the AU in perspective, we’re playing with the idea that the current X-Men team has Jubilee on it, who’s been an active member for about a year, and Gambit has yet to join the team. Shoto and Ochako might be apart of the X-Men by now? Or just about to join. The MHA crew is very easy to slot in just about anywhere, so we might age them down depending on how we feel. Aizawa has probably been a part of the team since the Uncanny X-Men era.

Meanwhile, Bobby is with the Teen Titans, and we’re not sure if he knows about Tim being Robin yet (despite Jack Drake knowing at this point). I won’t spoil my friend’s plans for this dynamic just in case they ever decide to post their writings, so that’s all I’ll share.

I think I covered the major parts of this AU. Things might be subject to change depending on how we feel, or if one of you guys have an interesting insight that we might adapt. Because we’re basically using the Drake Brothers AU as a starting point, everything is very Tim-centric. To be fair, his growth as a character is the easiest to follow, as his ages are very well documented with basically no contradictions (post-crisis era, anyway). Without him, my friend and I wouldn’t be able to figure out Bruce and Dick’s ages, bahaha.

I know this is a lot of yappage for an AU, but my friend and I accidentally invested a lot of time into the setting, so I figured I’d share some of our ideas. If you read this far, I hope this was at least a little bit understandable.

[charliegyrth]

Big Henry - 2 of 2

He Teaches Me So Much

Read Part 1 here.

The next morning, I awoke in Henry’s arms. His belly was pressed against my back and the gentle sounds of his snoring somehow gave me comfort.

Last night was a blur of images.

Not just images, though. Sensations, too. Fat rippling under me. Skin slapping against me. Sugar dancing over my tongue.

It took me a while to process what I’d done. I’d fed a guy. And then I let him feed me while he topped. It was strange. It was wrong. It was so different from anything I’d ever done before.

And now there I was, sticky and full of regret. I enjoyed myself at the time, but this was not natural. Fat was not natural.

But then I twisted around, careful not to wake him, and looked into his blissful chocolate-stained face. I felt conflicted. I loved being with a man who could control me like that. I loved the power that his fat body exuded.

But did I actually love his fat? No. I couldn’t.

Since he was still asleep, I placed my hand on his rising-and-falling stomach, just to feel it. And honestly, it felt right. It felt completely natural for him to have this belly. I couldn’t imagine him without it.

I started to rub slow circles against his skin, pressing my fingers hard enough to feel them sink in.

Henry stopped snoring. For a second, I thought that my touch had awakened him, but then he moaned contently and started snoring again.

I decided to be a bit more daring. I slid my hand up his stomach, fingering the thick fold just under his chest. I ran two fingers under the crease, feeling the warmth and sweat that it contained.

Yup, that was hot, too.

Then I moved upward. I placed my hand on his moob. I didn’t want to play with his nipple too much, because that would definitely wake him. Instead, I cupped his breast, measuring the weight in my palm. It was heavy but very malleable, floppy enough for him to pull it up to his face and suck on it himself, if that was something he ever did.

If I had moobs, that’s what I’d do.

The thought made my blood freeze. If I had moobs? Why would I even think that? I worked hard for my pecs. They were beefy in a good way, not like Henry’s drooping fat.

I squeezed his chest a little tighter, feeling the irregularities underneath. It felt like a sack of cottage cheese, almost as lumpy as his cellulite-riddled thighs.

God, why was I hard again?

“What are you doing?” Henry asked. My fondling had woken him up, but he didn’t seem cranky. He looked down at my hand and smiled. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll fix us breakfast?”

***

The hot jets of water beat down on my face. I lathered myself up with soap, really feeling my hard body. I spent extra time on my stomach.

I could still feel my abs. (Thank God.) Despite last night’s feeding session, I wasn’t bloated. No lasting damage. It had been so hot at the time, but it was a one-time thing. I was going to get out of the shower, thank Henry for a wonderful night, and then never see him again.

That’s what I had to do.

As I used his shampoo to lather up my hair (sandalwood with some lemon, very masculine), I asked myself what was wrong with me. Why did I like last night so much? Why was I still thinking about it?

By the end of the shower, I still didn’t have an answer.

I toweled off and pulled on my boxers. Then I headed into the kitchen, where Henry was standing at the stove making pancakes. Like me, he was only wearing underwear. This was my first time seeing him from behind. I guess I’d never really seen obese men from behind before, at least not when they were shirtless. I didn’t realize how his back rolls could be so large and the creases between them so deep. The fat just under his armpits was so thick that they must’ve affected how much he could move his arms. And all that fat was covered in a blanket of thick hair, much darker than the hair on top of his head.

From behind, his hips looked extremely wide, but his ass somehow didn’t. I could see lumps of cellulite through the white fabric, but his ass cheeks were surprisingly flat. That was a surprise, too.

He turned to look at me. He quickly glanced down at my underwear. “Breakfast first,” he said.

I didn’t understand what he meant until I realized that I was erect again. Did the sight of his near-naked body make me hard? I guess so.

“Sit,” he said firmly.

That one command made me a little bit harder. I sat at his table and watched him finish up our breakfast.

He stood a bit awkwardly, positioning himself far away from the stove so his belly wouldn’t press against the side. That position, bent slightly forward at the hips, cause his hairy belly to hang down more than usual. I couldn’t stop staring.

Finally, he scooped the pancakes onto two plates and brought them to the counter. I couldn't even tell how many. Heaping piles. He’d also made us both scrambled eggs, though the different colors told me that he’d mixed in other ingredients, too.

He sat across from me, taking his time to lower himself into the chair. Every movement he made, even the act of sitting, had to accommodate his huge size. He served us the exact same amount.

I looked down at the plates in front of me, more food than I’d normally eat all day.

He smiled. “Eat.”

I started with the eggs. They tasted incredible, even with the sickening amount of syrup that he’d added on top of them. One bite became two, then three, then four.

“You have potential, Steven.”

This was my chance to tell him the truth. I’m not a gainer. I’m not even an encourager. I’m just a normal gay man who decided to have sex with a fat guy as a one-time thing. I had to tell him.

Why wasn’t I telling him?

Why was I still eating?

Was it just because last night was so hot?

I loved feeling his soft body, but that was only because of the novelty, because I’d never been with someone so big.

He reached across the table and grabbed my wrist, stopping me mid-bite. “Take bigger bites, please.”

Despite saying “please,” this was not advice. It was a command.

And I did what he said. Pretty soon, I finished the eggs. Didn't feel full at all.

“Good job.”

As I worked through the pancakes, fast and steady, he grabbed his phone from the edge of the counter and scrolled through it. Then, when he found the photo he’d been looking for, he slid the phone to me. “Look.”

I stared at the image and gulped. This was Henry back when he was hot, more than 200 pounds ago. He was standing by a swimming pool, his hands proudly on his hips. What really struck me was that his muscular body looked almost exactly like mine.

He used to look like me! Which meant that if I gave into him, then I’d have the potential to get as big as he was now. That realization genuinely scared me.

“Pretty shrimpy, huh?” Henry asked through a mouthful of food.

The old Henry wasn’t shrimpy at all. He was beautifully muscled.

“You… looked like me,” I mumbled.

“I know. That’s why I’m showing you. For motivation.”

All the blood drained from my face.

He took back the phone, gave it one more wistful look, and then slid it into his pocket. “God, that felt like a lifetime ago.”

“H-how long?”

“Two years.”

I choked on my pancakes.

Just two years and he’d more than doubled in size? My God. How could someone do that to themselves? Not only the effort that it would take (the sheer amount of food involved), but the motivation, too. To gain that much that quickly meant that he never stopped, never had second thoughts. He just kept going and going, eating and eating.

As the realization washed over me, I raised another forkful of pancake to my lips and ate. It was like I had no control over my own hand. And after chewing and swallowed too fast for me to taste anything, I forked up another bite.

And another.

Henry watched me. He had taken a break from eating. Instead, his hands went to his nipples. Squeezing them. Pulling them. As if he was showing me what I was destined to become.

As I continued stuffing down pancakes, two thoughts wrestled each other in my brain.

The first: I can’t keep eating. I have to stop this right now.

And the second thought: I’m so glad I met him.

I tried to stop multiple times. Every time a jolt of pain sparked through my stomach or a clump of pancake caught in my thought, I told myself: This is my last bite. No more.

Then Henry would notice me pause. He’d squeeze tight into his nipples, let out a throaty moan to remind me of how wonderful he felt inside his own quivering, over-sensitive body, and I’d keep going. By touching himself, it felt like he was touching me, like he was showing me what my own body could become. Every nerve supercharged, every cell on fire.

I couldn’t help but feel the same electricity as last night. My gut was throbbing. My dick was throbbing even more. And after a mindless, eternal gorge, my plate was empty. I’d done it. By finishing my breakfast, the single biggest breakfast of my life, the immensity of my chance encounter with Henry crashed down on me. I was converted.

I struggled to breathe. I felt syrup dripping off my mouth, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe it away. I expected Henry to congratulate me, but all he did was lean forward in his chair and slide his plate (still half-finished) toward me.

A dark, disbelieving laugh escaped my throat. He couldn’t be serious.

And yet, he was. And just knowing that left my pulse pounding and all my blood rush to my crotch.

Still, it was impossible. “No. I… Please.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared into my eyes and ran thumb-circles around his nipples. He was waiting for me, daring me.

I reached for my fork, but my hand was shaky. I literally didn’t have the dexterity to pick it up.

And still, he waited.

Slowly, my eyes barely open, I reached both hands into the syrupy plate, grabbed two dripping scoops, and shoved them one at a time into my mouth.

I don’t know how I kept going. I don’t know why my brain was somehow interpreting my sharp stomach pains as somehow pleasurable. In a way, I could feel my neurons rewiring themselves, forming new connections and mixing all the positive and negative sensations into one erotic slush.

I couldn’t go fast. I could barely lift my arms.

But I didn’t stop. If I paused, even once, then I wouldn’t be able to continue. I didn’t want to finish, but I needed to finish. For Henry. For myself. In those blurry moments, we were the same person.

I slammed the last clump into my mouth, so woozy that I almost missed. The pancake, now just wet pieces, slapped against my cheek and I had to wipe my hand sideways so I could take in every last bit. Some of it fell to the floor, but most sank down my tortured throat.

And somehow, even though Henry was a table away, I could feel myself ready to erupt again. I couldn’t even see my bulge over my straining middle, but it was there, just as overloaded as the rest of me. A single stroke would take me over the edge, and yet, my arms refused to function. They hung like wet noodles at my side.

Finally, Henry spoke. Just two words: “Not bad.”

Such faint praise, but they filled me with pride. I’d earned his approval.

My eyes closed for a minute. I heard Henry grunting next to me.

When I opened them, he was sitting on the floor, his legs spread apart and his belly spilling onto the hardwood floor between them. I was too exhausted to realize what he was doing. Even when he grabbed the chair legs and scooted me closer. Even when he pulled down my boxers. Not all the way. Just enough to free me, to allow my cock to slap against my belly.

He looked up at me, just for a second, and then he lowered his face toward my crotch.

Oh God.

All that work, and now I was going to get my reward. Seconds. That was all the time it was going to take. But he stopped. He kept his hands on my knees and his face inches from me. I was leaking from anticipation alone.

I waited.

And waited.

And he still didn’t move.

“Henry,” I moaned. “What are…?”

“Waiting for you to finish your breakfast.”

But the table was empty. Just two bare plates, a sticky bottle of syrup, and a few soggy crumbs that I didn’t have the ability to even pick up.

God, I needed him to touch me. What did he want? Why was he toying with me?

Then I figured it out. I almost laughed.

With all the strength left in my body, I raised one arm and tried to grab the syrup bottle. It took three attempts before my fingers wrapped around it. I raised it to my mouth.

It was only a third full. All I had to do was squeeze for a couple seconds and it would drain into my mouth. My arm muscles wouldn’t let me. The best I could do was hold it upside-down and let it drip-drip-drip into me. My tongue could no longer taste the sweetness.

And as the syrup made steady, maddeningly slow plops onto my tongue, Henry kept his face right above my hard-on, making sure that I could feel the anticipation for every painful second.

Minutes passed. It might as well have been hours.

Then the last drop slid down my throat. I let the bottle fall out of my hand and thump onto the floor. I was done. Fuck.

Henry opened his mouth, but rather than swallow me up, he gave my cockhead a single lick. Barely any contact, but that’s all it took.

I blasted his face like a fucking geyser. Every nerve in my body lit up. All the jolts of pain, all the choking swallows… With that one lick, I had my release. I didn’t see what happened next.

I passed out.

***

“Faster,” Henry said. “And don’t spill.”

I concentrated on keeping my throat open and allowed the shake to flow in. Despite hundreds of funnel feedings in the last two years, I still needed Henry to tell me what to do.

Well, maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just liked hearing his deep voice give me commands.

As the rest of the gainer shake filled my belly (painful, but good-painful), I felt so wonderfully connected to my fiancé. Henry had changed my life in so many ways, building me into the man that I was always destined to be.

We were together for six months (and 72 pounds) before I finally admitted that I wasn’t a gainer when we first met. By then, I had definitely accepted that part of myself. Because I’d moved in with him and told him everything else about my life, it felt like it was time to come clean.

So I told him the truth. He laughed about it. I did, too.

And then he confessed something, too. He said that the day we met was the day he’d decided to stop actively gaining and just focus on maintaining the weight he already had. (He was just starting to get frustrated with mobility issues.) When he went to the club, he was on the lookout for a gainer he could help fatten. At first, he had his doubts about me, but the way I gave in to his commands and stuffed myself so enthusiastically told him that I had potential.

That confession made me laugh in return. That explained why I’d gained so much while he remained the same size. He was focusing all his attention on me. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a year and a half together, we were officially the same size. Our bodies gained weight in almost the same way (massive moobs, drooping bellies, lumpy but not too big asses). The only difference (besides my more noticeable stretchmarks) was the amount of body hair. He won that competition hands-down.

At that point, he asked if I was ready to stop actively gaining, just like he had. I immediately told him no. I didn’t even have to consider the offer. Sure, it was getting tougher to get around, and there were times when I missed doing outside (non-food-related) activities, but I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.

And now, two full years after our fateful meeting, I was proudly, blissfully enormous. I outweighed Henry by 60 pounds (maybe 70), and yet he still called the shots. He still gave me commands. He still acted like the big man in our relationship.

I sucked up the last of the shake and he put the funnel to the side. “Kiss me,” he ordered.

And I did. He licked the last few drops of shake from my lips.

The End

Thanks for reading! Let me know whether you'd like me to publish more explicit stories like this one, or whether I should keep my stuff more romance-focused. It's up to you.

And as always, please check out my ebooks. I'm really proud of 'em.

[fisheito]

Today's topic is: Curseblaze Darkgleam Chuuninun YakEmo Rm 1+2😔 (primarily Room 2, which is the culmination of all my life's suffering into 13 minutes.)

how ttf he see past his stupid bangs. they are at the PERFECT length to poke him in the eyes whenever they're open. how is that practical? you think your hair will hide you from the ghosts? it won't. what's wrong with you.

ROOM 1 I love how , just like in a video game, eiden and yakumo poof into their exorcist outfits once they step foot in the castle again. Attire for the atmosphere. Matchy matchy ambience. I thought the castle would crumble into wreckage after the main plot (or magically slorp itself into a dimensional wormhole), because that's a thing that happens a lot in these stories. but nope. the castle stays intact. Ghost Mode Sarif (i assume) is at peace, but leaves his old house intact on the mortal plane. People can still walk in and out of the ruins. I guess that's fine... Except for the risk of idiot adventurers running amok inside and finding NEW perils. hm. how very conscientious of yakuei to comb thru the castle one last time, for the good of the surrounding community. Yall weren't traumatised enough? ? ok......

did i mention that these two are like stupid shy teens trying to navigate their first crush. well, at least yakumo is. there's a lot of: touch! no nevermind no touch!!. , i'm fine. i don't need to touch. ..touch?////// 눈_눈 i'm just perturbed by the amount of handholding these two engage in. who the heck can hold hands this much. are your palms not sweaty? uncomfortably wet??? why are they so casually linking with each other like that? ever since i counted the handholding instances in intimacy rooms, i'm like. the number! is too! dang! high!! WHO ELSE IS HOLDING FINGIES AT THIS RATE? I MUST KNOW! anyway. they tour thru the castle remains. yakumo is a nervous wreck. let me share one of my fave shots:

yakumo's in a whirlwind of emotion (protective, terrified, anxious, wary of doors that are physically capable of opening). eiden takes it all in stride, as usual.

besides the fact that

needs to happen more often, eiden is . is so. so so radiant... he knows just what to say, and he's so encouraging and sweet and i [[low growls at the base of my throat]]]]

Turns out eiden has backup candles in his bag, so they light one up using yakumo's lantern. add more light to the scawee casuww.🏰

and this is the point where my eyes widened to Saucers. UM? WHAT? EXCUSE ME? no. no itca n't be. not in- i did n't think in my LIFETIME- i mean, it SHOULD be in myu lifetime, because it makes SENSE and the fact that they havent even touched on it until *checks calendar* 3 years later is an egregious oversight of compatible kinks re: individual character traits, but. REALLY? ARE THEY FOR REAL? ARE THEY REALLY GONNA---

if this really happens, i owe my entire life to morvay. morvay, my wonderful horny soldier. he does so much work behind the scenes and now i'm imagining the wondrous antics he's accidentally instigated by packing the Best Possible Stuff for Master Eiden. thinking of morvay and eiden casually discussing the upcoming trip while packing. eiden's folding up his many pairs of underwear, and morvay is helpfully stashing some "emergency supplies". if Master is going LARPing in the dee~eeep forest with yakumo and blade, he's gotta be prepared! since morvay likely can see in the dark, he has no use for regular candles. incubi flex!. but that means that the ONLY candles he would even CONSIDER stocking would be sexy candles. waxplay candles! poor, sad,, human eiden needs light to see, but i'm sure THESE candles will serve him just fine. imagining that morvay LITERALLY DOES NOT KNOW about the existence of non-sexy candles. if he does, he frequently forgets. because what's the point of a candle that can only illuminate a setting? he can see just fine in the dark. thus, fastdrip fastcooling temperature play waxsticks are the Only Candle in Existence. into master's bag they go!!!!!!! i doubt eiden will scold morvay about his mistake when he returns to the mansion. he might just give a gentle reminder about packing some "standard" issue candles next time. and morvay will eventually use his "What Would a Human Need" empathy brain centre and go "RRIIIGGHHHTTT gotcha master! whatever u need!" before he notices that the # of candles eiden left with is NOT the # of candles eiden returns with. by a substantial amount. cue morvay interrogating eiden about the filthy details of how he used the candles and eiden's like WE WERE USING THEM TO LIGHT UP THE DARK CASTLE, I SWEAR, HONEST TO- [eventual gossip session] anyway. yakumo and eiden are recovering from the surprise wax drips. yakumo's minding he own dam business and trying to nurse his widdle ouchie- blowing air on it,which is an interesting approach. one would assume that he would immediately put it in his mouth, which is a common reaction to burns. whatever. he's phewphewing on it and eiden's like [[how can i make this Sexy?]] "oohhhhh we're in such a scaarrryyy spopoooky castle.. i'm so o o jittery and nervous. but i know JUST the way we can both calm down. trust me. it'll work like a charm~~~!"

Hey. so . ⬆ that is a screenshot of the intimacy rooms as i was unlocking them. I *meant* to get a screencap of Room 2 BEFORE it was cleared, just to show my initial excitement at the preview image, but .understandably, i had ZERO THOUGHTS after Room 1 ended. I was on a mission. and when i saw the image preview again i think i screamed. the preview, which is. well. yakumo is right at dick level. they wouldn't.... they wouldn't think of continuing where they left off in Feast of Roses, would they?? that would be TOO DIABOLICAL. PLAYING THE LONG CON, AGAINST ME, SPECIFICALLY. dON't YOU Your Warmth ♥ ME , WITH THE COUPLED REFERENCES TO BOTH TEMPAERTUERE WAMRTH AND THE ELEVATED HEAT OF DICKITUDE DURING STATE S OF AROUSAL- with new context from room 1 (eiden just discovered he has waxplay candles conveniently in his bag and is about to Horny Up a Situation) , i was IN A FRENZY . UNLOCK THAT ROOM NOW! WHERE ARE THE INTIMACY ROOM POTIONS? MASS PRESS THEM BY THE 10FUL I NEED 800 INTIMACY ROOM POINTS AND MY ENTIRE STASH OF COOKBOOKS/SPICES/GOLDEN EVENT GIFTS **RIGJT*******NOW********* GET OUT THE EIDEN PORTRAITS IF NECESSARY. DICKSUCKING WAITS FOR NO ONE SO. i unlock room 2. the first visual on screen is a flash of:

IMMEDIATELY I PUT MY PHONE DOWN. I'M IN A STATE OF ELATION. INTOXICATED BY A SWIRLING TEMPEST OF MY EXPECTATION MIXED WITH DISBELIEF i need to distance myself from the screen. i toss the phone across the room and retreat to the nearest blank wall to express my agitation.

after a healthy hearty rest, it is time to actually start the room.

i pick up my phone to see the first line of "dialogue", which was abandoned on the screen while i was in civil discussion with the wall:

🏁FALSE START. i return to the wall and snarl some more. (that's what happens when you start a room with a little pained-yaku-gasp)

after another very reasonable recess, we can start the room for REAL. let's progress past the first 3 lines now, mm hmm? ya think we can do that? you feeble wretch?

Eiden: does it hurt? Yakumo: a little.... Eiden: ohhh nooo. if it hurts, i better stop- Yakumo: NO DON'T STOP Eiden: 🤨? Yakumo: i . i mean. ummmmmmm 👉👈 Eiden: no waaaay. it cant be. could you possibly.... LIKE? it??? oh wAow,,,,,,,, guess i better try agaaaain, just to know for suRE(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

meanwhile, me: slammng my head repeatedly against the glass]] I CANNOT WITH EIDEN'S VOICE RIGHT NOW he's acting SO Silly and playing it up to level 90000 but yakumo is taking him so seriously and speaking so earnestly and honestly and answering all of eiden's stupid questions with actual answers even tho eiden obVIOUSLY aleready knows the answers the contrast between these two is making me laugh eiden playing at being experimental and surprised like. please. you are in total control of the situation. you predicted everything that would happen. EIDEN YOU PUPPETMASTER OF SEX, YOU'RE OGNNA KILL ME WITH LAUGH CRYING EMOJI😂

wait a gotdamn dimnut.

is that what yakumo's outfit looks like underneath that white jacket thing? it's naturally BACKLESS LIKE THAT? WOW, OK CARLYLE, I GUESS STEWARD'S NOT THE ONLY ONE FLASHING A LITTLE SKIN CARLYLE JUST WANTED TO BE A LITTLE STEALTH ABOUT IT!! OK!!!!! WHORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DONT KEEP THESE PRECIOUS SECRETS FROM US, OK???????????

*SLAPS YAKUMO's BARE BACK WITH THE FORCE OF A THOUSAND JACKFRUITS ROLLING DOWNHILL

PAINED WIDDLE YAKUMO GASP #2

NUMBER#3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my brain in its background processes, watching every line where yakumo describes why the hot wax+cool air+whole combination of fluctuating temperatures , FEels Good, Actually,, annd i'm YELLING . I CALLED IT. OF COUSRE HE WOULD BE INTO WAXPLAY I IFIKCKIN CALLED IT AND I FEEL SO VINDICATED AND RAAAAAWWWRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH) ...

so yakumo's sticking his face into eiden's crotch like a dog with the fewest boundaries ever. just sniffin that thang and drooling and making eyes at it

I'M GONNA DIE. I'M DGONNNA DIE AND THIS ROOM IS GOING TO BE THE CAUSE AND YOU WILL ALL BEAR WITNESS AND TESTIFY ON MY BEHALF DURING THE TRIAL WHEN TTHE LAQWYER ASKS IF THE MURDERER IS IN THE COURT WITH US AND YOU ALL COLLECTIVELY POINT TO THIS ROOM AND IT GETS CONVICTED OF 29485820 COUNTS OF FISHSLAUGHTER FOR EVERY TIME I DIED

NUMBER FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

every. time. that eiden asks yakumo if it hurts. and yakumo says yes. then admits that he likes the pain. and md anfdi i . mf. dllsefes;. .gfd. GRAWWHHHHHAAHHH [werewolf ripping off shirt]

NMUMBER 5! PERFECT COMBO!!!!!!! KEEP THAT STREAK GOING! ⬅⬆⬇➡🐾🐾🐾👣👣👣🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈YOU'RE A STAR!!!!!! ⭐

No, No. no need to apologise. keep doing what you're doing. actually, can you yell into this jar? so i can listen to the echoes resonating with my cells at an infrared frequency , all sub-visible-wavelength-like. so i can instill the epiphanic sensation of yelling into a majestic canyon and feeling the molecular vibrations sync up in my physical core. yes, thank you.

hey have i mentioned that this whole "performance" and "reward" narrative that's been happening in the last couple yakurooms, is super duper great and i rate 5 stars, would Thumbs Up again? yeah? no? yeah? yeah. make him dance, eiden. DANCE FOR THE PUPPETMASTER YOU SLITHERY LITTLE MASOCHIST-- Yakumo: starts suckin

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S HAPPENINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

at last. we have reached apron yakumo continuity. from that first day that yakumo went lickin eiden's dick like a lollipop , i was waiting for the genuine succ that was sure to follow. yaku is no slacker when it comes to Proper Student Behaviour. he must escalate his performance and incorporate all previous milestones in-t-oo------ GIOSDFOISEJWODAPKDWAFOUIESHJ A YEAR LATER, WE HAVE THE PROPER SLORP. JUST LIKE YAKUMO'S YEAR LONG JOURNEY INTO HAVING OUTDOOR SEX. huh. i wonder if that's gonna be a narrative from now on. eiden asks yakumo to do something, yakumo gets so embarrassed he runs into a cave and hides, then emerges a year later ready to do the Thing. Slow moving snake? keeping us danglin'............

god. why is eiden so sculpted. why he got his whole abdomen AND a hip window sticking out like that. with naught but a flimsy little strip of fabric in between. is that meant to keep your pants up? it's nowhere near the level of a belt. just snip it off at this point. walk around with your pants hanging off your butt. like a FOOL.

-Yakumo's Suck Starting pace is : warpspeed. -Eiden tells him to slow down. -not JUST to slow down. to slow down in the way he specifically taught him -Yakumo slows down and asks for feedback. -i wanna die again.

pardon my below-sea-level standards for yaoi communication, but i am returning to bashing my head on the glass solely because yakumo is Taking Pointers and Incorporating His Lessons in Suckin D

WHEN YAKUMO FIRST PUT MOUTH-TO-EITO-DICK, EIDEN PONDERED, "ohoho havent felt such a novice tongue on my dick in a while. might be nice to teach him how to do it juuuuust the way i like it" AND FOR REAL RLEALIDLA LOOK AT THEM NOW YAKUMO IS BESPOKE TO EIDEN BESPOKE BLOWJOB GAWD EIDEN, WHAT'S IT LIKE TO HAVE YOUR OWN PERSONAL BLOWJOB MAID TAILORED EXACTLY TO YOUR PREFERENCES? ????????????????????????????????

yakumo really be out here sticking a dick down his esophagus til it touches his stomach acid and lackadaisically remarking, "what, like it's hard?" (sorry for your acidified dick, eiden. i hope it heals expediently.)

NO///GAG////REFLEX!!! WHY DID WE NOT TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS FROM DAY 1?????

we knew that eiden could be elbow deep in yakumo. shoulder deep. knee deep?. idk where yakumo's entry point of Suck is, but he will get at least ONE ENTIRE eiden extremity in him along the way. he has had this power since time immemorial. what an absolute mockery of burgeoning potential , to only allow it space to {{FlHLoRKPH}} in the third year of the game. well. better late than never. let us all learn from this valuable experience about where our priorities doth lie.

hey, eiden. have you considered yanking on that chain. it's just like, dangling there. perfectly yankable. have you considered tugging on it like reining in a horse., t hat's sucking your dick. or maybe just to bully whatever's on the other end of that string. just a possibility. thanks

and JUST as i'm getting all smug and snarky and cocky again and eiden takes all the fear i previously felt (this time, it's EIDEN who thinks he's gonna die!!!!!!! from the thorough sluuuckin'!) THEY PUULL THIS CINEMATIC HGAGRBAGE

AND I

ITS THE FHUCKIN EYES IT IS ALWYS SHS THE HFUGKIN EYES THOSE BIG WET STUPID SEEING ORB COLOURED SPHERE WITH HAIR BORDERS STUPIFD EFHCKIN EYELASHES TEEMING WITH MITES AND MICROSCOPIC LIFE FROM ALL THAT NEASTY MICROBE WHATEVRE WHY THE FGG UIS IT EEVEN SUPPOSED TO BE ATTRACTIVE DOESNT NA HMAKAE NANY SENSE SOMEONE GOUGE THOSE THINGS OUT AND PICKLE THEM AND PUT ME OUT OF MNY MISERY

THEN EIDEN 's EDIICK GETS *BIGGER* FROM THE EYE CONTACT!!!!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE(so far) !!!!!!!!!!! hahahaha edick. wait, wouldnt it be more suitable to call it edick from the edroid and not from the e-iden. and eddick sounds more like edmond, so really, it should be more like eiden's proprietary dick slang would be eidick, but i also wonder if that is like a ship name for Eiden x A disembodied dick, which is just as plausible as anything else in this world----

PAY ATTENTION! YAKUMO IS STILL EATING HIS FOOD.

the camera kept panning to yakumo's kneeling lower body and i was so Locked In that i actually turned up my screen's brightness to see what the HECK they were trying to direct my attention to.

ME. Turning up the brightness. For my eyes that lurk eternally in the dark and squint when the slightest squidgeon of sun sneaks thru. All for This.

snan better appreciate me taking the time to adjust my settings. JUST to look at his dick outline, apparently.

because that's all there is . i guess. i take a moment to ponder the position. why is it angled like that? yakumo must be wearing underwear after all. That, OR, his poor benpis is trapped under his wholly unnecessary pants. if he wasn't wearing anything under his robe, that dick would be tenting FREESTYLE and VERTICAL , for god andtheskies to greet from above. but no. it is not tenting in the beauteous way that it did during Naked Apron Yakumo. thus, it must be restrained by some unnecessary prison of cloth. unfortunate. but also, if eiden were to reach over and try to free it, how would he manage? would he have to slip through a hip window and wriggle his way around like a ferret in a pipe? and even then he'd have to jork it under the robes. truly nonsense. just get rid of all the fabric.

have i mentioned that i like eiden's little sounds through this whole room? he's quieter than usual. i guess cuz he's not getting his ass blasted into the team rocko sparko. a lil bit of restrained ngghhs from eiden, mixed with the crunchy texture of yakumo's wails. hm. yep. that's some good mixology. set it on fire and let it burn some poor unsuspecting drunkard's mouth

Yakumo: *speeds up* Eiden: i am going. to die. Yakumo: if you're going to die, please do it in me Eiden: wait waht for real??? Yakumo: *MAXIMUM HORF* Eiden: blorhgjrh

and now. the visual here is a delightful view of eiden's spunk on yakumo's face, but the description says that yakumo took it down his throat. so. where are we? the mechanics escape me in this moment. he swallows the cum, as he has been doing since Day 1 Frotting Behind Eiden Because He Can't Bear to Look at His Face (but will still lick up all the splattered jizzpaint on eiden's abdomen and geniticular region) Noteworthy: the artists went out of their way to show the splooge around yakumo's mouth so. did yakumo pull off some INSANE porn star timing and relinquish the dick at the exact millisecond of eiden cumming? because there was no mention of handjerkin eiden to completion (tentative achievement unlocked: unassisted blowie orgasm) then he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out (as is seen in the animation) and with Mathematical Precision caught the trajectory of the cum fountain in his throat?

i am conjuring the image of those carnival games with the water guns. shoot and fill up that clown's mouth, why don't you.

well. whatver way it went down. It went down. and i've no complainmts. yakumo even thanks eiden for his meal at the end. this polite bitch. sayin grace or kudos or some shtihte. for the home-pressed artisanal dick juice. ThROW Him Overboard.

AND AFTER ALL THAT. IN THE. HAUNTED ABANDONED CASTLE OF MUSKY CELLARS AND COBWEBBED CORPSES:

*facepalkms most wearily* nothing washes away the anxiety like sucking eiden off and submitting to the fleeting pain of molten wax

he sounds So GRATEFUL and RELIEVED and eiden's just like

(・▽・；)............................... haha sure! yeah, buddy.... any time..... happy to be of service... ha..ha..........

it's ok, eiden... let him think that you were truly just trying to calm him down. let us engage in the act of temperature play fellatio in this mysterious section of the basement that somehow has a clean couch. or is that brick? no matter. regardless of the supporting surface, our nerves shant be fraught after this One Simple Trick. i assure you.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Okay first theme is “having Bobby back is worth the price of any angst” and yeah he might disagree but too bad for him - I need him back!

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷 (CAL IM ALREADY SO SO OBSESSED WITH THIS ONE!!! I’m kinda glad my guess about the rest of Bobby’s family being back was wrong because I don’t know if I could have handled it :p And because I love Josie so much already so I’m very happy the kid was her! I’m loving the lives you’ve built for them all in this future - captain Buck and his next gen probies and happily married Buddie - I love it all and can’t wait to learn more! Also I caught that line about Josie having three cousins in LA - any chance we’re in for another Ravi/Adriana story 👀? I have a lot more thoughts on this story to share but this is getting long so I’ll just have to send another request with part two!)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 (ooooh the plot is thickening i love it! First of all Eddie’s jealous wife tirade was possibly my favorite thing ever! And I’m so glad it led to a real conversation between him and Buck! And the Bobby reunions with Buck and Eddie! So full of love and pain and relief and struggle! So wonderful! And Athena kind of knows! But she thinks he’s a monster :( so excited for her to be reunited with him and see how it all plays out! Hopefully her realizing he’s still Bobby will help him realize it too!)

- PCA <3

Having Bobby back is worth my life and I'd GIVE IT HAPPILY.

500 for 🪷 (Glad you love Josie! My sweet girl. YEsss Ravi and Adriana have a daughter.)

---

Chim looks up at Bobby. His eyes go wide and stricken with emotion. Yep. There it is. The look Maddie was kind enough to bury. 

“Hey, Chimney,” Bobby says again. He walks towards his friend. “I can see it’s been a really, uh… Emotional day for you. I’m sorry to add to that.”

Kevin gives Bobby a strange, annoyed look, but says nothing. 

Chim’s mouth wobbles. He looks like he’s in so much pain. 

Bobby moves forward, intent on hugging him, but Chim lets out a choked, pained sort of noise from his throat.

“You son of a bitch,” Chim finally says. 

This takes Bobby by surprise.

“Whoa,” Kevin mutters. 

“Chim?” Bobby asks, brows furrowed with concern and chest tight with panic. Buck, Eddie, and Harry had all been glad to see him once they were over the shock. Athena had gotten there. Is it possible that Chimney just… Isn’t? 

“How could you do it?” Chimney asks, tears spilling out of his eyes. “How could you make that decision for me without… We could have figured it out together. We could have decided. You just chose and left us with it!”

Oh, right. That.

Has he been waiting ten years to say that? 

Behind Bobby, Buck tries to intervene.

“H-hey, Chim, man, maybe-”

Bobby raises a hand to silence him. If this is a conversation they need to have, then god knows Bobby owes it to Chim. 

“Would it have made it better?” Bobby asks. “Would it have made it easier? For the four of us down there to talk it through until we reached the same conclusion?”

Chim shakes his head. “No…”

“Yes,” Bobby nods. “There was no other choice, Chim. You’re a captain now. I know you understand. There was no other choice.”

“There had to have been,” Chim insists. 

“In ten years, have you thought of one?” Bobby asks.

Maybe there was. Maybe Bobby simply didn’t have enough time, or presence of mind, to go through all the possible outcomes. He had hours, not years. He was sick and getting sicker. Maybe Chim has thought of an alternative. If he has, Bobby would like to hear it.

But one look at the pain in Chim’s eyes and Bobby can tell that he has spent ten years thinking. He has run the day over and over in his brain, like an endless loop of torture. And he has come up short.

“It had to be one of us,” Bobby says quietly. “And it was never going to be you.” Because Bobby was his captain. Because Chim was freshly married. He had a little girl at home and a baby on the way. But more than any of that, because Chim was his friend. Is his friend, still, he hopes. Either way, Bobby loves him. And he was never going to let him die so he could live.

---

81 or 500 for 🩸 (I'm glad you liked Eddie freaking out! Excited to finally get to a Bobby and Athena reunion... Eventually)

--

“I have three hired guns at your house. I thought we were collecting two of your children, but you so kindly brought me one. Tell me where Robert Nash is, where you’ve been keeping his remains, or they both die.”

Every possible feeling of horror passes through Athena’s body. Every worst fear. Every possible flash of agony. Has she somehow put her children in danger? Has she somehow risked their lives? Not them. Anyone but them. Her babies. 

“Wait a fucking second,” Harry blurts, leaning forward in his chair. 

Athena’s arm lashes out, holding him back by the chest.

“Don’t,” she begs.

“He’s threatening May!” Harry exclaims. As if that hadn’t been abundantly clear to Athena. 

“And you,” she reminds him. 

Harry slumps back into his chair. Athena turns her attention to a very smug looking Pruitt.

“I do not take kindly to my children being threatened, Mr. Pruitt,” she warns. 

“And you know that mine is threatened,” Pruitt tells her. “Every single day. The research we were doing could save him. So this is your last chance, Sergeant. Where is your husband?”

▪️▪️▪️

Bobby grips the armrest in Buck’s vehicle tightly as the Jeep lurches around a corner. Buck has abandoned safe driving practices in an attempt to get to May as quickly as possible. Which is good. Which is what Bobby wants. But still, he’s beginning to feel queasy. Queasy and depleted. The latter of which, he’s aware, only makes him more dangerous. 

He’s holding the phone to his face still. May is still on the line. She’s fallen completely silent. Bobby has himself muted. He got her into Athena’s room, got her into the gun safe. They walked her through loading a handgun. But now she has to be quiet. The intruders are in the house. Bobby will know if he hears a shot go off. 

“Almost there,” Buck assures him.

Which, of course, Bobby already know. It’s his house they’re going to. 

Eddie is still on the line with 9-1-1. They’re sending the police. But Bobby thinks they’ll get there first. 

It’s sunny outside. The day is getting later and the sun is hanging lower. Warm and direct through the car windows. It’s beginning to make Bobby feel ill. Weary and weak. 

He needs blood. He knows he does. It’s been too long since Banting. He doesn’t feel as strong as he had. He needs to be strong for May. He knows he needs to. He can smell the intermingling scents of Buck and Eddie’s blood, locked in the confines of the vehicle. It’s making him feel shaky. Like if someone had tied him down and poured whisky on his face back when he was alive. 

[takaraphoenix]

I read a fic once where Stiles used his spark to take Scott's wolf away and make him human again, I was wondering if you ever thought of something similar?

Also, I just wondered if it's more cruel to have Scott keep the wolf he hates or take it away and make him into a weak human again after he was used to being more powerful/healthier?

I would assume that even if you take the wolf away from him that Scott would still hold a disdain for it (maybe even be annoyed at being human instead) but I don't know if he would attempt to get it back or not.

Maybe? Because he used to have asthma and couldn't do much of what he does now so he might only want it back so he could be strong again even though he SAYS he hates it, which would be very hypocritical but Scott is already so I wouldn't actually be surprised.

Guess I'm mostly curious about your thoughts on how Scott would react to suddenly getting his wish to become human again, whether that be by Stiles or some other way.

To be very honest, I think that Scott did learn to accept his wolf over the course of the show. Season 1 and season 2 Scott may have resented his wolf, but he grew to be more one with it later on.

I have no plans of using Stiles' Spark that way though.

For one because I think it's a cop out and I don't like it, even in my s1/s2 fics where I do focus on Scott not being one with his wolf and not wanting it/not being good with it.

For another because I don't actually like overpowering Stiles in a "he can do ~anything~ now" sense; I give his magic very specific parameters. He can learn potions, spells and runes like any other magic user, but it's something he'll have to study for. His natural magic lets him control the elements, summon and bend them, essentially. Taking away someone's wolf doesn't fit these parameters and I like to be consistent in my headcanons; I very rarely deviate from them (though I have used "Spark" in different interpretations; as the Alpha spark in a human who had the potential to become an Alpha werewolf if taking the bite, and to mean "Alpha phoenix" in my phoenix!Stiles fic).

I do prefer the canon that the bite is something that can't be undone. Probably the only thing this show was ever consistent on, when it comes to wolves, come to think of it.

To answer your other question, I think it depends on what point of the story this would happen. Like I said, s1 and s2 Scott weren't very in-synch with the wolf. I think season 1 Scott would have been grateful to have it gone, even if his asthma returned for it, especially since it was only like three months or so, so he hadn't had much time to get used to life without asthma. Season 2 Scott may have struggled a little more with the readjustment but I think he would have also preferred being human.

I do think that season 3 and onward, Scott embraced his wolf more and would have probably not wanted to lose it. Plus, the longer the story went on, the more time he had gotten used to his quickly healing, enhanced, super-strong, asthma-free body so the readjustment would be jarring.

[itsgillianstupid]

"That's alright, it's not a you have to know now thing. When you figure them out you know where to find me." Gillian nodded, fully resolved to not be any more selfish than she was already being and make sure Dulcie was being fairly represented in keeping them a 'them', which is what all of the off limits stuff was about, Gillian had to remind herself of that plenty now that the damn had finally broken between them. She raised an eyebrow at Dulcie though, "You were checking me out at Pride? Really? When?" She was genuinely curious about it, a rush shooting through her that among the eyes on her all weekend Dulcie's were a pair of them; it made her more excited than it should all things considered.

So wrapped up in the emotion thick air between them, it didn't occur to Gillian that this would absolutely be a Dulcie cries situation until she was actually on the verge of tears, then it just seemed like something that should be expected, "It's all good, I know who you are, D." Gillian hated when girls cried, especially people she loved, and most especially when she was the reason for it. "Yeah, I guess you are." She shook her head, mind in the past now, "You looked nervous as fuck, I remember thinking how I wanted to ease your nerves so you had a good time. I think I only made them worse though." She chuckled again, "Shut up I wasn't grumpy and even if I was, why would you find that attractive. You're fucking toxic." Her smile died at Dulcie's question - it was phrased like a joke but did make her think seriously. They were closer to their 30s than 20's at this point (or at least Gillian was) so when would she if ever feel secure enough to be brave. "I know it doesn't make sense…I should talk about this with my shrink I think, even though I know what she's going to say "Few things are guaranteed in this life Gillian. Are you going to let that keep you stagnant?" She let go of Dulcie's hand but tapped the inside of her wrist, so her own hand didn't retreat far. "I'm wondering how much I should let myself indulge in this…how good it feels to touch you. You asked what if right? What if we took it slow, didn't give it a title but we'd both still know, is there a such thing as taking it slow when we both already know how deep this is? I'm not saying that's what should happen just what if. Or what if we just did what feels good...all roads lead to the same place, right? I feel fucking crazy because you feel inevitable in every scenario except the one where you're mine and I'm yours. Then you're what I can lose but can't be without. "

"Oh God, I'm not drunk enough to it all about my boundaries," she joked and put her hands over her face. "I just learned how to have boundaries like last year, I can't just produce them on the spot," she admitted but also because it made her even more shy when the attention was turned back to her. "I'll think on that but I do know that next year for Pride if you keep showing you're glistening midriff night after night, I'm not responsible for how flirty I get after a few shots. I showed amazing self restraint this year." It sounded like a joke but it was an admission of what had been on Dulcie's mind over the weekend.

She had been playing it pretty cool, honestly proud of herself but the weight of all the emotion she was giving into hit her as the silence settled between them. That mixed with the way Gillian was looking at her and her words, she had to blink quickly to keep her tears at bay. "Fuck, I am not going to cry I just..have emotions," she said, closing her eyes for a moment until she felt Gillian's fingers against her own. "Yeah well I'm an exception to all of the rules," she teased, giving a squeeze to Gillian's hand as she met her eyes again, sure her eyes were shining with the tears she was holding back. "I did look so hot at that party so who could blame you really. God, do you remember that road trip we took back to campus together before your last year? You were so grumpy and I was like wow, I am obsessed with this girl for the rest of my life." She looked down at their hands and smiled. "Do you think you'll be less scared to lose me when we're like...I don't know, in our 40s? It'll really give me something to look forward to."

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[sciderman]

I swear I have read your big post regarding Peter Parker's neurodivergence and why it is best to avoid labelling him, but he definitely has a weird brain

Can't find it and feel kinda sad about it cuz I deeply related to it

i know exactly which post you're talking about and i can't find it either! i've raked through my archive, and it's just - nowhere to be seen. i think tumblr eated it (it happens.)

really, tumblr's search functionality is so so useless, i don't know what to tell you. there are plenty of keywords i can search to find it that post, but the search functionality actually just does not work!

undiagnosed audhd-addled peter parker, my darling, my light, my life, my everything.

i think peter parker's such an interesting creature to write, because a lot of people will point to a certain behaviour about him and say "this is an autistic thing, right?" but a lot of those behaviours are actually, in my head, tied to certain traumas in peter's life too.

people say "oh, the food thing, peter's a picky eater because he's autistic" and yes, absolutely. but also it's tied to his trauma with his parents.

peter gets overstimulated, and yes, it's an autism thing, but also he was bitten by a radioactive spider and his senses are dialled to 11.

it's a similar case i've found for myself, too – where a lot of friends i have kind of diagnose me because i have autistic traits, but actually - i'm hesitant to claim the label or pursue diagnosis because, actually, i know where these certain behaviours come from, and they come from certain traumas. there are events i can pinpoint in my life and say "yep. that's where this behaviour comes from."

so - i think there's a lot of overlap between trauma and autistic traits. the brain is very complex! i think the reason for that overlap is maybe as simple as the fact that people with autism and people with trauma are both doing the same thing - developing behaviours to protect themselves or soothe themselves. so - i think it's nice to be able to see a character like peter parker, who may or may not be autistic, but recognise behaviours in him and see yourself in him.

people who go undiagnosed for whatever reason - people who are really good at masking - so good, in fact, that they have no idea they might be on the spectrum - everyone and anyone at all can look at peter parker and recognise themselves. because i think we discredit the thought that every single brain does the same thing! develops certain behaviours in order to survive. every brain has that same software - we've just all been faced with different hardships that we need to overcome, and that's were all the differences come in.

autism is a spectrum, i guess - everyone falls into it to some degree. and i think events in your life probably push you along on it. but i don't know, i didn't study brain science. probably what i'm saying is very stupid and uninformed. of course there's brain chemistry involved. but i know people in my life living with autism and certain events in their life have exacerbated certain behaviours or made coping with it a lot more difficult. so maybe trauma is a catalyst.

[ultimategazer]

i only completely memorized like 5 or so words in ASL im gonna be real💔 i can recognize a few others, but I can't really do them properly (zero practice and nobody i talk to often knows it)

"i feel like they would have a word for 'The Box' since they seemed to know it was coming from the ground" this makes it feel like 'ground' and 'The Box' would be similar words, or 'The Box' would be similar to 'elevator', as thats where The Box comes from, and what it is. Maybe a combination of both words?

"They would also need a word for 'Greenie'" I wonder if that sign would be like 'stupid', because the Gladers most definitely thought the Greenies were dumb. The assholes (affectionate).

"and something about 'alcohol' which they keep from Gally" i like to think that Gally figures out the word they made up for it, and so they have to scramble for a new one. They probably also keep it from Chuck, because that child is a menace on his own and does NOT need to be influenced by alcohol.

When Gally recognizes the signs Newt's doing, he immediately goes: "I KNOW THOSE DUMBASSES!!! HOW ARE THEY ALIVE?!!???" and the rest of Lawrence's group just kinda look at him because how on earth would he recognize these strange people who are very obviously not from the City, or even from outside it from how they behave?

If WICKED taught them multiple sign languages, do you think the boys would be confused on which one to use? Like in the Maze one of them is using Russian Sign Language and another is using Spanish and two of them are using ASL, except one of them is doing it poorly so noone has any idea what the other is saying.

"YOU DIDNT HAVE TO HURT ME LIKE THAT AFTER ALL THAT FUN SCIENCEY DISCUSSION" and then immediately throwing "When Newt dies, his vision goes before his hearing, like it always happens with living things. So he doesn't know if Thomas managed to sign anything before his death. He did. He signed "I love you" AHFYGHFHHHFJH 💔 SOBBING

"if anyone in the Safe Haven does it to Thomas, he laughs, but you can see the light in his eyes completely die" in the beginning, before his healing really starts, somebody does it to him in an insulting way, and he immediately punches them. because noone is going to use the memory of Newt against him, even unknowingly.

honestly, i dont even know how im coming up with these LMAO. mix of near constant day dreaming and free time, i guess?

"Every small group within the Gladers makes their own words, and sometimes teaches the others them around the campfire at the parties" how long would it take for the languages to unify? would they set some words before they left the Maze to be as quiet and understanding as possible? or would they unify in the Scorch, where they had to be as smart as possible so they didn't die or lose each other?

"While in the Scorch, they use it a LOT MORE, since they didn't want to open their mouths too much in the desert" once the thirst becomes just a little too much, i feel like the signs would get a lot more subtle, and use more body language and facial expressions, similar to how ASL does (to my understanding). it becomes harder to understand each other in the Scorch, especially with the different words the group uses for each thing, and that's why a lot of people are lost. miscommunication is rampant.

"Minho is almost completely deaf after the lightning strike, and so the two other boys, being as considerate as they are, make it their mission to make a whole lot more words to communicate with him" AWHHHHHH THATS SO SWEETTT

Thomas signing "I love you" to Newt when he dies is DEVASTATING💔💔 i LOVE it

i should probably also stop making headcanons before i work it into one of my fics or just go haywire and make a new one too LMAO. the headcanons are too powerful

your ideas really make me think, which i don't do a lot, thank you! theyre really fun to work with

my favorite Maze Runner headcanon is that all of the Gladers are just a little bit hard of hearing because of the Maze walls every night, but Minho has the worst damage because of the lightning.

this applies to both Group A, Group B, and Brenda and Jorge because GOD those lightning storms messed up their eardrums.

To be honest, (BOOK SPOILERS FOR THE DEATH CURE) the Right Arm bombing WICKED's facility and the Maze walls collapsing did not help at all.

Another one of my favorite headcanons (BOOK SPOILERS FOR THE SCORCH TRIALS) is that Thomas' arm had to get amputatated once it got infected because of the Crank's rust bullet.

I think it wouldve been a lot cooler if dashner had let one of them lose or have a missing limb.

[seaofreverie]

The biggest problem with trying to come up with a dream Sparks setlist is that I truly want them to play just about every song. Or at least 80% of them, would that really be too much to ask..

[valkyurii]

it’s funny how things have gone full circle with malenia. she was so hated when the game first came out, but then people grew to like her. then the dlc came out and now people hate her again lmao

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

the doctor isnt neurodivergent or autistic or adhd or nonbinary or genderqueer or asexual. what the doctor is, is Not From Here

[bonefall]

Tbh the whole 'bloodclan bans families and hates Cat God' thing really reminds me of the anti communist bullshit I was fed in highschool history class.

Every day I count my lucky stars that I got educated in a well-funded school in a blue state. My teachers were shockingly good in hindsight, I didn't get half of the same propaganda some of my friends in other states got.