#like not only are you making random shit political you’re not even getting it right

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

genuinely can’t stop cracking up over there not only being culture war shit over translation and localisation but also it being just hilariously wrong. people will post dry-ass unnatural sentences and go “this is a more accurate translation” bc they literally translated it but like you can’t literally translate things that’s literally just how machine translation works and it sucks bc like doing that is utterly incomprehensible and it actually just is very wrong. the Japanese language has a lot of complexities about stuff like politeness levels and pronouns that make characters have speaking patterns that show their personality really well, but doing a literal translation makes them all sound the same and it’s bad and confusing. wordplay and symbolism has to be changed bc that is a very culturally specific thing and again literal translations there make the work incomprehensible and just like awful to engage with. there’s things in certain cultures that just have way different implications in others and they like, literally have to be localised else you’re having the meaning of everything changed bc of your own cultural context. localisation is not only good but some level of it is necessary for an actual understandable experience. i mean if you’d rather have a literally incomprehensible and bland as shit game/anime/whatever where you literally do not have any of the characterisation of the japanese version and everyone acts like identical interchangeable robots go ahead but what you want is literally just Google translate. that is what an entirely literal and faithful translation is.

[carlsangel]

BACK OFF

carl grimes x fem!reader

(ron makes you uncomfortable, carl comes to your rescue.)

tags: i really don’t know o-o

masterlist here!

“Seriously I don’t get why we have to come to this, what’re we even gonna do here?” You complain, walking beside Rick and Carl on your way to Deanna’s house. Carl looks at you, unsure of what to say as he adjusts Judith in his arms. “Well, they’re tryna be nice…and welcoming I suppose. We’re gonna be polite and say thank you. We’re lucky to be here.” Rick responds.

All of this seriously confused you. I mean, a couple of days ago, you guys were all on the road and sleeping on the floor of a barn that smelt like horse shit. How were you meant to go from that, to going to a house party in a normal house, with normal people, in a normal community? It’s just simply not possible. Not in the world you live in.

You accept what Rick says and just leave it at that. You enter Deanna’s home to the intimidating sound of loud chatter. You were expecting people to harass you with tons of questions about your past and how you wound up here with the group. Things about your family you wished to forget.

Deanna walks over to greet you guys and she grabs Judith from Carl’s arms, freeing his hand to hold yours. He gives a gentle squeeze as Deanna makes pointless small talk that’ll later be forgotten. You notice that Maggie and Glenn are already there which makes you feel somewhat better. You’re pulled from your thoughts when Carl begins to walk further into the house, to the kitchen.

“C’mon I saw someone with lemonade.” He says with a smile. You smile too at how sweet he was, how excited he got over something as simple as lemonade. You follow him through the crowded home and stop at the island with pitchers of random beverages. He grabs you both a cup and pours the lemonade into them. You stare around the room, studying everything you see. Every exit, every person, everything.

“Here.” He hands you the glass and notices how intently you’re looking at everything. “Are you okay?” He asks, pushing the cup closer to you. You snap out of whatever trance you were in and grab the glass. “Yeah I’m fine.” You give him a small smile. He could tell you were spewing bullshit. He knew you well, I mean you’re best friends. You wished you were more than that; he did too.

“Look this place is real. I know it’s hard to accept…I barely have myself.” He explains. “But everything is finally gonna be okay.” You nod, taking in his advice when you hear someone arrive to the house. You and Carl walk into the hallway and look towards the end of it, noticing Jessie and her family had arrived. You’d met Ron earlier and he seemed relatively normal. Minus his odd remarks.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a girl show up at the gates. We’re glad you’re here.” He told you. Who says that? You saw him as he entered and your nose sort of wrinkles. Rick walks over to the both of you and instructs Carl to find Judith and to pry her from whatever strangers arms she was in. You watch as he walks away and your heart immediately sinks. You walk back into the kitchen to hide and you stand by the island sort of just looking around.

“There you are.” You turn to be met by Ron. Great.

“Oh…hi?” You respond as he walks over to grab a glass. “Is that lemonade?” He asks pointing at your cup. Your eyebrows knit together in annoyance; it’s the only yellow beverage on the counter. “Yes.” You respond shortly. He notices how short you’re being but doesn’t really take it as a hint to leave you the fuck alone, but rather a sign to keep going. “Sooo you didn’t talk much back at my house. I was hopin to get to know you more.” He explains. You turn to look at him and drink from your cup, not exactly sure what he wants to hear from you.

“Well what about your family?” He scoots a little closer to you. “M-my family?” You mutter. “Yeah your family. I assume they’re no longer with us…I mean that’s how it is now, right?” He states, you begin to slowly inch away from him. How is this any of his business? You begin to feel increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m just saying, I know how you feel. Before all this, I lost an uncle of mine. So if you need to chat at all, I’m here.” He places his hand on the small of your back, causing you to pull away from him completely. He puts his hand up in the air defensively. Before you know it, his shoulder is pushed back a little, and Carl now has his attention.

“C’mon man just back off her a little okay?” He says relatively politely. Ron laughs a little and shrugs. “I was just tryna help.” Carl scoffs. “I think she’s fine without your help.” He replies. Ron looks between the both of you for a moment and sort of laughs to himself. “You’re together aren’t you?” A smug grin forms on his face. Like he knows anything. “No, but that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re clearly weirding her out.” You place your cup down on the counter, getting ready to head out as soon as possible.

“How am I making her uncomfortable? All I’m doing is trying to help her. That’s all.” Carl rolls his eyes. You could sense that this wouldn’t end well. “Help her? That involves touching?” He remarks. He pushes past him and grabs your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and the situation. He leads out outside to the empty porch. You shiver a little at the sudden breeze of cold air that passed through. Carl noticed of course, he notices everything about you. He takes his flannel off and hands it to you.

“What about you?” You ask, taking it from his hands. He shrugs. “You matter more.” He gives you a small smile. You put the flannel on and you both lean against the railings of the house silently. He’s the first to speak up. “Sorry I wish there for you earlier.” You can see him overthink. You shake your head in response, “No don’t apologize. He didn’t get very far thanks to you.” You giggle. He smiles at that and nods.

You look off into the distance for a moment silently, your hands gently resting on the rails. After a moment you can feel his hand over yours. You’re glad to have someone like him. Someone who actually cares.

You can tell you’ll be more than friends very soon.

a/n: erm this was ass and i’m sorry about it :/ yall idk how to write endings and i know that’s prevalent IM SORRY rhrjrbtjfbfngn anyway i actually like ron and really think he’s a misunderstood character butttt THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE :>

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au future

a/n: i had this idea and needed to write it. it's a bit into the future, much past where i currently am, so feel free to skip. i'm still posting the next part later this evening, but i just needed to get this out of my head and figured i'd share lol

*gif courtesy of google*

words: 1.6k // warnings: solana is sad, roman is pissed, and their families ain't shit

taglist: @fearlesschimera @sayyestoheav3nn @annfg8 @cyberdejos2 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @trentybenty @empressdede @tshepisho @southerngirl41 @callmekayd

Solana should have listened to Roman.��

Should have known better than to ever think this was a good idea.

To think that they could have both of their families in the same vicinity and everything would go fine. Granted, the type of division she was expecting has been relatively tame. There hasn’t been any violence, largely due and thanks to the weapon deposit bins by the entrance.

Weapon free establishment and all. 

Yet, she’s not naive enough to think that the lack of guns, knives, and other unmentionables could stop her or Roman’s family from throwing down if they wanted. But, they haven’t. No punches have been thrown nor bones broken. It’s been more of a clear separation. Roman’s family only interacts with each other, and her family interacts with each other.

Not the kind of cohesion she was hoping for but a much better alternative than what it could be.

But, while conflict and violence between the in-laws has, so far, been avoided. There’s still another major issue that has Solana locked in one of the back rooms, sitting on a random chair, crying her eyes out.

The bullying. 

Towards her. 

Towards Roman.

Towards their baby.

It started out light, Solana having to politely shut down a near fight between her brother and Roman.

Wes lifted the beer to his lips, eyeing Roman. “So, how many people have you killed today, Reigns?”

“Wesley!” Solana’s sharp use of his name was conjoined with a disapproving expression. He’s too old for the petty jabs.

Roman, however, simply smiled coldly, scratching his beard as he delivered a chilling warning. “So far none, but you keep fucking talking, and I can change that real fast.”

Thankfully, Solana was able to de-escalate, her sister-in-law, Hazel, prying Wes away before any violence could commence. 

Then there was the conversation Solana unintentionally walked into while conversing with two of her older cousins she’s not as close with.

For good reasons.

“Aren’t you at all worried?”

Solana frowned. “About?”

Her cousin leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Roman as a dad. I mean, he’s not capable of love. Do you really expect him to be a good father?”

There’s no words to describe how much hearing such a thing about the man she loves hurt Solana. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her other cousin, however, simply rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, everyone knows that man is a sociopath. You’re better off cutting your losses now, taking the kid to Mexico with your mom’s side of the family, and praying he doesn’t turn out like his psycho dad.”

Solana had to excuse herself for that one. She had nothing nice to say in that moment, but beyond that, she just needed to get a few tears out.

And she did, hoping that would be the last of it, but no, that was just too good of a hope to be true. 

It was the comments overheard by some of Roman’s relatives, however, that did her in.

“I just can’t believe out of all the women, the respectable options who come from more established families, he chose her.”

The other woman snorted, shaking her head. “Right? It’s obvious she was looking for a sugar daddy. What is she, like 25?”

“I heard her father’s not doing well financially and told her to seek out Roman.”

“Makes sense. Look how easy she was. Didn’t waste any time opening up her legs and trapping him with a baby.” The woman rolled her eyes, adding, “at the very least, he could have found a Samoan woman. It’s bad enough he’s afakasi, but this child of theirs? The girl is Mexican and Black. He’ll hardly have any Samoan blood running through his veins. Our Bloodline could die out because of her.”

The first woman to speak snorted, smirking almost as she suggested, “that’s assuming it’s his baby. Roman’s smart though. I’m sure he’ll have a paternity test done as soon as she pushes out that bastard.”

“Assuming ICE doesn’t deport her first.”

The two women fell out in laughter at the same time Solana darted off, desperate to get away and have a safe space to cry. 

It’s all just been too much. Too much hatred spewed for something that should be filled with love and excitement. 

It’s been anything but, and it hurts. 

It hurts a ton. 

The knocking on the door is loud and borderline erratic, Solana quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat to inform that she’ll be out in a minute. But, a deep, familiar voice beats her to it.

“Solana.” It’s Roman, and he doesn’t sound happy. “Open the door.”

She blows out a deep breath and does her best to feign a ‘normal’ voice. “Just—just a second.”

“Now, Solana.” Before she can ask why, he adds in a calmer voice,“I know you’re crying.” Damn. 

“So you either let me in or I’ll break this goddamn door down.”

He’ll do it. She knows he will. There’s nothing ever stopping Roman from comforting or being there for her when he knows she’s upset. 

And this would definitely be one of those times. 

Solana sniffles, trying to gather herself as she carefully stands up from the toilet seat. Wiping at her eyes, she flips the lock and is barely able to turn the knob when Roman is opening the door. Stepping back, he closes it behind him and moves his hands to her face, gaze locking with hers.

“What’s wrong?”

So many things, but this isn’t the time or place, so she shakes her head. “N–nothing. I’m just—baby hormones.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, voice still surprisingly gentle. “Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

Solana looks away, hating how just that question, coming from him, tone so understanding and soft almost, is enough to pull the truth out of her.

And it does.

“You were right. This was a bad idea. I should have never—” She stops herself, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just wanted…..I thought….I thought they’d be happy for us.”

“Sol, you know it’s not that simple.” Though his words could be seen as insensitive, the way he says it is anything but. “Who said what?”

She closes her eyes, grasping onto his white button-up shirt. “It wasn’t just…..one person….it’s everybody.” He wipes at her tears, as she continues to feel the emotional weight of it all. “My family saying cruel things about you—”

“Sola—”

“Your family saying things about me, about our baby—”

At that, all gentleness drops and is replaced with something else. Something she knows Roman knows well. 

Anger.

“Who?” It’s one word. One single word that means a multitude of things and none of them good.

Solana shifts her weight, shrugging, “I—I don’t know who they are. Some….some cousins of yours. But, it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does fucking matter.” Roman drops his hands from her face to instead take her right hand in his, holding it firmly. “And we gonna address this shit right now.”

Solana's eyes widen a bit. That’s….that’s not what she wanted. “Wait, Roman—”

He’s not listening though. His stride is purposeful and determined, as he leads them out the bathroom, down the hall, and into the main section of the venue where most of their families are gathered. 

Roman guides them over to where the DJ has his setup, Solana gasping as Roman uses his free hand to yank a set of chords out the wall, effectively stopping the music. 

The DJ looks just as confused as most of the guests but cowers away in fear when Roman ‘iffs’ at him, like he’s going to hit him, before snatching the microphone. 

The abrupt ending of the music has attracted most gazes to where Roman and Solana stand, him moving them to the middle where all can see and hear.

He never once releases her hand. 

“Imma say this one time, and one time only.” She swallows, her eyes landing on her parents. Her mom looks confused, while her dad wears the same expression he’s worn since the moment Solana finally came clean about her relationship with Roman.

Disappointed. 

“Cause if I have to address this shit again, it’s not gonna be verbally.” Chills move up and down her spine. There’s not an ounce of her that questions if he’s bluffing or not. Roman doesn’t bluff. If he says it, he means it. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me. That includes her family and mine, but I’ll be damned if I let any of ya’ll disrespect her or our child.” Solana’s hand naturally moves to her belly, her bump that’s pronounced and especially visible in her white bodycon dress. “We’re together. We’re having a baby. However way any of you feel about it, keep it to your fucking selves, because there’s no reason Solana should be crying at something that’s supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She swallows, noticing how the entire room has gone silent under the deep voice of Roman’s address. There’s not a person who looks uninterested or annoyed. It’s just a sea of various scared and nervous expressions. 

“So, the next time you find yourselves talking shit about her, and especially our baby, understand it will absolutely be the last thing you ever fucking do.” Solana watches Roman begin to hand the microphone to the flabbergasted DJ before he snatches it back, turning once again toward the onlookers. “And one more thing……when you address her, make sure you do it properly.”

Solana’s throat goes dry.  She shakes her head. He can’t be doing what she thinks he’s about to do. “Roman—”

“It’s not Solana Miller.” Oh my God. “It’s Solana Reigns.”

The sea of silence quickly morphs into an ocean of various gasps, exclamations, and even shouts. 

Meanwhile, Roman simply smirks as he sticks the nail in the coffin before dropping the mic on the ground. “—we’re married.”

[mehkers]

First Day of School! …in the human realm!?

Ndfnjfjd- Sitting in my first period while writing this

Basically it’s just how the boy’s first impressions would be from another student perspective (not Mc).

Warnings: Cursing, none rlly

It takes place in a high school environment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Edgy mf

People would look at him and just know that he probably listens to MCR

Rbf the entire time

I think he’s already gained some frown lines

Def gives off ‘I’m better than you puny creatures’

Always reached his classroom on time (or earlier)

All the girls love him, and their boyfriends hate him

Is quite polite when you talk with him, but his annoyed expression says otherwise

Mammon

IM TOO YOUNG AND HOT TO BE STUCK IN PRISON

Shuts up when he gets punched by Lucifer

He gets along with everyone easily

The loudest in the class… possibly the entire school

Wearing designer clothes, so he attracts a lot of attention

Is always lost

Man doesn’t know how to read a map

He’s already made a bunch of friends

Loves school but hates the studying part (Me too Mamms 😔)

Leviathan

Save him please

His gloomy vibes is spreading to everyone

The amount of Ruri-Chan keychains he has on his bag is making too much noise

THIS IS NOT A SUITABLE ENVIRONMENT FOR A SHUT-IN OTAKU

He had to have his ass dragged by Beel who was also carrying Belphie

He is extremely shy and jumpy

Will stick to himself to entire time

Buuuut, as soon as he sees any anime merch- He’s surprisingly louder than Mammon

He wouldn’t have much friends, but he’s at least made an effort to talk to some people

Satan

Sighs

He gives Dr. Ratio vibes (hsr ref)

Look at all these peasants- WAIT IS THAT A DETECTIVE NOVEL YOU’RE READING!?

You all know it, I don’t even have to say it.. He’s in the library

I can only imagine his devastation when he sees the ‘library’ at my school

If it’s a good library, like an actual library, bro is gonna have the biggest and brightest smile the entire day that it actually becomes a bit creepy

If it’s a lame-ass library, like barely any books, you’d look at him from across the hallway and think he killed a person

Would throw a fit (I would know, cuz I did too)

He’s very charming, so all the ladies would def keep their eyes on him

He’s befriended the students, the teachers, the staff, the janitor, the PRINCIPAL-

Asmodues

Oh hun, he’s already the queen bee and center of all the drama in school

Everyone’s insecure when they see his pretty ass strutting down the halls

Not even the school air can get him

Dude already has all the scoop (he may or may not have been the reason for most it)

People would probably look at him and think ‘Oh.. he’s that popular type..”

But when they talk to him, he’s actually super sweet!

Just uh.. ignore how many students he’s already kissed ._.

Beelzebub

Tallest mofo there

Is constantly being stopped and complimented cause of his height

He’s not reserved or shy, he just doesn’t talk much

He’s the one guy who has a whole snack stall in his backpack

His locker is just filled with snacks

He is rocking gym class and/or weight training class

He’s made friends with all the jocks

Everyone’s scared of him after seeing him go on a hunger rampage when the cafeteria didn’t give him enough food-

Belphegor

If you think he’d make an effort to talk to anyone

You’re dead wrong

He’s every teacher’s worst nightmare

Sleeping in every class

Even while he’s walking down the halls

Kept getting in trouble cause of it? but since he’s a little shit, he didn’t care

Everyone mostly stayed clear of him since he gave off the ‘wake me up and your dead’ vibes

He answers every question right tho

Would totally tempt the other students to give into laziness and despair just to mess with them

And to add on to Lucifer’s growing collection of white hair

Hasn’t made any friends by the end of the day

+Bonus~!

Mc

Biggest badass

Literally survived RAD, a human school should be fine

Everyone’s confused and jealous how some random person has the attention of all the 7 new students

Literally untouchable

Talk of the town since they entered the school with the brothers

Don’t even try, you don’t have a chance to get with them

[pinguwrites]

You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it ��� the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got. 

  “I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about. 

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.” 

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.” 

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention. 

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here. 

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all. 

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money? 

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them. 

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous. 

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment. 

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice. 

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand. 

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile. 

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

 “I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.” 

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh. 

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly. 

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

 “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants. 

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg?  If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party. 

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access. 

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?” 

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining. 

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically. 

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough. 

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved. 

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck. 

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations. 

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

[phantomvegetable]

Ghostface x Reader

deceptive devices tw’s: danny johnson, strong language, panic attacks

Danny was getting bored. Day in and day out, night after night, he was tasked with picking off little worms that gave him the same reactions every time: scream, cry, plead, beg, die; cry, scream, beg, plead, die. And so the cycle would repeat.

“Come on,” He often finds himself complaining to the empty air at night, almost like a prayer to the Entity. “Give me something new. You’re a fan of chaos, aren’t you? Let’s stir some real shit up.”

Soon, his request would be acknowledged—but not without a little coaxing.

The Entity demanded to be fed, to be satiated—and when Danny may or may not have missed his quotas more than once, punishments be damned—he knew he had gotten his way when he woke in a place that was not his home. Smirking, Danny pushed his way through the fog, brushing aside the curious observation that he was not wearing his usual ghostly attire.

It was only when he came upon a campfire surrounded by familiar, undead faces that Danny realized what was being answered was not his fantasy, but actually his worst nightmare.

A girl’s head perks up at his presence before he can even hope to slink away without being noticed, having to force an unnatural smile as more eyes fell on him from the circle. Shit.

“Oh?” The same pigtailed girl raises her brows. “A new survivor?”

“Poor bastard,” An older man sighs with a shake of his head. Danny’s blood boils with indignation, fingers twitching as if they itched for a knife that he did not currently have. He could murder this entire camp within minutes—they were the unfortunate ones, not him. “What’s yer name, kid?”

Just to get a rise out of them, Danny tried to answer with a snide “Ghostface,” but found that his own body would not let him. He fought with the spell for a good few seconds before giving up with a scowl, crossing his arms much like a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny,” A woman with curly hair and glasses smiles warmly at him. He curls his lip in a half-assed attempt at a returned greeting. “My name is Claudette. Over there is Meg, and this is Bill…”

She takes a painfully long time to introduce the rest of the survivors around the fire, sans a few others who were currently in trials according to Claudette. When she finishes, Danny politely asks where he can sleep, claiming to have a whopping headache, and is pointed in the direction of their tent site. He thanks them with a wry smile before abruptly turning on his heel, his face dropping into a sour expression.

This was not what he meant when he said he wanted a change, at all.

“Two can play at that game,” Danny utters under his breath, making a break for it once he’s out of sight. The fog promptly swallows him, chews him up, and spits him right back out to where he started.

So he tries again. And again, and again until Danny inevitably has to accept that he is stuck un the survivor’s camp. “What’s to stop me from killing them?” He asks the fog.

There is no reply. Danny grumbles.

For starters, he didn’t have a weapon—he’d have to swipe one off of one of the meatsacks, if they even had any. Secondly, if they decided to gang up on him and fight back, he would be seriously outnumbered…

The cons outweighed the pros, and Danny unsatisfactorily had to settle for doing nothing—for now, at least.

Deciding on a tent at random—he didn’t care whose it was—Danny slipped inside, snooping around personal belongings until sleep weighed his bones down like an old friend wanting to catch up after decades of being away. And, begrudgingly, Danny allows his eyes to close for the first time in a long, long time.

———

Something cold and wet jostles Danny from his rest a few hours later, causing him to stir with a snort. He opens his eyes to a black nose sniffing at him, followed by a brown-eyed gaze and floppy ears that perked curiously in his direction. A dog?

Danny stretches a hand out to the creature, earning a flinch and it backing up a few inches. He tries to coax it. “Shh, there, there…” It growls lowly before barking at him once. Danny cringes. “Hush, you mangy mutt..”

It barks again, tail wagging. Ugh.

A voice calls out a name—the dog’s, he supposes—which causes the canine to turn. Moments later, a head pokes through the flaps of the tent and peers down at Danny. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Against my will…” Danny bites out bitterly. You don’t laugh.

“Well, good. Then you can tell me what the hell you’re doing in my tent.”

“Just having a little shuteye,” Danny groans as he sits up, rubbing at his face. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept that long—it was almost as if he was cursed to remain active at all times in this place as a killer while the human survivors were afforded all the luxury of sleeping after trials. It irks him. “And I didn’t know this was your tent. How am I supposed to know whose is whose?”

You cross your arms, eyes narrowing harshly. “If you had bothered to listen to anything Claudette told you, you would have found your tent on the other side of camp.”

“Geez, aren’t you a ray of sunshine…” Danny stands after popping his back, finally taking in your appearance. You must have been in a trial during his arrival, because he doesn’t recognize you—and he would. Fiery eyes, a cross attitude… you were just his type. Danny chuckles to himself.

“Something funny?” You raise a brow. Danny’s back to playing pretend, waving his hands dismissively.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” He then juts his chin at the dog that woke him up, the animal now sitting on its haunches and looking up at you with its tongue lolling out. “Who’s the pooch?”

Your eyes flitter to it, then back to Danny, your feet shuffling in a way that lets him know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of giving the information away. “This is Daisy,” You introduce after a minute. “She’s my dog.”

“You don’t say,” Danny hums as he bends down to pet her. Daisy’s ears pin back before his hand touches her head, and she lets out a warning growl that has him backing off quickly. “Charming, isn’t she?” Your eyes rake him up and down.

“She doesn’t trust strangers,” You say lowly. “Especially creepy ones. And I find that she’s usually on the right track.” Danny feigns being hurt.

“You don’t even know me, Sunshine,” He juts his lip in a pout.

“That’s exactly why I don’t trust you,” You spit vehemently, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You may have the others fooled, but I know what you are.” Danny stills at that. Could you actually know?

“Oh?” He breathes, losing his playfulness. “And what would that be?” You shudder.

“I—I don’t know,” You veer, eyes flashing with momentary uncertainty. Then you’re back to a steely expression. “But what I do know is that something about you is off, and I will be watching you very closely.” Danny smirks, hackles lowering. So you didn’t know.

He leans in close, relishing in the way you recoil. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He purrs, tone light. You push him away in disgust, stepping back to give him space to exit.

“Get out.”

He happily obliges.

———

It’s a few days before Danny’s first trial as a survivor, giving him enough time to get a feel for his new teammates. Claudette, Kate, and Mikaela are all bleeding hearts who are quick to accept him without wasting a breath. Dwight and Meg are a bit more on the fence about him, but seem more willing to give him a chance than others. Then there’s you, Jake, and Bill, who are skeptical of his easygoing nature, casting looks in his direction anytime he passed by. Danny didn’t care—he welcomed the attention. Finally, there was Ace, who didn’t seem to care much about anything. He was just happy to have another player.

“Trust me, Danny-o,” Ace says while throwing an arm around his shoulders. It takes everything in Danny not to twist and break the appendage. “I’m like a good luck charm. Stick by me, and we’re sure to win.”

“Oh, sure,” Meg snorts, rolling her eyes from where she sits on a log across from them. “Like you bring us all to victory.”

“I help!” Ace counters, sitting up. “I’m at least better than slick over there who just creeps around with her dog.” You snort.

“And whose dog was it that saved you from nearly having your legs chopped off?”

Ace sputters, unable to come up with a retort. Danny’s gaze drops to Daisy.

“Does she come into trials with us?”

“She does,” You utter without looking up, focused on the piece of wood you’re sharpening. But Danny’s itching to get your eyes on him.

“Where did you find her?” He asks, strategically pinning you with a question. You falter, glancing down at Daisy who is asleep by your feet. Finding your resolve, you go back to gliding the stone against the stick in your hands, beating Danny at his own game.

“I didn’t. Like anything else in the fog—she came to me.”

“That reminds me of how I found my guitar!” Kate chirps, bringing the group’s attention on her. She continues her story about how when she was at her lowest point of despair, she was given her instrument, and blah blah blah blah. Danny wasn’t listening—he was solely honed in on you. Were you looking for Daisy when you found her? If so, how was it that you were given something that you cared about whereas he ended up stranded amongst a group of morons? It made no sense—and, honestly, it was a bit unfair. Frowning, Danny fails to realize you’ve met his stare. You cock a brow suspiciously.

“Something bothering you?”

“No,” Danny mutters, shrugging off Ace’s arm that was still on him and standing to his feet. “I’m going to bed,” He announces before stalking off without waiting for acknowledgement. He feels your eyes piercing his back as he leaves, no longer thrilled that he is your focal point in that moment.

On his way to his tent, Danny feels a somewhat-familiar breeze that whisks him away into a trial, the Entity promptly placing him in the streets of Haddonfield that Danny recognizes instantly. He rolls his eyes, the irritation he felt from earlier starting to take the form of a headache. He sees now why survivors needed sleep so much—they were so damn fragile.

“Let’s get this over with,” Danny sighs to himself, immediately setting out to find his old friend Myers.

He passes by generators, not bothering to fix them as Danny instead sweeps the area for any sign of Michael. He tries houses, trodden gardens, and the outskirts of the woods lining the neighborhood without finding so much as a bloody footprint. Growing increasingly frustrated, Danny follows his tracks back to where he saw one of the survivors—Meg, he thinks—slinking around in one of the homes.

If he couldn’t find Myers, he would just have to use bait.

Upon his silent arrival, Meg jerks abruptly once catching sight of him, causing the generator she’s working on to implode noisily. “Jesus!” She gasps, hand over her racing heart. Danny tries to hide a cocky smirk. “What are you doing just standing there?” Meg hisses, nervously scanning behind him. “The killer could see you!”

“Oh, I’m not too worried,” Danny says nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall. Meg narrows her eyes, mouth opening to bark something else at him when she tenses up. Strangely enough, Danny stiffens at the same time as her, an unfamiliar and unwelcoming sense of dread taking control of his senses. Meg inhales sharply, and Danny doesn’t have to turn around to know what she sees.

“Run!” She cries, scrambling to her feet as she high-tails it out of the room. Danny merely watches her go, a humorous chuckle escaping his lips.

“Never gets old, am I right?” He angles himself to face Michael, who just seems to stare at him. Danny forces down the terror that seems to rise in his throat, willing his heart to stop its incessant pounding. “Alright, now I know what you must be thinking. Why is he out of costume? Why is he talking to survivors? Well, I’m just as confused as you, bub.” Danny takes a step forward. “Now, will you please help me out of here so I can get back to what I do best?”

Michael, as per usual, is silent. But that isn’t what concerns Danny, no—it’s his body language.

Michael is poised as if he’s confused—which, admittedly, Danny would be at a loss too if he were in Myers’ position—and appears as though he doesn’t recognize him. His knife is half-raised, as if conflicted. He looks like he’s either ready to run away from or at Danny. Danny takes another step forward.

“Come on, bub. It’s me—don’t you recognize me?”

A pause, an uncertain shift, and then Michael’s knife is suddenly plunged into Danny’s shoulder.

Pain lights his every nerve on fire and Danny hollers out of shock and agony, staggering backwards as Michael pulls his knife back with a squelching sound. Blood spills onto his clothes, the floor, and down Michael’s arm, and Danny doesn’t find enjoyment in knowing that it’s his.

“Myers—“ He grunts, hand pressing into his wound. “What the—ngh—fuck? It’s me!”

But he isn’t listening. Michael moves forward threateningly, and Danny is appalled at how he flinches back. His heart is racing, his shoulder is throbbing, and he can’t stop hyperventilating. Panic sets in, blowing his pupils wide. Michael was going to kill him.

A flash of movement clouds Danny’s vision followed by a bright light that sends Michael reeling. Danny feels hands on him, helping him up, and before he knows it he’s being escorted out by someone.

They run, turning corners and vaulting platforms, until Danny asks to stop, his lungs begging for air. The hands let him go, allowing Danny to slide to the grass a bleeding mess, unable to catch his breath. He can’t focus on anything—his vision is all a blur. Everything starts to go dark when suddenly a weight is on his lap, grounding him momentarily. Finding the ability to raise his arm, Danny reaches out to first feel something soft, then a collar, then floppy ears.

“Just breathe,” A voice—your voice—finally registers in his ears, providing an overwhelming sense of calm that washes over him. “You’re okay.”

Danny wordlessly pets who he now realizes is Daisy, allowing her steady breathing to take charge in leading his own uneven breaths. He doesn’t even register that you’ve begun to stitch up his injury until he jumps at a particularly sharp prick.

“Sorry,” You mumble, not making eye contact. “Almost done.” You’re more careful this time, pulling the string taught before clipping it with your teeth. You move his clothes back into place, sitting yourself next to him after closing up your med kit and placing it to the side. You’re quiet, which Danny is grateful for while he searches to find his voice.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” He settles on, forcing a wobbly grin that you don’t return. He drops the act as he hisses out in pain.

“Why didn’t you run?” You ask bluntly. “You know they want to kill us, right?”

“Ngh… guess not,” Danny grimaces. “I thought having a little heart to heart would change his mind.” Your lips barely quirk up. Danny still counts it as finally being able to crack a smile out of you.

You sigh, standing to your feet after a moment. You offer a hand to help him up, Danny using his good arm to hoist himself to his feet. Daisy sits back, panting, carefree.

“Guess you’re not as threatening as I thought you were,” You murmur, more to yourself than to him. Danny still pretends to take offense.

“Not threatening?” He scoffs, leaning his head back. “Dollface, I could slice you into pieces with a toothpick if I wanted to.”

There’s a truth to his words that you don’t quite pick up on. Instead, you roll your eyes, motioning for him and Daisy to follow. “Yeah, yeah,” You dismiss him, throwing Danny for a loop when you take his hand in yours. “We can test that theory after we escape this killer, yeah?” You fix him with a look that is much softer than it ever has been, making Danny simultaneously freeze and melt at the same time. He can’t stop the smile that stretches across his face.

“Looking forward to it,” He banters. You squeeze his hand in retaliation.

[schoenpepper]

Spiraling

Intro: Ace would make for a very bad detective.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, very bad words, kind of crack???, not yuu, not in heartslabyul reader so pick a different dorm, bad suicide jokes

A/N: Woah I am aliveeee and kind of kicking-ish. Sorry these are so slow, I was busy...studying (grinding for kinich's weapon because the weapon banner is my mortal enemy). For @xphantasmagoriax on my Fate, Destiny, and a Shit Ton of Mushrooms event.

Masterlist

“One. More. Word.”

“Trey senpai said he already has someone he likes—” smack! “Ow! ”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Dear sevens help you when the time comes; you can no longer restrain yourself, and it ends with the murder of one Ace “Dumbass” Trappola. It’s okay because your second cousin’s girlfriend’s aunt is a great defense attorney, so if you make it look enough like an accident…

“I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Shut up!” you hit Ace’s shoulder one more time for good measure.

The redhead shrugs and, perhaps out of what twisted sense of sympathy he has left, your stupid best friend pats your head (or maybe this is just his way of emphasizing your height). “It’s okay doofus, there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” you smack his hand away with a grimace. He just doesn’t get it. Trey isn’t just some guy you saw one day and decided, ‘that one, I want that one right there’. No, Trey is someone that the universe has linked you with; he’s the person who fate itself wants to be with you forever.

Trey Clover is your soulmate.

Who apparently wants absolutely nothing to do with you.

The first meeting was so cliche it made you want to throw up, but in a sense, it was a meet cute.

Just kidding. It was a meet disastrous.

The stack of ungraded potionology quizzes in your hand (Ace’s on the topmost with at least half the answers that you can vaguely guess as incorrect), a large crowd of rowdy teenage boys littering the hallway—it’s fairly obvious you’re unlikely to pass through unscathed. But being the stubborn person you are, you trudge onwards with little to no fear. Surely when they see you coming through with Crewel’s stuff, they’d be polite enough to make way for you and—

Of course not. How dare you assume that NRC students have even a modicum of decency? You tumble on the floor like a ball, papers flying everywhere.

And you’re saved from the fate of picking up each and every one by hand.

Magic flows through the air like a breeze, tinged with the smell of puff pastry. The papers float before ever reaching the ground, flying single file into a neat stack as your savior holds out a hand to you. Straight, silky locks of hair like ceremonial-grade matcha, pretty honey eyes that looked just as sweet when they reflected your figure. The man looks positively delicious, that’s for sure. You take his hand, and he pulls you back up to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmur in a daze, “you’re hot as fuck.”

…Wait, what?

He was about to hand you the pile of papers when he doubles over in laughter from your blunt words. Heat creeps up your face with many legs, like a spider of shame shooting your cheeks with webbing. ‘Shame on you, Y/N, how thirsty must you be to just hit on a random guy?!’

‘But I didn’t even mean to say that!’

Your inner war is quelled when the handsome guy gives you the stack of quizzes.

“Thanks, I’m flattered,” he grins, one eyebrow raised and the other arched. “I must admit, it’s not too often I hear compliments as straightforward.”

“You mean shameless?” What? Why would you say that?

You cover your mouth with a start. Words seem to be against you today, and you’d be damned if you spill out the rest of your thoughts to this dude who seems to already see you as a laughingstock.

Anyway, that was the day you found out that Trey Clover, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul, was your soulmate.

Soulmates aren’t ridiculously uncommon, but they’re quite difficult to find. After all, the only way you’ll know if someone is your soulmate is by talking to them and trying to lie or keep something to yourself. When you realize you’re physically incapable of anything but telling the truth, that’s your soulmate.

The problem!

That short encounter was clearly not enough for your upperclassman to realize that you’re his soulmate. And you’re a coward. Lacking audacity if you will. In Ace’s words—

“Damn, why don’t you just stop being such a fucking pussy?”

You glare at him, “Meow, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

So two weeks with no contact at all, only helpless pining. Ace swears up and down that you’ve become a stalker with how much you’re staring at the guy, which is why you’ve never told him that you have, in fact, stalked Trey’s social media accounts. And eventually you’re led down the path of thinking:

You should, like, totally make a move. Totally. But to be super duper extra sure that you even can make a move, you make use of your resident dumbass (who also happens to be in Heartslabyul) to scope out the enemy (read: your future husband).

And the ginger returns unvictorious.

Okay, you’re caught up now. On to real time.

Real time, you’re sulking because why is your soulmate in love with someone already?! It’s just not fair. 1 out of 20 people never meet their soulmate, and 5 out of 30 don’t even realize they’d met their soulmate until it was too late!

You’re apparently in that five out of thirty statistic.

You could approach him. Tell him you’re his soulmate. Would he choose you over that person that he already likes? Is a soulmate worth half as much as you’re making it out to be? There’s a pang in your heart; it hurts because the person you’ve been waiting for your whole life didn’t wait for you at all.

Were you not worth waiting for?

“I mean, he likes someone,” Ace speaks up, “but he never said he was in a relationship. You could still confess.”

Right.

Y/N YOU HOMEWRECKING SLU—

No no, you’re not a homewrecker yet. There’s still hope.

THERE’S NO HOPE!

You’re done for. You’ll live a long and lonely life because Trey Clover found someone he likes, and it’s just not you.

Ace seems genuinely dumbfounded at the sudden waterworks, but you can’t stop the tears when the realization sinks in. Tomorrow, it’ll be Valentine's Day, and you’ll be spending the day crying into a tub of half-melted ice cream because the other half of your heart is out there, and he’s probably [redacted] some other [redacted]. “He will rue the day he rejected me,” you mumble as you wipe your tears away on Ace’s jacket sleeve.

“Ew, gross! Get away!”

Fast forward, and your plans are ruined because the school does not give a fuck about whether or not your future ‘forever’ just DUMPED you. A Tuesday is still a Tuesday, and a Tuesday means ✨physical education with Coach Vargas✨. You trudge on over to the field in your fugly PE uniform, hair looking like it got swept through by a hurricane and deep bags under reddened, swollen eyes. You expect a rowdy scene upon your arrival: a teasing Ace, a worried Deuce, a laughing Grim, and a Yuu who’s very likely to push you right back into bed. You get—

“Y/N. I like you.”

Oh Ursula, Queen of Hearts, Jafar, all of the seven, please, please just kill me where I stand.

The prayer doesn’t work. The ground does not open up and swallow you whole.

In the middle of the field is your matcha-haired school senior, holding a large bouquet of ruby-red roses with a shy smile. Behind him is a large group of Caters; one is holding up a camera; the rest are holding up placards that spell out ‘Y/N x Trey Forever’ and truly, you’ve never felt so suicidal in your life than in this moment of public execution. You try to smile through your tears of shame, and when you try to speak niceties, you’re very rudely reminded of the soulmate thing.

“Wow. I hate it. I like you, senpai, but I hate your confession so much I want to cry.”

Anyway, it turns out Ace forgot to ask who Trey liked. But at least you won’t die alone?

[yournightmary]

Gryffindor!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, Hogwarts!AU, reader wears a dress, nothing else I think

AN:: Is this a very specific thing that no one asked for? yes. Will I still write this? also yes. Replaying Hogwarts Legacy for the 3rd time, sorry.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I couldn’t figure out what house she would be in but I think it would be gryffindor? At least that’s the one that makes the most sense to me.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ For anyone that isn’t really into Harry Potter, later years are set in the mid/late 90s… which makes me want to write 90s!Ellie oh my fucking god.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who either has a pet rat or an ugly cat. I’m leaning towards the rat though. It’s definitely one of those albino rats with red eyes, named something like ‘Crouton’.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who constantly sneaks off into the Forbidden Forest, way too often for her own safety. She’s just so mysterious and cool. At least that’s what she thinks.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who is infamous for her beaten up sneakers. They’re definitely taped up in some places and she doodles on them whenever she’s bored. Which is most of the time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who wears the ugliest, scratchiest, grandpa-looking flannel shirts and sweaters. Some people say that she stole them from Filch’s closet.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who is a menace to everyone the professors. Not paying attention during class but they can’t even do anything because somehow she knows all the answers/brews potions perfectly/knows how to cast spells. Girlie is naturally smart and talented.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who wanted to play quidditch but flying a broom is the only thing she’s bad at. Probably fell off of it during tryouts and got humiliated:(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who met you while sneaking into the restricted section in the library. She was looking for a dark spellbook to get revenge on someone while you just wanted to learn more about divination.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who made you her partner in crime, whether you wanted it or not. Constantly asking you to steal something for her or distract someone while she does whatever she does.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who ran out of potions class when she smelled your perfume in the amortentia. A few people have done that, so no one really paid attention. You on the other hand have smelled mint, cigarette smoke and cookies. The ones that Ellie loves… funny, right?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Elllie who asked you to the Yule Ball (let’s just pretend it happens every year, without a tournament) like a day before, under the impression that no one else wanted to go with you. Rightfully, you got pissed (and a little sad that she thought no one wanted you) and declined not-so-politely.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who you’ve found crying in one of the more secluded hallways late into the night of the ball. After you declined she asked some random guy just so she wouldn’t be without a date, he turned out to be a total dick and the whole experience was shit.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who cried even more when she saw you in your beautiful dress, which looked way too similar to not be matching with the suit of some guy she saw earlier. A guy who asked you a full week before Ellie did, and you agreed because you thought she wouldn’t ask you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who invited you to dance once a slow song came on, even though you could barely hear it over the thick walls of the castle. Cried in your arms and acted like she didn’t after.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who always sneaks you into the gryffindor common room (if you’re not in the same house).

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who stole fire whiskey from some shop in Hogsmeade and got you both drunk. Somehow convinced you that taking a stroll around the castle in the middle of the night is an excellent idea. You got a ton of bruises from bumping into everything while she almost fell off of the Grand Staircase. 3 week detention.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who loves to duel with you. Always says she’ll go easy on you but struggles the whole time and ends up getting her ass beat.

My brain is fried and I hate what I wrote.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

5 times Steph and Eddie refer to each other as husband and wife +1 time they make it official

Part 1 (also on ao3 here)

...............................................

Stevie probably should have shut this all down weeks ago.

The kids have been calling her mom since before she even came out to them, so she’s admittedly kind of given up on stopping that one. The problem is now they’ve gotten Eddie in on it.

Well, Eddie’s not calling her mom. If he started doing that, she thinks she’d no longer be fit for public. She’d have to crawl in a hole and never come out, like how old cats sometimes wander away to die alone, except she’d be dying not of old age but of the mortification of an unrequited crush. So luckily, that isn’t happening.

But now, as she arrives at the Wheelers’ house to pick up the kids after a D&D session, she’s forced to confront the fact that Eddie calling her mom is not apparently the worst thing that could come of this whole thing.

It starts when she’s getting on Dustin’s case about leaving his shit all over the basement. These kids treat every space they’re in like they own it, but Stevie is very aware how hard Karen had to work to convince Ted to let Eddie host Hellfire here, and she’s not about to let that hard work go to waste just because the kids left the basement a bomb site.

Dustin rolls his eyes at her nagging, lets out a long-suffering sigh and a “Yes, mom,” and Stevie has barely finished giving him an obligatory sisterly noogie before things get out of hand.

“If Stevie’s our mom, does that make Eddie our dad?” Lucas says, casually, completely unaware that putting ‘Eddie’ and ‘dad’ in the same sentence has just completely broken Stevie’s brain.

Eddie, though. Eddie smells blood in the water. He’s got that look on his face, that one Stevie usually loves, the one he always gets right before he commits to a bit with overdramatic vigour.

Sure enough, Eddie immediately prostrates himself over the couch, hand to his forehead, looking the picture of a lovelorn idiot. “Stevie,” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “It’s just been so hard, raising our kids alone since the divorce.”

Stevie scoffs. “You’re raising our kids? You get them for a few hours once a week, pretty sure I’m the one shuttling their ungrateful asses to and from school every day.”

“Ungrateful?” Dustin splutters, as if he doesn’t show up at Stevie’s door at entirely random times of the day and demands she drive him to whatever nerd shit he’s got going on next.

“You’re right, that’s unfair,” she says, and then before anyone can get a word in: “You’re lovely, Will, always so polite. But the rest of you little shits. Ungrateful.”

Will smiles serenely as his friends immediately erupt into complaints, and Eddie ignores them all to prostrate himself at Stevie’s feet.

“I know I haven’t been around often, but baby, won’t you give me another chance?”

Stevie thinks she’d probably give Eddie anything he asked for, as long as he’s asking on his knees before her. It’s definitely a good look for him, and it’s only the clamour of the kids around her that keeps her face from going bright red.

She’s gotta play it cool here. Roll with the ridiculousness, always the best way to deal with Eddie, to keep him grinning at her like that, his whole face lit up like sunshine.

“Well…” she says, pretending to think it over, like she wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat if he asked for real. That would be a bit much, given they’ve only known each other for a year and some change. “I suppose… although I’m not seeing a ring.”

Eddie grins like she’s fallen into some trap, and immediately slides the ring off his right hand- her favourite one with the big round stone in the middle that she likes to play with sometimes when they’re smoking together- and holds it up to her, a challenge in his eyes. Well. Only way out is through. She holds out her hand for him, the left one, and he slides the ring gently onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly.

“There you go,” he says, softly. His eyes are so warm, like pools of melted chocolate, and Stevie feels like she might drown in them. Her whole world has narrowed to the man on his knees before her- she’s distantly aware of the kids around them losing their minds (she’s pretty sure Mike is gagging, but that’s so far from her mind right now it might as well be happening on a different planet).

Eddie smiles up at her. “There’s my wife.”

“Your wife,” she whispers, unbearably fond. Stevie wants to hear him call her that for the rest of her life.

This really isn’t helping with her crush.

Sound filters in slowly, the world around them coming back in with the hushed whispers of the kids. Honestly, they’re quieter than she thought they’d be after this display, although the way Mike is rubbing his ribs suggests that this peace was hard won. They round the kids up pretty easily after that, with surprisingly little complaining as Stevie harangues them into cleaning up their shit. Eddie helps, occasionally glancing up at Stevie and looking quickly away with a fierce blush.

Later, after Stevie’s dropped off most of the kids and it’s only her and Will left in the car, riding home in silence as Stevie fiddles with the ring still on her finger, she tries not to read too much into everything that just happened. Will isn’t helping.

“So,” he says, in that sly, quiet way of his. “How long have you and Eddie been together?”

Stevie splutters. “That’s not- we’re not together. That was just- you know how Eddie is, he’s… theatrical.”

Will hums noncommittally. “He is. I don’t think that’s what that was, though. You like him, right?”

If this was any of the kids other than Will, Stevie thinks she’d deny it. God knows Dustin couldn’t be trusted with that information. But Will, quiet, sensitive Will- she thinks he’d get it.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I really do. But it’s not- he doesn’t like me like that.”

She pulls up to the Byers’ house and parks the car in the drive. They both sit for a moment, basking in the silence. After a moment, Will suddenly leans over the gearshift, wrapping Stevie up in a weird, slightly uncomfortable hug. It feels nice.

“For what it’s worth,” he says as he pulls back and opens his door, “he looked really happy when he called you his wife. Even Eddie’s not that good of an actor.”

With that, he gently closes the car door behind him. Stevie watches as he runs up to his front door, and waves when Joyce comes out to greet him.

She drives most of the way home on autopilot, fiddling with the ring on her finger and thinking of Eddie’s face as he’d placed it on her hand. His gentle smile, his warm, chocolate eyes, full of something like love. His fingers had been rough with callouses as they’d brushed against hers, but still soft in a way that had nothing to do with his skin.

Maybe, she thinks, as she enters her quiet mausoleum of a house. Just maybe.

She goes to sleep that night, alone in her bed, with her last sight before unconsciousness being that of a gleaming ring on her left finger, and dreams of a husband who loves her.

[kyushiblast]

Hiii !

May i ask for some jealousy with (separate) team star x reader ? Like their s/o is being close with someone else, or just general thoughts about it. I lack originality but there’s sooo little stuff with them

Only take the guys if all five are too much

Most importantly, have a good day ‼️

⤷ 〝 hit up. 〞

➞ pairing : giacomo , ortega , atticus , mela , & eri x gn! reader

➞ summary : team star reactions to someone hitting on you.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : slight cursing

➞ a/n : i cannot DESCRIBE how hard i mentally screamed when i saw mela for the second time playing through pokemon violet. like please , she’s not the fire crew boss for nothing

❝ giacomo ❞

— ★ really pissed off.

— ★ of course, he’d probably try to hide it from the other person—scoffing and glaring at the other whilst behind you.

— ★ i kind of imagine him, if it were in a private place, to be blasting music anytime the other would talk just to annoy them more.

— ★ if the other tries dissing his music, he’ll probably break a fuse—especially if it was dedicated to you. but then he’ll calm down, because if he’s ever learned something from bullies, it’s that all they want is a reaction to their taunting.

— ★ doesn’t care how loud he yells in public unless it makes you uncomfortable.

— ★ giacomo would roast the person in return, hook his arm around your shoulder, and amble off with the middle finger up at the person just to spite them.

— ★ and despite looking all tough and whatnot, he’d still pleasantly kiss you on the lips afterward.

❝ ortega ❞

— ★ will roast the heck out of the other. when i tell you he is the most mischievous, best representing with a shit eating grin i mean it.

— ★ the other person’s flirting with you? get FLAMED by ortega. and he’s not even the fire type crew leader, but he is going to be ROASTING the other like there’s no tomorrow.

— ★ “sorryyy, i would battle you, but my pokémon tend to get bored in the middle of battles with low-life losers like you,” he’d say.

— ★ will cling to your arm subconsciously, pissing off the other more. and if you’re able enough, he’ll want a back ride right in front of the person.

— ★ and then after, when the person leaves as a wreck from ortega’s sharp remarks and lines, ortega would probably wave bye to them saying something like: “byee, cya never!”

— ★ finally, he’d pepper your face with kisses no matter how dorky it looks.

❝ atticus ❞

— ★ the calmest of the bunch.

— ★ will be polite with a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice.

— ★ if the person doesn’t leave, he’ll start becoming more annoyed. but since he’s not the type to stir a scene, he’ll just tenderly take your hand and walk off with you.

— ★ if the person follows, they’re just asking for trouble. POKÉMON BATTLE TIIIIIME

— ★ after drenching them with a poisonous defeat, he would say in his own atticus way that the person needs to move on.

— ★ then he’d start thanking you for not going with that other person and he’ll vent about how he hates when people are like this.

— ★ expect more scheduled dates after!!

❝ mela ❞

— ★ hot tempered. would accuse the other of trying to steal you away before stating that they have no chance.

— ★ no mercy whatsoever, except maybe for a little pity glare that screams “go away!” to the other if they seem apologetic enough.

— ★ will walk in front of you and hold out her arm protectively—maybe out of habit in her earlier years—even if you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.

— ★ she’s dominant in the conversation. will barely let the other talk. the only thing she’ll gladly hear is their apologizing for hitting on you and/or admittance that they’re no match for her.

— ★ after, she’s miss mean-but-with-good-intentions again! she’ll tsk and deny everything if you tease her.

— ★ expect random acts of kindness after.

❝ eri ❞

— ★ the nicest. she’ll politely explain that you’re spoken for and ask for them to stop.

— ★ and if they don’t? then she’ll step it up and insist more. will point towards a pokémon battle.

— ★ she’s extra set on doing her best, especially since if she loses she’ll lose her pride of being strong for you. her pokemon seem to sense that too.

— ★ after, if she notices that the pokemon of the other seem to have a close bond to their trainer, signaling that the person’s not as bad as they show but just desperate, she’ll hype ‘em up saying something like: “i’m sure there’s someone out there fit for you!” but if it’s the opposite, she’s going to be naturally cold to them.

— ★ and as the other slumps away, she’ll hug you and ask if she did well.

— ★ she’ll take you to eat somewhere afterwards.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

[jinuaei]

Yandere slasher/nearsighted darling - Roomies

Warning: supposedly yandere

So apparently the person you talked to last night was NOT your roomie, because her corpse was found 10 feet away from the house, hanged and gutted like a fish. You learned this the morning after, when a police officer knocked on your door which prompted you to wake up scrambling for your glasses, the interrogation was nerve wracking considering you just woke up and was immediately told that your roommate died. Luckily, you were able to explain where you were and what you were doing during the time she got slaughtered, it was around the same time you were on the phone with your friend, just moments before you made dinner. Still, you think the police consider you as a suspect considering your roommate died the day you finally moved in. Wait, who was that guy anyway? Shit, you forgot to tell the police officer about them.

You would be lying if you said you were sad, scared yes, but sad? Not really, you just met her after all, and the only time that you met it was when she ignored you after opening the front door. But now you’re in a small dilemma, should you live alone and bear the rent all by yourself or find a roomie to split the bills?

… 

Yeah no, you can’t afford to rent the whole house, not only that, you barely know anyone in the town and your way around it. Maybe it’s better to find a new roomie, hopefully they are better than your old one, R.I.P to her…you didn’t even know her name, and now you feel horrible. 

Shaking your head, you open your laptop to write an advertisement for a roommate, listing down the price for their part of the pay and other details. After pressing send you get up from your seat, you go downstairs to make some lunch for yourself, I should start finding a job… Which you did after eating your lunch. The day goes by without a hitch and you’re honestly glad about that, still, it’s pretty weird knowing that a murder happened so near the house. Ah, you should lock the doors and windows before going to bed.

Lost in your thoughts you almost didn’t notice the doorbell ringing. Confusion turned into worry as you did not expect anybody today, especially 7pm at night, is it the person from last night? You shook your head and walked towards the door, looking at the peephole to see who it was. A random guy is on your front porch! What the fuck? Your first reaction was to panic but you were able to calm yourself, maybe the guy just needed help, that’s all. 

The door opens with a slight creak and the person behind the door peers between the crack, eyes darting towards the man. “Do you need anything sir…?” 

“I’m here for the ad for a roommate? Is this the right house?”, Look at you, so nervous, so adorable. His expression is one of politeness but inside, the urge to kill you right here is winning against his plan to let you live and use you as an alibi of sorts. But when you fully open the door and greet him with a smile, the latter won without question…That was too quick of a decision, even for him. Whatever, you’ll be more useful alive anyways

[communistkenobi]

if you don't feel like taking the time to explain this to a random person I totally understand lol I will continue to look elsewhere to form an opinion. but I'm torn on not voting for biden, because I do understand the motive. he's terrible, teaching the democratic party a hard lesson is overdue. they need to be taught once and for all that they need to actually fucking deliver on their lofty virtuous promises or they will lose all support. on the other hand if you're following closely the shit trump's people are spewing right now he just keeps getting worse and worse and overtly fascist and ambitious, it's incredibly frightening atp, it's obvious that he will only make everything that's bad now in the usa and in palestine and everywhere else 10000x worse for a long time to come, I just don't know if the damage from another trump presidency is a worthy price to pay to stick it to joe

I’m going to be blunt, but I genuinely do not mean this in a rude or condescending way, I invite you to think about this deeply: do you legitimately think that if the democrats get re-elected they’re going to stop any of the horrific shit the republicans want to implement, either domestically or overseas? Has their track record given you any hope that that will happen? If you vote for them as they gleefully, openly carry out a genocide, literally what incentive do they have to stop Republicans at all? If their voter base is that secure, that loyal, what incentive do they have to protect their constituents or address their needs when in power? Protecting Roe v Wade was what made voting for Biden an existential necessity in 2020 and that still got trashed! People are still in cages at the US-Mexico border! Cop city is being built in Atlanta! Police brutality against Black people continues unabated! Pipelines are still being built on indigenous land (DAPL happened under Obama)! The threat against minority populations, the truly disadvantaged and oppressed people inside the US, are already living with this violence on a daily basis and have lived with it regardless of who is in office. To assume the threat of fascist violence has not yet arrived, has not yet been developing for decades, is to ignore these things.

I do not think the democrats need to be ‘taught a lesson’ or that you need to ‘stick it to Joe.’ The Democrats are not failing to deliver on their promises - these are their promises. Even on a purely self-interested level, ignoring the genocide currently happening, you are not going to be protected from fascists domestically by voting blue no matter who. Certainly there are local elections and movements were there is genuine progressive potential (Ohio just voted to legalise weed and support abortion, a legit good thing that was absolutely worth going out and voting for), but that is not the reality of the national party. The primary language available to voters as voters is to stop voting for them.

The fascist right in the US (both ‘populist’ groups like qanon and the proud boys, as well as institutional groups like the federalist society, the heritage foundation, etc, the list is endless, not to mention evangelical churches) is organised and developed enough that they will continue to hold power and influence regardless of who is in office. The genocide happening in Palestine right now, carried out by a democrat, is not a neatly contained far-away thing that can be separated from domestic politics (I am not claiming you’re making that argument, only trying to articulate my own point) - it is already having a profound and measurable impact on the US population in the form of increased racist, islamophobic and antisemitic violence, mass police brutality, institutional silencing and firing of anyone who even says the word genocide, etc. I think it’s productive to view those actions as developing fascist actions, actions which are being stoked by a democrat. And if they are not outright fascist, they are certainly a precursor to it. In the last couple years there have been a lot of stupid, incompetent demonstrations by the far right in the US - Unite the Right rally, the storming of the capitol, Qanon-motivated assaults and murders like the attempted plot to kidnap the Michigan governor, that one mob guy who was murdered by a Qanon follower in New York I think, Alex Jones being a national figurehead for the conspiratorial and openly fascist right (although he’s probably not going to continue to be that now that he lost a billion dollars in his court cases lol), the “stop the steal” legal attempt to contest the results of the 2020 election - these are ridiculous and on-the-surface ineffective attempts to express a fascistic will onto USAmerican institutions (“inchoate fascism,” a fascism not yet fully formed, a fascism in an experimental phase). But I think the genocide in Palestine is allowing for the effective version of those things to be done in the US. The hysteria, the rage, the violence that this genocide is producing “at home” is not going to dissipate if a democrat continues to hold office, and the Palestinian genocide is both an organising force for the current fascist right and an inciting force for it to further develop and grow. This larger debate about voting or not voting seems to be operating on the (correct) assumption that foreign policy is not a meaningful realm of difference between democrats and republicans, that the only space to battle over is domestic affairs. But absent from this debate is that these two things can’t be neatly partitioned, they are not separate, not just because you should view all human life as equally worth preserving but because we are seeing the mass domestic response within the US about Palestine - the popular resistance to it on the one hand and the institutional support for it on the other. The early 2000s US culture (“post-9/11”) is widely regarded as incredibly right-wing, and that was because of the war in Iraq! Foreign policy produces and shapes US culture, and the genocide in Palestine a colonial and fascist project.

This is not an argument for despair, or to do nothing. Fascism is not defeated by voting regardless of who you’re voting for, and so we can dispense with that idea. If you want to exercise your civic responsibilities, there are many other avenues - labour unions, community work, protests, boycott organising, and yes even voting in local elections when there is a strategic advantage to do so - things that are meaningful and do legitimately help people. But I do not see any strategic calculus in voting for democrats. Biden already told everyone this - “nothing will fundamentally change.” There should be no surprise, no expectation that they will do anything except what they’re already doing, which is business as usual

[seungkw1]

untitled (hoshi oneshot)

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader (gender not explicity mentioned)

word count: 1.3k

genre: exes to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: drinking, cursing, implied sex

author's note: hi this is literally the very first fic i've ever written in my life!! it's just a short one but any constructive feedback is appreciated :)

What an annoying fucking day. 

Missing the bus and being late for work, coworkers getting on your nerves, and to top it all off you completely forgot to do that important task that was due today, so you ended up staying late. It was only Tuesday, but you needed a goddamn drink.

It was already dark by the time you stepped out into the freezing cold air, and you huddled up in your coat as you made your way to the mediocre dive bar down the block. Not your top choice, but it was close. You ordered a vodka soda and zoned out as you listened to whatever depressing ass Smiths song was playing - shitty vibe, but you were too tired to care. 

So when the man you had vaguely noticed was staring at you from your peripheral vision got up and headed towards you, you sighed as you turned to immediately shut that shit down. 

“Sorry but I am really not in the mood for a conversation right n-“ your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the all-too-familiar face. 

“I thought that was you,” your ex-fiancé said sheepishly. 

Frozen in shock, it took you a good five seconds for you to utter a response. 

“Soonyoung?”

What the FUCK was he doing here?

As if he read your mind, he explained, “I’m in town this week for a work conference, but I didn’t expect to run into… anybody I knew.” He paused, waiting for your reaction. More silence. After what felt like an eternity you finally snapped out of it.  

“Um… me neither.” 

Jesus Christ, pull yourself together. 

It had been nearly two years since you last saw him. The breakup had felt like a relief then - he was moving across the country and you never planned to see or hear from him again. Especially not in some random fucking bar on a Tuesday. 

Your heart raced as you noted that he looked good. Like, really good. 

“Mind if I join?” he gestures to the vacant seat next to you. 

“Yeah, definitely. I mean- no I don’t mind. Sorry yeah go ahead, sure” you tripped over your words. Why the hell are you so nervous? It’s just your ex. 

Yeah, just the person I very nearly married. Just the person I had once considered my soulmate…

You shove that thought to the back of your mind. 

Soonyoung sits down and awkwardly begins to make small talk - something neither of you are that great at. You chat politely for a few minutes, asking each other the usual generic questions.  There’s clearly so much you want to say to each other, but you both hold back. 

“Soooo… how’s the…” he pauses. Shaking his head, he abandons whatever he was going to say. He turns and makes eye contact with you, giving you a questioning look. You feel your heart rate spiking. You try not to think about how handsome he looks right now. 

“Do you still like playing pool?” He nods his head over to the open pool table in the corner. A smile involuntarily creeps onto your face and you see his eyes light up in response. The tension suddenly melts away. 

“Only if I can still kick your ass.”

—

A few drinks and several rounds of pool later, you and Soonyoung are laughing it up as if you hadn’t spent a single day apart. 

“Tired of losing yet?” you taunt sarcastically. You are both terrible at pool and neither of you even know how to play properly. But neither of you care about the game at this point anyway - you’re lost in old stories and inside jokes. 

And god, he looks REALLY good. 

Soonyoung pulls out his phone and laughs as he checks the time. 

“Uh-ohhh, it’s gotten prettttty late. We better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin!” You roll your eyes but feel a sudden tinge of sadness. You were truly enjoying yourself - more than you had in a long time - and you weren’t ready for the night to end. But it was getting a bit late. 

“Ugh let me check the train, who knows how long until the next one.” You go to put your coat on but he’s already holding it up for you, not realizing his old habit. 

“Fuck the train, I’m driving you home! It’s toooo cold,” he insists. You let out a short laugh - he only had one more drink but he was clearly drunk. 

“No, dummy, you are in no condition to operate a vehicle. I’ll drive for you.” 

—

You park Soonyoung’s car near your apartment building. He’s mostly sobered up by this point, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed about the fact that he had spent a good chunk of the ride crying as he apologized and confessed that he really missed you. But honestly, you realize that you had really missed him too. 

“Welp, here we are… guess I’d better get going,” he says, trying to hide his mopiness at the thought of leaving you. He slowly starts to open the passenger door but you catch his sleeve to hold him back. As you pull him back into his seat you find your hand subtly sliding up around his bicep. Fuck, he was even more muscular than you remembered. 

“Excuse me but I am not letting you behind this wheel until you are fully sobered up, which you clearly are not,” you tell him firmly. “Come on babe, we’re going inside and getting you something to eat.” The affectionate name rolled off your tongue so naturally that you didn’t even notice you’d said it. 

His eyes light up again. He had always been stunning, but in this moment he was insanely hot. Still holding onto his bicep, memories of his toned body flash through your mind as you feel the heat rising inside you. 

Is this really happening? Fuck, I want him so bad. 

And the way he looks back at you, you know he wants you too.

—

“What do you want, leftover pizza? A sandwich? Ramen?” 

“Ooooh RAMEN!” Soonyoung exclaims eagerly as he comes running into the kitchen. “Pretty please,” he adds with a goofy grin. It all felt so natural. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this, missed him. 

“Drink this,” you force a cup of water into his hands. Your hands brush and you instantly get butterflies. 

Jesus what is this, a middle school crush?? 

He locks eyes with you. Huge pang in your stomach. 

Okay, yeah. You need him. Badly. Right now. 

Overwhelmed, you panic and turn back to busy yourself with the ramen, but you find yourself too distracted to even continue that. 

Soonyoung can’t wait any longer. He grabs you by the hips and turns you around, pulling your body into his. He’s already excited, and you feel his excitement grow even more as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you with more intensity than you’ve ever felt before. 

Fireworks. Electricity. All the things. In that moment, nothing in the world mattered but you and Soonyoung.

God damn. 

He breaks the kiss so he can take a look at you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that right?” He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up toward him, going in for another kiss. 

You suddenly become aware of the ramen packet that’s still in your hand. You giggle and he ends up kissing you on the teeth. You both burst out laughing and Soonyoung pulls you even tighter into his arms. You feel both of your hearts pounding in your chests. 

He places his forehead against yours. “Soooo…”

“Soooo what?” You give him a tiny peck on the lips. He gives you a tiny peck back. 

“Soooo aren’t you gonna invite me into your room?”

“What for?” you ask coyly. 

“Mmmm I think I have a few things in mind,” he says in a low voice. 

“Like whaaaat,” you tease. 

You feel the both of you becoming even more excited as he mutters into your ear. 

“Mmm I like the sound of that,” you say softly. Then jokingly, “but what about your ramen?”

“I think I have an appetite for something else now…” 

[end]

—

find me on ao3 as well ♡

[harrywavycurly]

I’d die for some random conversation with Eddie and his person 🥹 I love them and her just making him hug her all the time so he calms down💕💕

Hiii lovey!! I love them as well and ya know Eddie is just the kinda dude that lowkey ALWAYS needs a hug😂 I hope you enjoy these conversations between the two of them💖

-find all things Eddie’s Wish here✨

“Why are we doing this?” “Because you like to be outdoors and walking is good for you.” “I also like good sex and black coffee…why can’t I be doing something that involves that?” “Do you want to have sex?” “What?…uh you…you can’t just…I don-” “I’m just kidding Eddie…I knew making you feel embarrassed would help you forget about the day you’ve had.” “You’re kinda evil you know that right?” “Well you did wish for me on a Friday the thirteenth…in October so…I was bound to be a little mischievous.” “That’s true I guess…how’d you find this place? It’s kinda creepy.” “It’s just the Hawkins cemetery…it was easy to find” “what the fuck? You have me taking a midnight stroll through a cemetery?” “No need to be scared…I’ll protect you…here take my hand.” “Protect me…from what?” “Oh..nothing…” “you’re so full of shit…”

“Do you sleep?” “Yes.” “Do you eat?” “Yes.” “Do you have to?” “Yes…why wouldn’t I need sleep and food? Even gremlins need food and a nap.” “Did..you just compare yourself to evil fur balls who kill people?” “Only evil if fed after midnight…or get wet.” “So you can’t swim or take a shower?” “I’m not a gremlin Eddie so yes I can swim and I prefer baths…they are more relaxing.” “What am I thinking right now?” “I’d rather not say it out loud…but just know the answer is yes.”

“Just get in the car please Eddie.” “Why can’t I drive?” “Because you need to relax now just get in the car so we can go.” “Do you even know how to drive?” “Edward I am way older than you so yes I know how to drive…do you need a hug real quick? Will that help calm your nerves a bit?” “How old are you?” “That’s not polite to just ask someone how old they are…now do you need a hug or not?” “You and your hugs…” “come here….I don’t know why you act all tough when I literally know how you’re feeling at all times.” “Like all my feelings or…just when I’m unhappy?” “All of them….now I packed you a book and a snack so you’ll be comfortable.” “A book? What kinda bo-” “The Hobbit since I know it’s one of your favorites.” “Oh…thanks…uhm just a few more seconds…please?” “We can hug for as long as you like Eddie…I’m not going anywhere.” “Thanks.”

“Eddie? Eddie…wake up…you’re having a bad dream.” “Hmmm? What?” “You’re having a bad dream.” “Why are you in a nightgown?…and…fuzzy bunny slippers? Am…is this a dream?” “No this isn’t a dream…this is just what I was wearing when you decided to have a nightmare…” “a nightmare? I don’t…remember having a nightmare.” “I know…I fixed it for you so you wouldn’t have to remember it…now go back to sleep you should be fine now.” “Will you-” “yes but only if you scoot over and don’t hog the covers.” “Okay yeah…can I be the-” “As if you’d ever be anything other than the little spoon…come here…there you go.” “Goodnight.” “Goodnight Eddie..sweet dreams.”

[pr1soners-d1lemma]

More on Sigma since yall ate up the last post tysm guys (*´꒳`*)

Anyways as I was saying Sigma has done some shit that proves he’s not a UwU baby and here I’ll explain to you more. 

Sigma, unlike the rest of the DOA doesn’t want to just jump to violence, that’s not his thing since he knows his ability really isn’t meant for combat. Though he will still do it as seen multiple times. It also never once says he regret hurting/killing multiple innocent civilians. “Oh but Dazai said he didn’t see Sigma as a terrorist at all 🥺🥺 therefore-“ nope. Shut up 😍. Compared to Gogol and Fyodor, Sigma is not a terrorist. He hasn’t done nearly as much as they have, but he still is. Now I’d like to bring attention to the fact that the casino is actually Sigma’s REWARD for the use of his skill. Therefore, due to his part being over in the plan as Dazai said, he had no reason to fight on the frontlines. Yet he still did it to protect the casino, which was being used for terrorism and stuff. Hmmmm…. If he was an UwU innocent baby why would he do this? It’s because he’s not please shut up I’m actually losing in from people acting like that. Just note this past section is only from the first few pages of the 18th novel. We’re no where near close to being done!! Remember when The hunting dogs asked him to shut down that casino? Here is his reaction to that:

I personally don’t think this is how any UwU baby would act… idk just my thoughts. He literally yelled at them, didn’t even try to politely explain why he wouldn’t do that he just told them to fuck off. Now we have Tachihara and Teruko walking along just doing their job (stop hating Teruko for doing her job it makes me so mad) and just getting stabbed by a random civilian. Here we see Sigma, literally making stuff up as he’s using people as literal weapons whilst knowing damn well you’re not supposed to do that. He literally uses the fact that as police Teruko and Tachihara can’t hurt them as a way of ENCOURAGING people to harm literal government figures. He had no hesitation to do that to people, unlike when he hesitated to use the plane on the casino, showing that at this point he is valuing a CASINO over HUMAN LIVES (B-but the casino is his home 🥺, ok and? Would you manipulate innocent people into literal weapons to protect your house? I don’t think so) It’s important to note that this is the only thing Sigma really owns, so he is defending it in a state of panic. It still gives him no right to do such things though. No I’m not trying to make Sigma sound like a bad person he’s my favorite bad character and it physically hurts to see all the mischaracterization I cry myself to sleep bc ppl r like this. As Fyodor said: “You won’t find a scarier thing in the world than a common man who is desperate” and we know that bc sigma said “If it’s for the casino I’ll do anything” here’s a little reminder:

Now yeah he was having a little breakdown about it, like who wouldn’t. Can someone not show emotion without being called UwU soft? Seriously? If you were in that situation I bet you’d want to spring outta that room crying too. And yet here we are, he’s still using on and you know how? He’s shooting at Teruko with big ass guns. I don’t think owning those is legal in the slightest. 

(Pardon the fact its in Russian I got this off of Pinterest) 

This is not legal. Firing these is not legal. And here is the most important part. The sonic gun and this is gonna be in bold bc it’s one of my leading points He showed no hesitation to kill Teruko in one of the most painful ways for a hunting dog to be killed. He forced her to puncture her eardrums as a last result of survival, as he says “This is all apart of the plan” showing that he planed ahead of time to try and kill a hunting dog. This is not something someone who is innocent would do in the slightest. He is well prepared to kill someone without regret. He decided to save a casino instead of his self, and attempted to take Teruko down with him. 

And then we get to the part when he gets saved by Atsushi. He says he didn’t mean to stab the chief. Ok fine he didn’t mean to do that, but he still did it even if he regretted it. Can people not show regret for their actions? Goddamn ok. Also the way he spoke to Gogol- that’s not innocent at all he was downright hating on him. “I hate dealing with this decay member the most” bro even was like: Why didn’t you die man. In no way in his speech does he act soft at all I can’t see how you people got that. Maybe it was from his confused reaction? Or something. And just know this it only the 18th novel I’ve covered so far. I’ll do more in a later part :3 but anyways thanks for reading this I hope both sides of ur pillow are cold and I hope this helped you understand sigma better!! 

[tumblhurgoyf]

Feeling super negative for a multitude of reasons, some not Magic related at all, but the recent talk on Blogatog about “microset” products just feels so out of touch. I don’t want to bring that negativity on one of Mark’s posts as I’m not sure I could be polite about it and I’ve mostly just dismissed the product as not for me already anyway. But I do want to vent.

First it’s like $1 a card for random cards? That’s nuts. Boosters are already overpriced with all the commons included. They worked some really good PR speak by explaining away cutting the commons to give you more rares and uncommons, but the reality is you’re just paying more for less. It’s not like those rare slots are actually going to ever reach an EV that makes it a good gamble.

Second let’s talk about product fatigue. Like not only is this an additional release (or four) a year, but you’re doing normal and collector’s boosters for this as well? Holy fuck.

The fact that Mark’s openly work shopping what variation of this product players might actually shell out money for tells me it’s not received well. I haven’t seen a positive video about it at all.

It’s a shame though that they can’t give their golden goose a bit of breathing room though. I shared that post the other day about... let me find it for the term... trust thermocline. The basic idea is that people who like your product will stick with you through some missteps and bad ideas. And you won’t even notice how bad all of them are because sales keep increasing and people keep paying higher prices and buying new stuff and all that.

But at some point you hit that trust thermocline. Something pushes a lot of people over the edge. You walk it back but it’s too late. Because the thing is that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. They didn’t leave because of one bad story, or because $5 a pack was too much but $4.50 wasn’t, or because two dozen products a year was ok but thirty went to far.

They left because of all of it. The last thing is just what made them finally say “enough.” And once they say enough and leave, you don’t get them back. It’s hard to see because things keep chugging along and all your numbers and metrics look fine. But I feel like Wizards has to be approaching this. I wonder about why they stopped including space at the end of surveys for additional comments. Too much negativity they don’t want to put any effort into handling?

On a different front, I’m also not enjoying the lore changes they’ve dropped with this same product. I am willing to admit that I’m somehow still too close to the story to really take a step back and appreciate this; that could change with time. But my reaction right now is that desparking a lot of planeswalkers while opening rifts so anyone and anything can now travel the multiverse is just stupid. You’ve just eviscerated the story conceit that made planeswalkers special.

idk, I wasn’t thrilled with how they handled the team up cards anyway, and to me this feels like the next step of that. We got to see unlikely allies on cards, now what if we got stories where Thalia was on Ravnica fighting the Obzedat? It feels (I keep intentionally using the word feels to describe this--it’s my emotional reaction detached from the idea that they’re going to be able to tell cool stories they couldn’t otherwise tell), anyway, it feels like they just tossed out a core story concept and don’t even realize it.

Like as much shit they get for the world of hats approach, I think that really works for what they do and is part of what I enjoy. I’m honestly in part concerned that the recent big events that effect the entire multiverse and set up this situation where planes can blend a lot more freely could impact the distinct feel of different worlds. And while I’m sure that’s something that’s on creative’s radar, they’ve also burned enough trust in recent years that I’m doubtful they will handle it well.

Though at the same time this feels kind of par for the course. There have been so many let downs in Magic story over the years that the amazing part is that I’m still invested at all. But the story’s a slave to corporate needs and is undoubtedly more story-by-committee than ever. A left-right punch to KO any creative work for sure.

But I shouldn’t be surprised. They are not and have never really tried to say they’re anything else. They make blockbuster sets and want blockbuster stories to go along with it. Anyone who wants a fantasy card game with DC/Marvel story sensibilities to produce artistic short fiction is a damned fool.

Anyway this is just me venting. Could all be wrong. Time will tell. If you want to vent here feel free.