#like yeesh as if i don't have enough to do

[stupidvillainousposts]

Shit's Been Angsty, so Take This

I'm gonna let y'all guess first thing if this is a merciful post

Stan, walking through the aisles of the grocery store: *Minding His Own Business*

Robbie: *Tosses a Tomato at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Turns to Glare at Robbie* Why you little-

Wendy: Whoa! Whoa! Hey, it's okay! I am so sorry for Robbie. He can be... him.

Stan: *Growls Softly*

Wendy: Whoa there, no need to get all growl-y, dude. I won't hurt ya. Pretty sure that muzzle and shock collar does enough on that end.

Stan: *Huffs and Blushes* Are you done talking? I have to get back to my family before the town gets the idea to throw pitchforks at me.

Wendy: Yeah, yeah sure. Again, sorry about Robbie.

Stan: Whatever. *Walks Off*

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

Stan: *Walking to the Pier After an Argument with Fidds*

Tyler: Oh no! Get away! Get away! *Runs Off in Terror*

Other Townspeople: *Overlapping Shouts of Fear and Disgust*

Random Person: *Throws a Stick at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Barks/Whimpers as His Collar Shocks Him*

Wendy, from a few feet away: Yeesh, that looked like it hurt.

Stan, rubbing his neck: You? What are you doing here?

Wendy: My dad brought me and my brothers here so we could practice fishing with our hands. I've caught the most so far so I got to take a break. What about you?

Stan: Why do you care?

Wendy: *Shrugs* I guess angry wolf men are pretty interesting compared to just standing and staring at myself in the water.

Stan: *Flicks His Ear Curiously* Yeah, well, it's grown-up stuff. Kid like you wouldn't get it.

Wendy: Lemme guess; Ya got in a fight with your boyfriend?

Stan: How did you-

Wendy: I know relationship issues when I see them.

Stan, defensively: We don't have issues! We just... didn't agree on something important. And I... I lost my temper.

Wendy: You still love him, though, right?

Stan, genuinely perplexed: Wha- Of course I do!

Wendy: Then for the sake of those kids I see hanging around your shack, I suggest you go let him know that.

Stan, after a brief pause: You're unnaturally mature for your age.

Wendy: I get that a lot. *Playfully* Now go before I call the pound.

Stan: *Snorts* Alright, alright.

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

Stan: *Relaxing with Fidds in Their Room*

Dipper: Grunkle Stan? There's a teenager at the door saying she knows you.

Stan: *Sits Up in Surprise* Red Head?

Fidds: *Amused* Ya nicknamed a random teen?

Stan: *Flicks Fidds' Cheek with a Smile* She's charming. Besides, I don't know her name.

Fidds: Then I suggest ya ask, it's the polite thing t' do.

Stan: *Playfully* Yes, dear. *Makes His Way Downstairs*

Dipper: *Follows Curiously*

Stan, upon seeing Wendy: Hey kid. Why're ya at this dingy place? Surely ya have better places to be than here.

Dipper, tugging Stan's shirt: *Quietly* Ask her what her name is! Grunkle Fidds told you to!

Stan: *Rolls His Eyes and Sighs* And, if this doesn't come off as too weird, think you could tell me your name? I don't think constantly calling you "kid" is appropriate.

Wendy: Name's Wendy. And I just thought I'd visit to make sure you guys were okay. I haven't seen you in town in a while.

Dipper: Grunkle Stan buys a lot of groceries at once so he doesn't have to go out much.

Stan, gritting his teeth: Dipper, why don't you go see what your sister's up to?

Dipper: But-

Stan: We can talk about it later, okay?

Dipper: Fine. *Stomps Away*

Wendy: Cute kid. He yours?

Stan: Brother's grandchild. We have them while some... stuff is being sorted out by their parents.

Wendy: Ah, poor things.

Stan: Yeah... So are you gonna just stand there or...?

Wendy: Are you gonna invite me in, or...?

Stan, holding back a smile: Alright, watch it smart mouth.

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

Fidds, during dinner one night: So, I take it we have another youngin'?

Stan: *Nearly Chokes on His Water* Wha- HUH?!

Fidds: Wendy, sweetie. Ya really seem t' like her. And she seems real nice.

Stan: Yeah, well, she also has a family. Unlike Soos.

Mabel: Soos has his grandma, though?

Stan: *To Mabel* Eat your veggies. *To Fidds* And no, we are not adopting another random child.

Believe it or not, they did end up symbolically adopting another random child.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[ram-bles]

Headcanons with Daisuke and Shy Reader? Thanks if you do :)

daisuke x shy!reader headcanons

[ requests/inbox: open ]

oh boy changing the mood with this one

fluff, gender neutral reader

⚠️ dude/bro used but in a gender neutral way lol

Sorry this took so long! I had to rewrite more than half of this since I forgot to save as draft the last time 😭

🌺 The first you've seen him was while processing your papers for the internship. He was busy double checking his own papers on his way out so he didn't notice you. The first time he sees you, was during the Tulpar boarding.

🌺 To no surprise, he approaches and greets you first, rambling on about how totally excited he was to work with you and the whole crew. You shook his hand with an awkward smile as you exchanged introductions.

Once the captain had given you both an overview of what you guys might do while on board, he immediately turns to you, jutting his hand out for a handshake. "Heya! I'm Daisuke!" You swore you were blinded by how bright this man smiled at you. "Dude, I'm like so so glad you're here. Everyone else here besides Cap' seems so— yeesh. Gloomy." You realized you've almost left him hanging and you almost dropped your bag trying to shake his hand. He laughs and you felt your face warm up in embarrassment. He switches topic immediately. "What's your name? What uni you from? - oh! What college are you in?"

🌺 You wouldn't notice it until later on that you'd often trail behind Daisuke, especially when you don't know what you're doing or how to help (he doesn't know how as well but he pretends he does).

🌺 Assuming that the rooms are very limited and can house two members per room (bunk bed icon by Curly's quarters door), you two got paired up since Swansea didn't want to be in the same room as Daisuke did.

🌺 A coin had to be flipped for the top bunk since Daisuke kept on insisting that you take it but you were also insisting that he takes it.

🌺 Even before the crash, he's either on his gameboy, magazines, or his iconic pink dumbbells when you guys have the free time.

🌺 Once comfortable enough, you two were inseparable. Always together by the hip outside intern work. The top bunk was useless since you'd both end up chilling at the same place, either sprawled against each other or claiming territories at each end of the bed doing whatever hobbies you two were into.

"Bro, you're kicking my faaaace. I can't see what I'm reading." You whined and tried pushing his leg away since you were scanning through one of the magazines he brought and he gives you a mischievous stare. "Daisuke, no." "Daisuke, yes." He pauses his game and throws it to the side, yanking your leg as you squealed and flailed around. You lose. But you both end up laughing as he locked you to his side, giving you a noogie, not long until Swansea busts in to scold you two for being too rowdy.

[might make a one-shot of this if you guys are interested?]

🌺 Hey, even if you guys are that close already and you don't chat as much, he'll be the one doing it for the both of you. I don't make the rules.

🌺 If you have inquiries with the other members, he accompanies you and asks the questions for you.

🌺 Daisuke pretty much drags you with him for whatever shenanigans he's up to. Don't worry, he takes the blame if you guys get caught and makes sure they think you're uninvolved.

[brain-deadx0]

(Got a brain worm that I had to write. No plans to continue so feel free to take for yourself)

Batman was responding to reports of Harley Quinn running around Gotham. Joker had been put back in Arkham several months ago so there was a chance she was making a move to set him free again.

But apparently Harley was expecting him.

"Well finally! You sure know how to keep a gal waiting Batsy. Ive been running around all night waitin for ya."

When Harley turned to face him his eyes were immediately drawn to her stomach.

"You're pregnant..."

"Yeesh your manners are bad ya cant just say that!" Harley rolled her eyes before pausing with a sigh and a serious look that almost seemed out of place on her, "But yeah... I am."

"Joker?" Batman asked softly.

Harley nodded, "Thats why I was runnin around tonight. Wanted to get your attention." She looked down before continuing, "I was in denial about it at first. I was always careful with that birth control stuff ya know? And I didn't want it to be real. Before I knew it it was too late to... you know... but. But I dont think I coulda anyway. I know its selfish but I love em too much already. Thats why I need your help."

"I'll help in anyway I can." Batman told her, "I can set up a place for the two of you where Joker won't find you."

Harley shook her head, "No can do Batsy. Mista J wouldn't let me go that easy. Specially if he knows about my little puddin. And if I'm honest I love him too much to leave too.

"I need someplace to have 'im that won't tell. And... I want you to look out for him. Not like, take 'im in or nothing. If I see my baby runnin around as one of your birds in ten years I'll let you have it-" She sighed, "But find someplace away from Gotham and all this. I don't want this for my little puddin. I don't want him to turn out like me or Joker and his best chance is someplace else.

"Please Batman."

-

Bruce kept his promise to Harley. She gave birth in secret and Daniel was taken to the other side of the country to be left at a firestation with nothing but his name and a note from Harley saying she loved him.

When Daniel was adopted Bruce ran a background check on his new parents. Inventors who seemed to be researching some sort of renewable energy and already had a child. Seemed safe enough.

He checked the area when they moved to a small town in Illinois and it seemed safe enough even with the likely tourist trap of "most haunted town in America"

Daniel, or Danny as he seemed to prefer, got decent grades and had a few close friends. His grades dropped suddenly for a time but eventually they returned to their previous state so he didn't worry too much.

But when the boy applied to and was accepted into Gotham U, Bruce started to worry.

They had left Danny as far away from Gotham as possible. So what were the chances he should return?

[hanasnx]

" A SIMPLE LOVE WITH A COMPLEX TOUCH " — symbiote!peter parker x reader.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: first picture source; second picture source is pinterest; third picture source is pinterest, edited by me; draft from november. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ sable!reader ノ established relationship ノ gun mention ノ cocky ooc spider-man bcos hes wearing the symbiote and its affecting his behavior ノ mild toxicity.

"— and I want guys on every level of that building, do you understand?" you command, prodding the schematics with your finger to direct your subordinate's attention. Obediently, he nods, gathering up the plans to disperse them accordingly as you straighten from your hunch. As papers crackle and crease from his ministrations, you continue, "We can't afford another mistake."

Commotion alerts you, and you seek it out as your hand securely rests on one of your pistols. "I'm here! I'm here. I was late but I'm here now." That voice. Your lips press into a thin line as you release your weapon, approaching your officers who surround the newcomer.

SYMBIOTE!SPIDER-MAN glances around uneasily. "Guess I don't get Employee-of-the-Month this time 'round, huh?" His un-welcoming party closes in and he raises his hands in surrender. "Yeesh. You guys take punctuality very seriously."

"Spider-Man." At the sound of your voice, your employees part, and his gaze lands on you. It's subtle, but his visor narrows. "This is a restricted area. My associates will escort you out." The order is heeded, and they reach for him. Uncooperative as ever, the hero takes a step back.

He tilts his head, giving his surroundings a scan as if to search for his response. "Are you serious?"

Your brows raise indignantly. You are not fond of being questioned. "Spider-Man—"

"—So formal."

"Because of your inexcusable misconduct and your inability to follow my orders, you were fired. You no longer work as my consultant, and you cannot access this facility. Exit now, or we will use force." It's not that it hurts you to treat him so coldly, you're still angry at him. Right now you treat him as you would treat any trespasser.

There's a shift in his behavior. The way he pivots his head to eye you from the side, familiar body language betraying your unprofessional relationship. It exploits your feelings for him. The old Spider-Man would've respected your boundary. You don't know who stands before you now. "C'mon," A scoff emits from him. "Don't do this." You don't appreciate being bargained with, and you turn your back on him.

It's your subordinates' signal to move in, but they don't get close enough. He vaults over, landing in front of you to cut off your path. There's a fierceness in your eyes at his utter lack of respect, boring into him as he towers over you. His abrupt presence had caught you off-guard, having expected him to accept it's time to leave, and your hand reflexively tucks under your trench coat to fix on your pistol. There's a new level of danger to Peter Parker, he's unpredictable, and you don't trust him. Part of you knows it's the right move to have your weapon handy when facing him, and it's the part that wins.

"What are you gonna do?" he questions, regarding the position of your hand. "Make me?" In the uncharacteristic tone of his voice, you can make out his hurt hidden behind his challenge.

As he advances, you take a cautious step back. The din of guns cocking and aiming onto the new threat sounds behind you, but you and Peter are locked onto each other. You know you can't make him do anything, not with the strength he possesses... he knows that, too.

It's not like him to make a show of his power, how he bullies other into submission. He's always the bigger man—always. Now that size is used against you, looking up at him, and praying he doesn't try something. He inclines into your direction, testing you as he waits for you to put him in his place; his shoulders slack arrogantly, hanging his loose arms as you arch away from his face in yours. His slow descent into your space is a tactic.

"Walk- away." you warn.

A second passes—a second that feels like forever. He straightens, receding from you. "I'll walk." he concedes, and you hold your sigh of relief. "If you're the one that escorts me."

You consider it, pulling your lips to one side as you blow hot air through your flared nostrils. Reluctantly, you disarm, and snatch his bicep. You yank him over, towing him to the exit.

Once out of earshot, Peter seizes the opportunity to ask you the stupidest question he possibly could. "Are you mad at me?" He's used to your professional attitude, how standoffish you can be, all things that he's faced when you two had met.

You can't even speak. Thoughts run at a million miles an hour through your head, reconsidering every aspect of this interaction. Your jaw clenches. The entrance to the fence is close, and you can't wait to be rid of him so you can get back to work.

"Baby, talk to me." he lowers his voice, a surprising croon to it as if he seeks to appeal to your emotional side. You wouldn't put manipulation past him right now, considering his erratic disposition as of late. "I haven't seen you since—"

"Since you screwed up my investigation?" An anger flares in your chest at the petname, you don't feel anything like his baby right now.

At the accusation, his tone hardens. "I was hoping to talk."

"I don't want to talk." Your sharp pronunciation is a dead giveaway to your adverse opinion of him currently. "There's a reason you were fired then, and your re-introduction today does not look good for your future employment. You'll understand if we're less friendly the next time you trespass on a restricted area." With the warning, you toss him forward, and he stumbles through the gate.

He rounds. As expressionless as a suit can be, you've learned his body language like the back of your hand. He's frustrated. The way his shoulders square, and his fists form at his sides, you can tell he's getting fed up.

"That's how it's gonna be?"

"That's how it's gonna be." you confirm.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.3

Okay can anyone explain the “false hotel registration” thing to me? Does it mean they registered under a false name? So Paul registered under a false name so he could go fuck a girl in his room without getting in trouble with the press? I'm confused. Didn't they bring girls to their rooms all the time without getting in trouble? It doesn't make sense. Why did he feel the need to register under a different name?

Paul, talking about American conservatism, “So many organizations over here that are nuts anyway.” John, “Yeah, they're so far right they just–” tape ends. They really were brave, though. To say what they thought and risk losing what they'd only just got. I wonder who cut the recording. 

Journalist: Paul, are you planning to marry Jane Asher? John: scream ‘no.’ Go on. Lol John certainly says what he feels doesn't he?

Paul making fun of the racist question. Good job bud. 

The whole “Yesterday” thing is crazy. Like, what a feat, first of all. I think we forget how unbelievably successful the song was.

Second of all, I know John's reaction was childish and mean, but his feelings were valid if you just look at the treatment and reception of “Ticket to Ride”  (John's dead mum song). Like objectively yesterday is a better song, but still.

Oh, John. Poor thing. 

If “Girl” is secretly about Paul . . . yeesh. It's so obsessive and adoring and simultaneously so disappointed and disparaging. John always has such impossible standards for Paul. “She promises the earth to me and I believe her, after all this time I don't know why.” Um… maybe because he literally did give you the world? At so many points I find myself asking, “what more could Paul possibly have given John?”

People always take this quote as a sexuality thing, but couldn't it also be a conscience thing? Revulsion at taking advantage of the fact that all these women are fans? At the scale of his infidelity? I don't know, am I giving him too much credit?

The thing about Paul, John – and though it drives you insane, it's a big factor in why you love him -- is he's not going to be bullied into anything. If he decides to take LSD it's going to be on his own terms. And I know you think it'll bring you two closer, and you're right, but peer pressure just doesn't work on him. There's no point. You know that.

I LOVE Paul and the Indica. Designing the wrapping paper in secret up in his little attic room, covering over the shop windows so he can do his handyman work building shelves and painting in peace. It's Linda's Paul pre Linda, you know?

John is so good at PR as in making something sound as beautiful and important and powerful as possible. Which is something Paul absolutely relied on John to do and clearly could not do on his own after the break up. Look how John makes them almost into prophets here.

"I really wanted to live in London but I wouldn't risk it." Another thing to make John envious of Paul and resentful of Cynthia. I really wish those two had just never got married. 

“I don't object to people having a lot of money, I never did. But I do object to people being stony broke and starving.” RIP John, you would've loved the American “left” of today. But you can't have the former without the latter, sorry.

This picture always gets me. It's ridiculous. Pattie and George. Mo and Ringo. John and Paul. With Cynthia awkwardly by herself. It's funny. It's adorable. It's crushing. And with that quote? It's impossible.

I think Tara Browne is overlooked. Paul brought him home for Christmas. That's a big deal. And John hated him enough to laugh when he read about his death. That's also a big deal. Paul and his messed up social climbing obsession. I do think it's worth pointing out, though, the difference between Paul’s LSD trip with Tara and his trip with John. More on that later.

I really do think they were all staunchly anti-racist for their time, you know, besides John's racist jokes and drawings… but Paul particularly. And I have to wonder where that came from. Did he have empathy for people being judged on appearance and background? Was it partially due to his idolization of black artists? Did Little Richard maybe say something to him about racism in America? Anyone have any thoughts?

Actually, same, John. 

Okay and I have to share my hot take on the whole Jesus scandal. It's this: the American right doesn't actually care about Jesus. They care about protecting their hegemony. They didn't like that the Beatles were openly and stubbornly integrationist. They didn't like Paul's comment about their inhumane racism. But they couldn't openly counter that without showing their hand. So they used the Jesus comment as an excuse. If they play the religious persecution card, they get to paint themselves as the victims and therefore the good guys while they take down anyone who challenges the status quo that keeps them in money and power (aka the Beatles). 

Maybe I should've had a “poor baby” tally because the number of times I've said that about John in these comments has got to be tally-worthy. I would've driven around in a gorilla suit with you, honey!

It is actually amazing that there hasn't been more speculation on Paul's sexuality with all these serious boyfriends. 

Paul tells a story about a time he flew a plane, and how much better he liked it than being a passenger. First off. Imagine being a pilot and just being like “oh, you've never touched a joystick in your life, but you're Paul McCartney? Sure, go ahead. Fly the plane.” But also. His control issues and his confidence are both off unreal. No one in their right mind would feel more safe flying a plane – as someone with a complete lack of experience – than when a licensed pilot is flying it. 

Okay I literally JUST learned that Here There and Everywhere says, “how good it can be” not could. Can. And it's one of those in my "for sure this was about John" folder. Okay then. Wow.

The thing is they really did compliment each other's songs a lot more than modern Paul makes it seem like. So I wonder what it was about the “Here There and Everywhere” compliment that made it so special to Paul?

This footage where John is hiding behind McCharmley. I love protective Paul and how different he is to protective John and how much they needed each other. 

Hall of Fame quote: “what composer do you respect the most?” “I dunno really. John Lennon.” “Paul McCartney.”

[another-lost-mc]

Hii, first of all, i love your writing 💕 and I hope you're doing well.

How do you think the bros would react watching the movie Se7en?

I think it would be interesting to see their reactions since the theme surrounds the seven deadly sins.

a/n: I love this movie! I re-watched while I worked on this since it's been a while. I wrote the blurbs in order of the sins as they're portrayed in the film.

➤ watching the movie se7en | the demon brothers

1k words | x gn!reader | nsfw | violence and dark/disturbing themes, demons thinking about demon things, movie spoilers

BEELZEBUB | the gluttony scene

Any other time, he'd be joking that if he had to die, he wants to die eating. He understands that now's probably not the best time to tell you that.

He feels a bit sad for some reason. He's not sure if it's the poor bloke's death on screen or the movie's gritty atmosphere in general.

Ravenous hunger has its downsides, but most of the time he enjoys eating food. He can understand why being forced to eat would be emotional and literal torture for someone.

He knows he could eat that much pasta without breaking a sweat, but he doubts it would be comforting to you so he doesn't say it out loud.

He wonders how much he'd have to eat for his body to break down in protest of finally being too full, but he keeps that to himself too.

MAMMON | the greed scene

It's not a horror movie but the dark vibe still gives him the creeps.

He hasn't had to look away (yet) but he tucks you closer to his side so you can cuddle. You can hide your face in his chest for the gross parts if they bother you, he won’t tease you.

He sorta gets an inkling about the greed motif— something about a scummy lawyer and money trading hands is his first guess about why this guy was targeted.

Eh, close enough.

There are a lotta ways to kill someone with greed without actually killing them, y’know.

(He doesn’t wanna talk about ‘em though. He doesn’t want you to think badly of him.)

BELPHEGOR | the sloth scene

What the actual fuck.

He was feeling a bit sleepy watching the movie up to this point, but he's not anymore.

He understands the interpretation of his sin, but he's surprised to see such an ugly version of it in a human world movie like this.

If he senses that you're uncomfortable, he tries to distract you until the scene ends.

Now seems like a great time to pause the movie so you can both get up and get a drink, or stretch—or maybe go for a nap if you're tired and don't want to finish it right now.

(He's going to make sure you don't have bad dreams after this.)

ASMODEUS | the lust scene

He's had custom sex toys made before, but something like this? Yeesh.

Literally fucking someone to death seems so brutal, so unromantic. This isn't how he would do it, but he doesn't tell you that; he doesn't want to scare you.

(If he had to kill someone using his sin, he'd fuck them before ripping them open from stomach to sternum.)

(If he had to kill you with his sin, he’d make love to you until you eventually fall asleep. Your death will be instant and painless before he cuts out your heart and eats it.)

He notices that this part of the movie made you squirm in your seat more than the others so far.

Maybe a warm bath and cuddling in his bed will help you relax once the movie's over. He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to hold you.

LUCIFER | the pride scene

It feels anti-climactic compared to some of the other portrayals of sin so far, but he appreciates the simplicity. He was afraid it would be needlessly gruesome like the others.

Pride is insidious, the mother of all sins, the first deadly bloom that causes all others to fester and rot on the vine.

He can’t help the way his mind wanders after this. As an angel, he tried to resist sin. As a demon, he embraces it. Humans are weak and he knows for many, pride is their downfall.

You might not believe you could be pushed to make such a fatal choice, but Lucifer senses the way your own blend of pride lingers within you too.

He keeps silent about those thoughts and he wraps his arm around you for the rest of the film.

LEVIATHAN | the envy scene

He’s unusually quiet. He doesn’t complain or whine about how boring it is, and he doesn’t reach for his handheld either. Sometimes he looks puzzled by what’s on screen, and other times he seems contemplative.

He’s a little surprised by the ending. Speechless almost. He understands envy, but to do all this?

And the part with the wife, well...he thinks it's just a bit of an overreaction, don't you?

He can’t help but glance at you once the movie's over. He thinks about life before you and life with you now; he can't imagine life without you in it anymore.

Would he be capable of that type of jealousy if you didn't choose him? If he had to watch someone else live their own happily ever after with you while he suffered alone?

Huh.

When the movie ends, he distracts you with an impromptu game night in his room and he cuddles with you in his tub after.

His tail curls around your leg as you drift off to sleep, and he realizes he'd do so much worse just to keep you by his side.

SATAN | the wrath scene

For the most part, he's been less interested in the portrayal of sins. He's totally wrapped up in the mystery aspect of the movie instead.

Throughout the entire film, he's muttered under his breath about certain things he noticed or his guess about what might happen next.

(He’s read all the books mentioned in the library scene too.)

He figured that the cop with the short fuse was going to be involved somehow with wrath. He actually thought the character was a bit annoying.

He does sympathize with the cop's behaviour at the end—all he has to do is think of someone hurting you and it makes him seethe with rage.

The reveal about the wife caught him completely off-guard but thinking about it later, it seems so obvious.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Reclaim (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request Dean's bf taking him out to just spend a day or two doing whatever childhood things he never got to do, no matter how much he huffs about it not being a big deal.  Just fluff and carthartic stuff, that kind of thing

A grumpy bearded man glares at you from a swingset that is far too small for him, his bowed legs bent pretty far.

"Are you happy now?"

You chuckle. "You didn't even swing."

"It's too small."

"Then go use the big boy set. Not my fault you wanted to go for the kiddie swings."

He huffs and stands indignantly.

you laugh harder. "This was kinda supposed to be fun, Dean."

"But, like... this is all kid's stuff."

"You're never too old for some of this stuff!" you cry, and pull him along to the swings. "Don't you have any fun stuff you used to do as a kid?"

"Uh... target practice with Dad?"

"Wow. Yeesh."

"What?"

"So, like... you never really got to have a childhood."

"Dude. You can't just say crap like that to someone's face. Besides, it's not a big deal. I can-"

"I know what we're doing today!"

"Oh boy."

You challenge Dean to see who can get higher on the swings before you chicken out - mainly to stop your competitive boyfriend from trying to go all the way over.

And then when you hear the tinny calliope noises of an ice cream truck you go running, calling out for Dean to come with you, and you both chase down the truck.

It's silly and stupid, but then the ice cream salesman tells you about the fair in town, and you give Dean an excited stare.

"......"

"...."

"...fine."

Dean usually doesn't get to stay in any town long enough for any local events, so a county fair is still relatively new to him.

The overwhelming amount of sight and sound is enough to burst his bubble of attempted adult disapproval, and you catch a glimpse of the goofy kid he probably would have been.

He grins, and eventually takes the lead in pulling you to the different attractions.

You gorge yourself on fried county fair food - Dean is in fried heaven, defying all the angels to come up with a food better than the fried oreo, but even his insatiable appetite can't conquer a huge funnel cake with a dollop of ice cream that won't even melt all the way on the hot day because it's so big - not without your assistance.

You make him do the petting zoo, and he tries to impress you at the dunk tank, pitching a fastball that sends some cute local guy splashing.

He wins you prizes, accepts those you win for him, and admits that it's probably just about as fun as that time his dad took him into a bar for the first time and showed him how to hustle pool.

For now, you'll take it.

He even lets you drive home, since he's tuckered himself out so much. You let him lean against you, and you grin to yourself when you hear him quietly ask-

"Can we go again tomorrow?"

[stolasdearest]

if you do sequels, can you do one for Vox and the male!reader with anger issues?

i love that dynamic so much, and tbh, i think if you left that reader in a room alone with Valentino, they'd be at each other's throats in SECONDS. and when Vox comes in to break it up, they're totally asking him to pick sides.

poor Voxxy, having to deal with us AND Val lmao

VOX x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

I SO DO SEQUELS?? HELLO I LOVE THISSS

not proofread! Hypnosis (not on the reader) arguing, Valentino in itself is a red flag

! Val and Vox are not dating in this universe

Reader is male!

You had been chilling in the top of the Tower, on your phone just browsing on Sinstagram; legs kicked up on the table while your hand fiddled with a tassel on one of the pillows. A vein bulged in your temple as you already heard Valentinos whiny fucking voice, You didn't wanna deal with this today or him, Before getting another thought out the door burst open; Val stomping in and your boyfriend in toe, scowling on his phone

"can you BELIEVE the audacity of that Bitch! She can be so glad I didn't shoot her rancid face in!"

"uh-huh..Yeesh"

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!"

"Val, I gotta go do something. Baby?"

Your head snapped up upon hearing Voxs petname, Removing your feet from the table you sat up

"yeah?"

"can you watch Val for like, 10 minutes?

"I don't need to be watche—"

"leave him with me"

Vox smiled as he nodded, blowing a kiss to you, an electric heart floating over to you as he left, hands behind his back; the door shut and Valentinos tantrum immediately continued, This time directed at you

"what do you think you're doing?! I'm not some kid— don't even act like you're better than me!"

You rolled your eyes and stood up, knowing continuing to sit would just rile him up, thinking he's above you

"vox asked a favor of me, So I'm doing it."

Valentinos eyes sharpened as he stomped over to you, towering over you. His teeth gritting seeing no fear or intimidation in your eyes

"Youre not big shit! You're just Vox's boy toy!"

"oh yeah? Say that in front of him next time, piss baby!"

This continued for minutes, Each of you getting increasingly more wound up; hands at each other's throats with curse words and insults being swung around almost every sentence, until the door slammed open with a clearly irritated Vox

"I can hear you both from the end of the corridor! What the fuck"

Vox was used to you both fighting but it usually was a one time insult to each other before one of you walked off; now you two were one wrong glance away from jumping each other

"Vox! Let your little bitch to get off his high horse!"

"Vox tell your business partner to stop thinking his shit doesn't stink"

"oh you dumb bitc—"

"enough! Fucking Christ."

Valentinos attitude and mood instantly changed, the Overlord plopping himself down on the couch as he whined about it not being fair

"You must be insane if you think I'm going to back you up, Valentino"

You turned to him and a feeling of pride swelled in your chest, knowing your boyfriend had your back and defended you; you walked over to him and rested your forehead on his shoulder, finally taking a breather; your heart rate slowing down and your blood pressure going down

"thanks Vox"

He chuckled and placed a hand on the back of your neck

"anytime, baby"

Authors note! : I hope this was OKAYYY I did this while someone was talking my ear off so it might be a bit off 😭😭 STILL I hope you liked it thank u Anon!

[h0ney-mochi]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Scara and how he’d react or help reader on their period? This can be headcannons or a small little one shot . Feel free to be creative with it :)

Scaramouche x afab!reader ;; no pronouns mentioned

SFW CONTENT (fem!reader / afab!reader, reader is on their period, Scara is a little confused)

Summary: Hc's/scenario of when Scaramouche finds out you're on your period. Well. You explained it to him.

A/n: sorry for the wait nonnie!! But thank you for being patient ahhhhhh... Thank you for this <33 periods suck ass, good luck to those who r on it !!!! Yeesh... starting to get back into writing, hi 🫶

In my opinion, this guy is most definitely confused at first. But once Scaramouche's got some of his questions answered, he's rather caring. As long as you don't plan on dying on him.

He's confused when he first sees the sight of you curled up, hands on your stomach. Probably asks you what you're trying to do, what's wrong with you until a few sudden thoughts occur.

You're in pain. . . ? You're in pain.

Then he's next to you in an instant, eyes darting all over you. He's asking you what's wrong again, what happened, are you dying??

He's worried, definitely. There's bits of annoyance, frustration too since, well.. for the love of the Archons, don't leave him right now.

But after maybe a few seconds, when you think you're well enough to finally respond, you speak to him. Scaramouche listens, some relief that you're.. fine..? Wait-

"..You're telling me you're bleeding— every month?"

He is still rather confused on that and so he tries to understand. Most of it. So you explain some things, cracking some jokes that the Gods must hate you if they're giving you cramps (which he does not find amusing)

You think you're done with the explanation, slightly apologizing for.. scaring him? Worrying him? And say you'll go to the bathroom for the obvious reasons.

He's still wrapping his mind around it. Decides to do more research on that, because he hates the sight of you clutching your stomach in pain.

Next day he's with you, demands you to tell him what you want. You're confused, because, well.. he can't make your period dissapear magically— so you just shrug, speaking with a nervous smile "A heating pad would be nice..? Chocolate..?"

Of course you'd say something like that. After all, he did use an hour or more of his time to figure out ways to help you. Later that day you're met with sweets that you desired (he didn't go after them, of course not. God forbid him buying sweets for you.. *buys the sweets*)

Would make tea for you. Either bitter how he likes it (if he knows you don't mind the taste) or sweet, if that's more to your liking. Despite not being keen on sugary, sweet things, he'll get it for you. If it helps.

He'll try to be nicer, since now he knows that when you're at that time of the month, you're a little different, sometimes more emotional. Doesn't entirely mean he'll drop his attitude or sassy remarks. You'll just hear a little less of them.

Probably finds out first if you've ran out of pads or tampons. You go to bed, making a mental note to go to the store tomorrow, yet when you wake up and go to the cabinet, you see the packages you needed to buy..

He doesn't admit he bought them for you. Probably says that you're forgetful, since you did say you're a little different on your period.

Scara hates seeing you like this. When you're having cramps, when you're in pain. So he hopes this will end soon.

I mean.. he's not alone since you're hoping the same!

Thank you for the order, hope it suits your taste, dear ♡

© h0ney-mochi 2023 / Please don't copy or repost my work and writings! <3

[miffmuff]

Rob and Gumball's relationship is so funny Rob is genuinely going through a Truman Show-esque nightmare and Gumball just thinks he's larping the whole time. Like Darwin and Gumball even try to be his minions at one point and Gumball gets genuinely horrified and confused when rob actually tries to hurt him. They just think he's just role-playing for fun while he's going through the horrors I'm sickkkk.

THE TRUMAN SHOW MENTIONED!!!

Yeah when Gumball and Darwin suggest being a villain it was for shits and giggles, I don't think they fully grasped that they're giving this depressed amnesiac kid who was desperate enough to live in their basement and has no purpose in life, a "purpose" to fill. And he'll take anything he can get.

Although I don't blame them for thinking it's just harmless roleplay. I mean, Rob gave zero context for his backstory in the nobody. Yeah it makes sense to us cuz we see a flashback, but all he says outloud is "I was one of the worlds mistakes, but you only cared about Molly. You saved her and left me there to rot, but I clung to life" like they don't have knowledge of the void, or saving Molly, what does that even mean. They probably think he's just really good at back stories on the spot.

I do feel bad for Rob, mf just found out their worlds existence is made to entertain some audience, and he's a background character in it. And although it's wrong to pin all of that on the main character aka Gumball I get where he's coming from. Like this world that's wronged you so much is centered around this one guy, and it trashed you because that guy found you kinda forgettable. It really does matter what other people think of you in this universe.

Rob's got all this existential dread and to top it all off he has to deal with it alone. Which is a bit upsetting, also considering he's only 13. He doesn't have much of a support system, villainy is kinda all he has going for him. Without it there's no reason to be in the show aka exist. Going off that interaction in "The Pony", Pre void Rob seems like a nice guy, he's extraverted and friendly. And now he's been shoved into a box labeled evil and has to act on that or else bad things might happen.

My hc is that he won't actually be sent into the void again if he didn't act villainous or whatever he'd just kinda exist off screen. Cuz Molly wasn't sent back and she still remained the same. But it's the fear that he might that drives him, also it's his only purpose in life soo what are you gonna do.

Gumball on the other hand is like hell yeah I have a nemesis this is so awesome!!! It's like being frenemies, like nooo please don't try to kill me but also I'm free next Saturday wanna try again then?

In the disaster is when he realized just how deep Rob's hatred for him ran. Like yeesh dude don't you think getting someones parents divorced and breaking up their relationship is a bit harsh.

But then he forgets it all so we're back to square one.

[zippidi-dooda]

"Hey, Todoroki, there's this coffee shop nearby I've been wanting to go to. Come with me?"

The dual haired boy looked up from his phone.

You leaned over him, hands propping yourself up against the back of the couch. You had dressed out of your sweats and baggy shirt into an outfit more suitable for an outing.

"Seems like you'd go even if I said no." He said sitting up.

"Of course. You think I need you to have fun?"

He hummed then looked back down at his phone. "Then have fun."

"Todoroki." You deadpanned.

When he didn't respond, you sighed and jumped over the couch to sit next to him. "C'mon dude, you know I'm just joking. I need you there for emotional support, I can't place my order myself. Who do you think I am?"

He slumped into the armrest, lifting a slippered foot onto your lap, keeping his eyes connected to his screen. "Then you should go alone. Learn how to do things yourself for once."

You glared at him then pushed leg off you.

"You're so rude. C'mon, please, Todoroki? I promise to get you a drink too. You just ... you'll be physically paying for it. But it'll be my money, swear."

He checked the time for a moment before standing up, headed for his room to change. "Fine. But you come with me to my family dinner next week."

You recoiled at the thought of the tensely awkward situation that would be a Todoroki family dinner.

He made it obvious enough how broken his family's relations were, but pile that on top of you stuck for hours in the same room as the father who greatly disapproved of your friendship with his propitious son?

An absolute nightmare to ensue.

"Yeesh, I think I'd be better off going on my own."

The boy glared at you.

"Fine, fine. Your family's lovely. Now hurry up."

***

Your walk to the shop was pleasant, both you and Todoroki chatting about prospects of the future and commenting on random things that caught your eye.

And as soon as you entered the building, the small bell above the door drawing attention towards you newcomers, eyes couldn't seem to draw away from you.

Well, not you but Todoroki.

The barista taking your order especially seemed to have trouble focusing.

"Excuse me, we're ready to order now." Todoroki repeated, failing to notice how star struck the girl was looking at him.

"... ah, uh, hi, welcome. I'm Mei. What can I do for you?"

As the boy continued to relay your order and pay, missing the subtle hints the barista threw his way, you watched quietly with a smirk on your face.

Todoroki then gave his name and you chose a seat near the window, sitting across from each other.

You leaned across the table, propping your chin up on your hand, giving him a look.

"Well the atmosphere isn't terrible, so let's hope the coffee is up to standards." He looked at you. "... what?"

"Oh, nothing," you looked away nonchalantly, raising your hand to eye your nails. "Just wondering what it's like being the pretty friend."

He raised a brow. "Are you ... insulting me?"

You sighed, leaning forward again but spoke without the teasing tone. "No. Seriously Todoroki, you're hot. And literally everyone can see it. Why do you think everyone stares everywhere you go?"

He shrugged, folding his hands on the table. "Well of course I'm hot. It's part of my quirk. As for the stares, I'd assume it's cause we go to UA. Most everyone knows us by now."

"... I can't with you sometimes. Anyway, whaddya wanna do after this? I'm fine just walkin' around a little. We can go to the park and just chill there until we have to go back."

"Well, there's an arcade a couple blocks down I've heard Ochaco mention before. It sounded fun."

You brightened up, pointing at Todoroki. "Ah, that's a great idea! Haven't been to one in a while. And now that I think of it, I've never been to one with you. Are ya gonna show me up? Show me your gamer side?"

He looked down at the table in thought. "I don't think I've ever been to one. I never had time to go. So I don't really know what it is."

You patted his hand with a sympathetic smile, his life had been crazy from the get go. As great as he was, you didn't want to imagine being in his shoes.

"Well you're gonna regret ever going with me. I will obliterate you in every game, trust."

He smiled with a brow raised, "you really think you can beat me when you can't even beat me at simple games?"

You frowned, smaking his hand, "Hey. I'll have more experience with these games. And I'm pretty good if I do say so myself."

"You also said that when we played tic-tac-toe. And look who's at 10-0 right now? Not you."

You glared at his smug smile for moment. "I hate you."

"Shouto?" A barista shouted up front.

Todoroki stood, heading over to get your drinks. "You should think of something you're good at so you can finally beat me at something one of these days."

"I think I messed up picking you as my friend. Can I get a refund?"

He shook his head with a small chuckle before leaving.

When he came back, drinks in hand, you happily took your cup from him.

You took a sip, letting out a satisfied "ahhh ...."

"Todoroki, lemme have a sip of yours."

He nodded, sliding his cup over. "Can I try yours?"

"Ew, no, I don't want your cooties." You said passing him your cup anyways.

"... cooties?"

You savored the taste of the cool drink he'd picked and looked down at the container.

It was dewy from the ice inside, chilling your hands as you held it. And just underneath your thumb you could make out a phone number scribbled shakily in black marker.

You adjusted your hold to get a better look.

The number held the name of the barista who took your order beside a little message saying "call me" beside a heart.

You grinned devilishly, pointing at it and turing the cup around so Todoroki could see.

"Ooooh~ I think someone has a crush!"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't get crushed ice."

"No, not, ugh," you groaned handing him his cup back. "I meant Mei. She's flirting with you, she thinks you're cute."

"Mei? Is that-"

"No, the lady who took our order and gave you her number. She wants to go out with you."

He looked over at the girl who was busy talking to other customers.

He turned back to you, passing back your drink. "No, I don't think that was meant for me."

"Really. The lady who didn't even notice me when you walked up meant to give that to someone else? Who then, who? Enlighten me."

He sipped his drink with a shrug.

You sighed and took a sip of your drink as well. "I'd imagine you'd make for an annoying boyfriend. Probably shouldn't call her. She'll be crushed, but, hey, it'll save her a lot of trouble."

"What do you mean imagine? I am your boyfriend."

"No, not like that. Not a friend who is a boy, but a boyfriend. You know the kind that takes their girlfriend out a lot and they smooch and stuff?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, we do go out a lot but we don't smooch. Should I start smooching you?"

"... just drink your iced skinny carmel macchiatto with extra carmel."

"Actually it's just an iced coffee."

"I know, Todoroki."

"It tastes good."

"I know."

[hidden-among-stars]

An Identity Without Name

A little while ago, I helped some other folks to coin a new term: Anymic (pronounced ay-nim-ick). The purpose of this term is somewhat paradoxical - it gives a name to identities that have no name (etymologically, anymic translates to "being without a name"). Those of us who coined it, though our experiences differ greatly and our species identities are practically nothing alike, had a few very key things in common:

We know our experiences very well. We have a very good idea of what our species identity is

That species identity does not correlate completely with any species that is known to exist anywhere in the history of this universe or in the known mythology/imaginations of humans

This identity is not a character or species we created in our imaginations, but rather feels like something that did, does, will, can, or should exist either in this world or another - therefore, OCkin doesn't fit

We also expressed frustration with how we are able to introduce ourselves when coming into new alterhuman spaces*. While others are able to be more succinct about their identities - for example, saying "I'm dragonkin" or "I'm a fox therian" - we would have to say something to the effect of "I'm a therian of an unknown species," which gives the wrong idea. It implies that we don't know what species we are, that we don't know what our experiences amount to, that we don't have any sort of image of who we are or what we should be.

The definition we settled on is "An identity that does not possess a formal name (and may be the only one of its kind/type)." As a note, the part about being the only one of its kind/type was added mostly by request of the others who were working on coining this term, but does seem to be an integral part of this type of identity. It was a commonality among all of us who worked on coining the term and the definition. Regardless, one of the most important things about this term is that it insinuates that yes, I do have an idea of what species I am, I do know what my experiences amount to, I have at least some image of who I am or what I should be, there just is no name for what I am.

Of course, this term doesn't negate our potential need to explain our identities further if someone should ask, but it is far easier to say that I am an anymic contherian than to say "I'm a contherian with a theriotype that has no known species name and is not something that is currently known to have existed/currently exist/someday exist, nor is it anything that has appeared in known human mythology/folklore/fiction." Yeesh. What a mouthful.

This is not a term I would necessarily recommend to the newly awakened alterhuman, but rather what I might call a "last resort" term. When you've exhausted all of the options that seem like they might fit, when you've done all the research that you could possibly do, when it just seems like you constantly try and fail to find that one identity that fits - that's when you take on the term anymic. Even more important to recognize, though, is that it's very possible that someday as you continue to search for potential fits, you might finally stumble across something that makes you say "that's it! That's me!" And that's just fine! Anymic isn't a static term that you're stuck with forever, but it's a term that will be there for you when you need it. After all, it's entirely possible that you could find something that makes you say "that's it! That's me!" only to later discover that maybe that doesn't fit either, and you go back to being anymic. The point is, while this is a term that should be considered a last resort, it's also a term that should not under any circumstances be gatekept by age or experience or by whatever one individual considers "enough" research or self reflection.

As for how to use it, it should be considered an extremely versatile term. It can be used on its own - one could simply be "anymic." It can also be used as a microlabel, such as the examples I've already given ("anymic therian"). It could even be used as a secondary identifier - for example, if someone has an identity that seems to be a un-named subspecies of a known species, or is part of a larger category (of whatever kind) but doesn't fit any known identities within that category, they could say they are an "anymic fox therian" or "anymic draconic otherkin." How it is utilized in a line-up of labels is entirely dependent on the individual who uses it, so long as it maintains the definition of being a known, understood identity that simply has no formal name.

I might be biased, but I think this is an important term to add to our general alterhuman vocabulary. Personally, one of the things that made me feel somewhat alienated from the rest of the community is that when introducing myself I have to either give less than the full story by saying that my theriotype is "unknown," or practically write an entire book about my identity. Coining this term with others who have been experiencing the same sort of feeling helped me immensely to see that I'm not the only one with an identity that doesn't have a proper name. To be able to just say "I know what I am, but I just don't have a name to give you to describe what I am" in just one word is honestly game-changing, and it would be incredible to see this term catch on so those of us who have this experience could even more easily connect.

Obviously use of this term by those who have this experience isn't a necessity, but it's an option that so far seems to be appreciated.

*When I say alterhuman spaces, I mean alterhuman spaces in general, not just therian/otherkin spaces. I am well aware that alterhuman =/= nonhuman identity, I promise! This post may be more focused on the nonhuman-type identities, but an anymic identity can apply to just about any identity that otherwise has no formal name.

[deer-hearted]

Okay, ages ago I had an idea that was quite similar to @jellynut 's AU, but since it wasn't used like I intended it to, I decided to write it down now as a form of a gift.

I had it in my head for, like 7 years. Now it's your turn to get stuck with it.

Do demons have dreams?

He isn't sure when exactly has it all started, but it had to be something minuscule, not important enough to notice at all. Laughs that were just a tad more loud than usual, sudden waves of anger or annoyance he paid no attention to: he was a moody old geezer, after all, what's so special about it?

But it was special, in a way he absolutely didn't want it to be. Because the estranged emotions rolled out a red carpet, and the dreams followed suit. Places he had never been to, worlds he could never even try to imagine washed over his mind every night like waves licking the board of their boat. Some dreams were light as a feather, some left him nauseous and with a strong desire to take a shower. A crustless sandwich on a spotless white plate. Creatures with faces that didn't even look like faces. The wheel of a fancy car gripped tight by his own fingers. Strange magic rituals performed in a smoky haze. Piles of human hearts, apparently fresh-cut and still bleeding. A young man wearing a genuine smile and hope for the brighter future on a face identical to his own.

Oh, they were not just dreams. And Stanley knew who had to be the owner: sure enough, their mom made them sandwiches too, but not so... flat. Yeesh.

He had punched that triangle bastard so hard, that something must have started to seep through cracks. Something that could either poison them both, or, possibly, give him the upper hand.

Stanley sucks in a deep breath, staring at the waters below. Here we go.

"You there?"

Sharp pain strickes him right between his eyes to remind — yes, he is. He's always there, like some sort of parasite, waiting desperately to be surgically removed.

Oh, that's new. Now you wanna hear me? What's the matter, sailor? Got bored on that teeny-tiny boat of yours? Finally built the gut to eat your twin and don't know where to begin with? I could gladly instruct you, you know.

What? No. Concentration is the key. His fingers clench into fists tighter, knuckles turning pale white. He has to try it, he's running out of options. But could the parasite be even reasoned with?

"I have seen your dreams."

Pause. His breath hitches — and then turns into unwanted laughter, echoing a much louder one from the inside of his mind, shaking him to his very core.

No you haven't. I get it, you have been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, so let me get this clear for you: I AM A DREAM DEMON. How would it look like if I myself had dreams? Who would've haunted them? Me?

"Right, so instead of that abracadabra our subconscious brings up you see your own memories stuck on repeat, no?"

Pause. Waves hit the boat again and again.

Nonsense. Now you're just making stuff up about me. Obsessed much?

"How else would I know about that wonderful "All 70s Greatest Hits" sing-along you had with my brother?"

No response. Disgust coils inside him heavily, empowered by a single fact: all of it must be true indeed, then. But he must go on.

"He'd never tell me about that shit. You're inside my head, smartpants. You can check for yourself."

This time the deafening silence is different, for it is pregnant with meaning. Bill had no idea. He didn't know he knew and, what's more important, what he knew and if there's more.

He hit the nail. All he has to do now — to pull it through. Stanley grits his teeth with angry determination that might not be entirely his own and spits into the waves below.

"Alright, listen here, ya mama's boy. If I tell Sixer about you..."

Pain blinds him again, forcing to hiss. It's always ugly when Bill wants to emphasize his point.

You're not going to, we both know it.

"Shut it! WHEN I tell Sixer about you... I don't have to fill him on everything, ya know."

If the subsiding pain doesn't indicate Bill is listening intently now, he doesn't know what else to make of it.

"You can keep your awful memories to yourself, and whatever it is that you felt, too. That is — if you leave my memories alone. No messing with them, no deleting, no overwriting, no nothing. One slip up, and I stomp your goddamn pride into the ground. Am I clear?"

He's so tired, he wants to dive right into the ocean so the cold waves could wash away all the pain, the stiffness in his body, the images that are now bound to reside in his mind forever. But he also won, because the voice in his head is now steel-clean, and the words feel like a searing brand.

It's a deal, then.

[spotaus]

Did some redesign mock-ups for Ec-4o.verse Cross, Fresh, and Error!

These guys didn't really *need* redesigns but I was having a ball with Trech (Ec-4o!Fresh) and gave him Arcade Carpet designs and decided I needed to redesign some others too! (Check below the cut for Old Designs, Lore, and a Stupid Screenshot from my pal @/Neonsix67)

So OLD DESIGNS:

(We're gonna act like I drew Trech more than twice-)

So, old art, yucky, whatever. We know the drill lmao- but because Ec-4o.verse is such an ongoing project these guys have been through a bunch of redesigns. Regrettably, me from 2 years ago was unaware of Layering and Shape Language, so they look kinda gross.

Cross' design has consistently been my favorite I think, just because he was a later addition and so had a bunch of my newer ideas integrated. They all have their flaws tho (Cross was too lean and got thrown between Baby and Grown Guy too often in my art. Error uhhh... yeesh. When I say I couldn't draw him, I meant it. I never knew what to do with his wires and I kept putting him in armor? Fresh just wasn't fleshed out enough. He was that SparkleDog of my verse.)

Also: I wanted Fresh to be top-heavy, like, big baggy round clothes on his upper half then lil guy legs. Cross I wanted to be more flat and strict, hense his clothes being all Tube-shaped. Then Error needed Triangle vibes. His old design was too Rectangle for me. The exposed limbs are mostly just for me because I love a-symmetry and also I don't keep a consistent clothing style, so I like to keep a visually interesting element (like a limb) exposed for clarity's sake when I draw them in new poses later.

LORE:

Cross: A robot (Ecto) who was initially a Guard-Model ecto. He was one of the last to be turned over when the government was rallying citizens to donate their bots to fight in the war. He was remodeled and supplied with a special task by his Programmer: Protect THE FILES at all costs. He's rather small for a guard-bot, but makes up for it with his agility and sheer stubbornness. Blue finds him heavily damaged and on low battery in an old lab, guarding a room that was sealed tight. His Old design utilized Shields (scarf detached to become them) but his new design is much more focused on quick bursts of offense. If he gets you first, then you're no longer a threat.

Error: an Ecto who was one of the first bots handed over. He was a former data storage bot that worked at a small library. As one of the first data-bots to come in, he was immediately modified and put to work alongside other Ectos to compile all of the nation's history into their data banks. Error was particularly receptive to overloads of data, so he continued to be modified and made into the prime data-bank. When the war started, he was eventually hidden away and sealed in an air-tight room. Eventually Cross was sent to guard the door. They were eachother's only company for... years? Error isn't fond of touch or tampering with hid systems, as everything he knows is barely abd haphazardly stored on unsafe files. Each Crash he endures takes more and more of his own personal data away, and he refuses to lose any more.

Fresh (Trech): A Parasite that was created by Sci to repair living beings in the same way that an Ecto can auto-repair itself. Fresh is actually a liquid that, when placed in contact with a wounded/dying person, it can invade their systems and stop all forms of bleeding/dusting. Fresh wasn't supposed to be sentient, and was meant to be scrapped, but he ended up being vital in stopping the war. In turn, Sci granted him freedom. Fresh can inhabit humans, monsters, and Ectos, but prefers skeleton monsters. He often defies the logic of his world, but what Fresh doesn't? Blue meets him far into the story after he's unraveled a lot of mysteries. Fresh just drops by after hearing rumors of Blue's repair work, and is met by less-than-warm reception from Error and Geno.

Other:

I was trying to save the image and my phone was bugging out, so I sent it to Neon. Safe to say she has peak comedic timing 😌💖 (For the record, we are both adults, and also my parents are aware I draw utmv stuff, so she had to make the threat actually a threat lmao---) I also love Chilchuck talking with the Operator. We are the dynamic duo frfr.

[gaybananabread]

♡~A Mother Always Knows⁠~⁠♡

~I’ve been reading a ton of sad books recently, so I needed something fluffy to get myself back together. So, here’s a completely self-indulgent fic I felt needed to exist. Fair warning, I haven’t seriously written in a few weeks, so this might suck. If you’re still here, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Miles

Ler: Rio

Summary: Miles’s job as Spider-Man has been weighing heavier on him, and school and the Spider-Verse isn't helping. Rio notices almost instantly, and while she may not know what's causing her baby to feel so stuck, she knows exactly how to give him a little boost.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

THIS IS NOT A SHIP! IT'S A MOTHER LOVING HER SON! DON'T BE WEIRD!

Groaning, Miles keysmashed on his laptop, trying and failing to generate ideas. He’d done everything: rewarding writing websites, the Comic Sans trick, drinking electrolyte-heavy beverages. Nothing was working.

His English teacher had assigned another essay, and he was completely stuck. Miles was an artist, not a writer; the creative essay assignments loved to kick his ass. That, coupled with the actual routine kicking of his ass from villains, left him all sorts of stressed out.

Deciding he needed a break from staring at the white screen, Miles got up and went to the kitchen. He had all weekend to complete the creative essay; unfortunately for him, that was prime villain attack time. He had barely gotten to sit down and work for a cumulative of two hours.

Rio had been noticing her son’s off behavior for almost the entire year he’d been Spider-Man. It was negligible at first: forgotten assignments, baggy eyes, messy appearances. Those were typical for teenagers going into High School.

So, when she saw him stumble into the kitchen while favoring his left side, her mama bear instincts kicked in.

Over time, however, it had progressed to very noticeable, very worrisome changes. While she hadn’t confronted Miles yet, Rio was definitely not oblivious.

After all, a mother always knows.

“Miles, siéntate ahora.” Her voice was loving, but undoubtedly stern; he’d be smart to listen, and listen he did. Miles sat down at the kitchen table, doing his best not to limp. It wasn’t enough.

Rio set a bowl of Cheez-Itz in front of him before sitting across from him. Miles could feel the heat grow beneath his collar; she was using her Mom Face. For a solid four minutes, she just sat there, watching him as he snacked. Just act natural, just be cool, just eat the damn crackers…

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or are we just gonna sit here?” Yeesh, there was that tone. Miles knew there was zero way of getting out of there without some sort of conversation.

“Just…loaded up, Mami. I’ve got a lot on my plate with Visions, ya know?” He tried to pin it all on school, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t technically a lie; he did have a lot of stress due to assignments, especially his English teacher.

Rio sighed a bit; that was true, sure, but not the entire story. It worried her to see her baby like that, even more so when he wouldn’t let her help. Still, she had to find a way to get him to de-stress, even if she didn’t know the full cause.

“Hmm. Couch,” she ordered, standing and heading to their living room. Sure, it was a short walk, but she could still be mysterious.

Miles knew better than to argue, setting the empty bowl in the sink before joining her. He was stiff, his mind spinning with all sorts of theories and questions. Was she gonna press the issue? Did she know, and was just trying to see how much he would lie to her? Was she gonna ground him indefinitely for not coming clean?

Instead of confirming her son’s fears, Rio just pulled him into a hug by the shoulders. Miles’s eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed, resting his head on his mom’s chest. Man, he was tired…

“I love you, Miles. I know something’s wrong, and I know it’s hard for you to tell me. Just…remember that I’m always here for you, okay?”

Miles felt his heart lift at her words. She…she really loved him. She knew he was lying, but she still loved him. He swallowed a small lump forming in his throat before nodding; he didn’t trust his voice.

Now that she’d gotten him nice and emotional, Rio decided he needed to cheer up a bit. Miles was so stressed and reserved most of the time. She missed the days where his bright, unapologetic smile would light up their home - especially his giggles. How Rio longed to see him happy like that again…

Oh. Lightbulb.

“Thank you, baby. You just seem so sad anymore. Me encantaría verte sonreír de nuevo.” Shifting her hand down Miles’s side, she tried to hide her growing smile. If she wanted to surprise her son, she had to be crafty.

Miles's brain lagged a bit as he translated her words. Smile again? What...why was his spider-sense going off?

"Lucky for you, I think I remember how to fix that," she crooned. Then, in a gentle and teasy way, she started wiggling her fingers into her son's side.

The teen's eyes shot wide open, a giggle slipping out. His mom was...tickling him? It wasn't something they'd done in a while, thanks to his constantly loaded schedule and isolating tendencies. It immediately made him giddy and lit his nerves on fire.

"M-Mahahahahahami! W-Whahahat?!" Miles was shocked, kicking his feet against the couch. How could just a few fingers tickle so much?

"What? It's kinda obvious, Miles. I'm tickling you!" Her other hand joins the fray, pulling her son against her. While Miles was a helluva lot stronger than her, he couldn't risk overdoing it. So, like a true man, he giggled his heart out.

"Dohohon't sahay thahahat! Mohom!" Right as Miles tried to pry her hand off, Rio started to scribble on his belly. His giggles shot up for a moment, turning to adorable belly laughter.

"HEHEHEhehey! C'mohohon!" Two hands was just being mean. Rio was loving all the giggles, and she could feel the tenseness in his shoulders melting away against her. There was no way she could stop at that point.

"Don't say what, papa? Tickle? How about this? Cosquillas cosquillas cosquillas~" Rio quickly whispered the words in his ear, loving the squeak she got in return. Her son was just the cutest, even when he was trying to be all macho.

The teasing fried his brain, leaving him a squirming mess of nonsensical babbling and giggles. The t-word in one language was bad enough, but two? And in his ear? His mom was killing him!

Deciding to be cruel, Rio suddenly jammed both her hands into his underarms. Miles was tired, so she had to hit the sweet spots quickly.

"NAHAHAHA! *snort* MOHOHOHOHOM!" Miles shrieked and thrashed, absolutely losing his shit when his mom targeted his worst spot. Her nails were torturous, far worse than Hobie's lanky fingers or Pav's loving squishes. It shot ticklish lightning zipping across his skin, sending him into near hysterics.

Rio cooed at her son's near manic reaction, giggling as he snorted. Miles was always trying to act tough, but he just couldn't get any cuter.

Miles was sort of exploding inside. He was already tired from patrols, and now he was laughing his ass off; the boy was ready to crash. His mind was a goopy mess of flustered joy and giggles, rendering him unable to speak. Still, he could feel his stress melting away, leaving him in a stupidly happy, ticklish bliss.

Still, it tickled like crazy, and he couldn't last forever.

"MOHOHOHO- *snort* OHOM! IHIHI CAHAHAN'T!" Small tears of mirth pricked at the corners of his eyes as he tapped out. Rio stopped as soon as he said that, moving to pet his hair and rub his shoulder soothingly.

"Te tengo, Miles. Take a breath." She held him close, trying to help him regain his composure.

Miles was still reeling, giggling off the phantom tickles. After that lovely attack, he was completely drained. Thanks to his mother's gentle pets, he was on the verge of passing out right then and there.

"Ohoho crap... Whyhy?" Miles failed to stifle a yawn and rubbed his sides as he asked. His mother chuckled at his attempt before answering. "Because you needed to relax, Miles. You're too stressed anymore."

He rolled his eyes, but she wasn't wrong; he was practically limp against her. "Ihi...yeah, I guess. Still though, that was overkill."

She chuckled and booped his nose, making him grunt. "Maybe a bit. Now, do yourself a favor and take a nap."

Miles begrudgingly closed his eyes, mumbling something about not being a baby anymore. Still, thanks to her gentle head pats and his exhaustion, he was nodding off in seconds.

"Te quiero, Miles. Sleep tight."

Rio couldn't help but smile at the sight. Her son was finally relaxed; she couldn't find a trace of the earlier stress on his face. After he relaxed, she'd work on the essay with him. It might not get far, but they'd struggle together. That was what mattered, especially to her. She kissed the top of his head with a small, happy sigh.