#look when i say shit like this out of context it sounds real bad but i promise its much more boring..

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Can you please write a fic for the prompt “late night chats”?

The sound of Ron’s footsteps treading up the stairs to the dormitory slowly fades, and they’re finally alone in the Common Room. 

Ginny makes a show of checking to make sure the coast is clear, and then she burrows happily into Harry’s side, snuggling deeper into the squashy sofa by the fire. His arm snakes around her waist to pull her in closer. They should probably go to bed, too, but it seems wasteful not to eke out every moment she can, to wring this weekend completely dry of moments with him. 

“Thought he’d never leave,” Ginny says with a sly grin. “I was ready to sit on your lap just so he’d get the hint.”

“Were you?” Harry says with interest. Then, he turns his head toward the stairs, and calls, “Ron?” as though to summon him back. 

Ginny snorts and pokes him in the side, and he turns that devastating smirk back at her - flashing green eyes, crooked lips, the hint of a dimple - the one that’s had her slowly losing her mind for months. 

She still can’t quite believe she’s allowed to kiss the smirk off his lips, now. She does, just to prove it’s real. 

Every moment alone they’ve stolen has taken on this oxymoronic tone: bodily tangible, like she can reach out and grasp their growing tangle of feelings as easily as a Quaffle, but wholly surreal, like they’re some elaborate daydream snatched from her subconscious. Both, and neither. 

She pulls back and smiles at him, and he does too, something wry creeping into their expressions, something that seems to say, we’re nauseating but I can’t help it. 

He’s made her so quickly greedy for more, the git. It’s been two days of kissing and banter and touches, overwhelming and not enough. 

“Tell me something,” she says, suddenly, “that you haven’t told anyone before.”

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, and Ginny’s plunged immediately into the vulnerability of her question, the implication of it. I want to be closer, she’s asking, do you? But, she’s not in Gryffindor for nothing, and so she holds his gaze and withstands his onslaught of silence. 

“Hm,” he says, looking thoughtful. “About what?”

“Anything,” she shrugs. “Whatever.”

Harry furrows his brow, stares ahead into the middle distance, and Ginny holds her breath, waiting to find out whether he’ll hand her a key or if she’ll have to keep knocking, knowing already she’s succumbed to knocking at his door until her knuckles bruise. 

“I dunno if my dad was a good person,” Harry says without preamble. 

Ginny doesn’t know what she’d expected him to tell her, but it hadn’t been that. “What makes you say that?”

He stares at his knees and explains about the Occlumency lessons with Snape. The memory he was never supposed to see. His father, every bit the bully Snape had always claimed. 

“--that’s why I wanted to talk to Sirius, last year,” Harry admits. “When you helped distract Umbridge. Stupid, I know–”

“It’s not stupid,” Ginny says fiercely. She feels the weight of it, what he’s told her. Wondering about someone who isn’t around to ask. Grieving someone and the idea of them at once. “What did Sirius say?”

“He said he grew out of it,” Harry says, though his tone says loud and clear that this explanation hadn’t been satisfactory to him. “But, I dunno. Means he was still a git before, doesn't it?”

“Maybe,” Ginny agrees. “Or maybe that was his worst moment.”

“Pretty shit moment.”

“Yeah,” Ginny admits, leaning her head on her hand, propped up on the back of the sofa so that she’s turned to face him. “Pretty shit. But I’d hate it if my future children only got to see me… oh, I dunno. Hex Zacharias Smith. Or slip that itching powder into Romilda Vane’s pumpkin juice.”

Harry shoots her a look. “When did you do that?”

“She tried to give you a love potion and got my brother poisoned, Harry.”

Harry snorts. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Well, that’s what I mean. We’ve all had shit moments that’d look terrible without proper context. My future children wouldn’t have any idea what Romilda had done to get on my bad side, would they?”

“I suppose,” Harry says, though he still sounds unconvinced. “But I don’t reckon there’s any context that’d make him look much better. I’m not saying Snape was a saint, I’m sure he gave as good as he got. But it… my dad was humiliating him. On purpose.”

“Mm,” Ginny hums slowly, mulling it over. “Do you reckon Sirius was right? That he did grow out of it?”

Harry swipes a hand through his messy hair. “He must’ve. My mum married him. Sirius and Lupin said he was better. But, I dunno. Maybe he did. I’ll never know, anyway.”

Ginny reckons that’s the real problem - the never knowing. Forgiveness is a difficult thing to offer when the person isn’t around to ask for or receive it. 

“I wish,” she says wistfully, “you’d got to see more. People can’t be all bad, I don’t think. I’m sure Sirius and Lupin have hundreds of memories that you would’ve liked him in. Makes it easier not to like him in that one.”

Harry’s lips part, and then he nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

She’s still thinking about it when Harry shocks her. “What about you, then?”

“Hmm?” she asks, confused. 

Harry jerks his head at her and nudges her knee with his own. “Your turn. Something you’ve never said to anyone.”

Ginny meets his eye, the warmth billowing through her chest like a cloud of candyfloss. He wants to know her, too. The thought - I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone - threatens to spill from her lips, but she holds her tongue, wanting to offer him something of equal weight. 

“I use the bathroom on the second floor whenever I can,” she says, knowing he’ll understand which one she means. “Just to prove I’m not bothered by it. Only, it does bother me. Maybe that’s why I keep using it.”

He looks stricken. “Do you still think about it a lot? The Chamber?”

Ginny shrugs, perhaps a bit more nonchalant than she actually feels. “A bit. Still get nightmares sometimes, but not as often as I used to.”

“Yeah,” he says, and she’s struck for a moment by the fact that they might be haunted by the same ghost. “Me, too.”

She shoots him a commiserating look, and continues. “But it’s not about… about Riddle, really. I mean, it is. But it’s more about… me.”

“What do you mean?” His stare is so piercing, like he’s trying to see straight through to her soul. She imagines he can. 

“I dunno. It was awful, obviously, what happened. But when I think back on it, what actually bothers me…” she chews on her words, trying to articulate the vague shame that always clings to these memories, “is that I was so stupid.”

“What?” Harry says sharply. “You were eleven. That diary… it’s… you weren’t stupid.” His words are so firm that it steals her breath. “That was a powerful bit of Dark Magic, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“No, I know that. Logically, I know that. But, I dunno. I wrote so many pathetic things in that diary.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out a bit scratchy. “I was so lonely, after Ron left for school. So desperate to go off to Hogwarts and have mad adventures and play Quidditch and… meet you.” She stares down at her hands, the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her. “I just hate that he knows all that, that I was this pathetic, desperate little girl–”

“He doesn’t,” Harry says. “The version of him you wrote to is gone. The real one doesn’t know any of it.”

“Oh,” she replies, coming up short. “How do you…? Well, never mind, you haven’t got to answer that, I suppose–”

“It’s not that I don’t want to–”

“No, I know,” Ginny says quickly, unable to bear some platitude, not from him, “Really, you haven’t–”

“Whatever you wrote in that diary died with it,” Harry says firmly. “I promise.”

Ginny nods, and lets the words sink in. Ever since Riddle had come back, she’d wondered whether pathetic little Ginny Weasley was somewhere in the back of his mind. Weak. Stupid. An easy target, close to Harry. The relief that she might just be anyone – no one, even – to this version of Riddle, is palpable. 

“Thanks,” Ginny breathes. “That makes me feel a bit… better.”

“You weren’t pathetic,” Harry says, like the thought is so absurd he’d never considered she might feel that way. “It’s quite impressive you managed to resist it for so long, actually.”

Everything that had happened with that diary has been so tinted with shame, with weakness, that Harry might consider her brave for it… it feels so antithetical to everything she’d ever thought, she nearly laughs. 

“Right,” Ginny says, deflecting away with a joke. “I’m sure all those roosters thought I was very impressive.”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t laugh. “That wasn’t you. It was him.”

Easy to say, harder to feel. “The Department of Mysteries wasn’t you, either.”

Harry stares at her, and she holds his gaze unwaveringly. She can see she’s made her point, can read in the pull of his brow that Harry understands exactly the weight of a guilt so heavy that words can’t lighten it. Just as plainly, though, she can see that he hates that she’s carrying it at all. 

Fair enough, really. She hates that he is, too. 

She breaks eye contact and nestles back into his side. She lifts up his hand with hers, plays absently with his fingers. “Why haven’t you ever told Ron and Hermione about your dad?”

He considers for a long moment, letting her play with his hand and pulling her in closer with the other. “Dunno, really. Just felt… defensive, I suppose. Like whatever they’d said, it would’ve bothered me.”

“I get that.” She winces. “Did I upset you?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “It’s not like that, with you.”

The words melt in her heart like honey, covering everything in sweet, sticky warmth. She ceases her mindless fiddling with his fingers and looks up at him, knowing her face must be an open book, knowing it must be apparent that he’s got her whole honey-coated heart in his hands. “It’s not like that with you, either.”

He stares back at her, deep into her eyes, and for the first time it occurs to her to check her own palm for his.

He leans down and kisses her deeply, and she pulls herself up and snakes her arms around his neck. This thing has always been irritatingly there, for Ginny - the way she can read exactly what he’s thinking without even trying, the way she trusts him absolutely, the way he makes her heart skitter like she’s in a free fall. 

It’d never honestly occurred to her how powerful it would be to have it reciprocated. To have him understand what she’s saying so completely, to have him offer her something vulnerable just because she asked, to feel his heart hammering against her own. 

It’s been two bloody days, and yet she’s slipped past the point of no return with him already. Perhaps she’d started there. 

She pulls back from the kiss, feeling breathless. Harry looks a bit winded, himself. 

“We should probably go to bed,” he mutters, eyes still locked with hers. 

They should, probably. 

And they will. Eventually.

[rottenpumpkin13]

What's the latest tea from Kunsel? 👀 🍵

When asked to spill gossip, Kunsel becomes an unskippable cutscene.

Kunsel: "Finally. I've been sitting on these for weeks."

Kunsel: "Zack appropriated the men's bathroom on the east wing of the SOLDIER base as a petting zoo. He's even charging people to pet the animals. It's booming, too. I heard he's even got a waiting list to pet tonberries."

Kunsel: "Word on the street says Reno's been delivering crates into the SOLDIER lounge labeled 'medical supplies,' but bystanders said they heard pills rattling. Sephiroth bought the stuff from him, which shocked a few people. They think it's illegal stuff. Real ones know it's the premium ibuprofen. The good stuff, not that cheap crap they give out at Medical."

Kunsel: "Angeal? I saw the guy walk out of the men's room, clear as day, with a faint lipstick mark on his neck. Thing is, no one went in or out besides him. So either his date is some kind of vent escape artist, or—my favorite theory—he's making out with ghosts now. Can't rule it out. He's weird enough."

Kunsel: "Oh, and Sephiroth. He's been spending his free time in the archives lately. Like, a lot of time. Apparently digging through old personnel files and Shinra history books. You know, looking for answers about his origins. Man, I would not want to be there the day he finds what he's looking for."

Kunsel: "There's a betting pool in SOLDIER about when Lazard's next mental breakdown will be. Current odds favor next Tuesday, but only because the bouncy castle Zack ordered online arrives next Monday."

Kunsel: "Genesis has apparently been writing self-insert fanfiction. Heard someone found a draft on his desk. It’s basically Loveless, but the protagonist is just him, but taller and with a better sword. There's also a Sephiroth kissing scene somewhere in there."

Kunsel: "Reeve's set to lose his shit any day now. Someone swears he might be Cait Sith. You know, the little robot cat? It sounds insane, but listen to this: during a meeting with the president, Reeve supposedly slipped up and said, in a full-blown accent "shove yer plans, Shinra, they're shite!" President didn't even blink, he was so alarmed

Kunsel: "And Hojo's been ordering tons of bananas. Like, crates of them up to R&D. No explanation, no context. Just bananas. Honestly, that's one I don't want to dig into. Whatever it's for, it's definitely bad news."

Kunsel: "Oh yeah! I ran into that blond cadet in the air ducts this morning. Cloud Strife. Man, he's so cool. I wish I had the balls to hover above the vent in Sephiroth's office and whisper "Your mother isn't Jenova. Go to therapy" down at him until he thinks it's an auditory hallucination, has a nervous breakdown, and takes the rest of the day off."

[silversodas]

Interesting Alastor Insights

I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.

Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie

And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..

“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”

And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight

When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her

Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while

When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship

“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”

This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”

Alastor’s response threw me for a loop

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”

So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.

What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.

And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.

And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation

I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now

I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song

But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent

[justmeinadaze]

Ok I'm home. I've taken a breather. My cat is in my lap. Let's discuss Warfare.

Trigger warning: PTSD

Spoilers under the cut.

Fantastic movie. From start to finish I enjoyed it and I do like them mentioning that it's all from memory because that puts certain cinematic choices into context. For example: Ray scratching his head, Erik kinda lackadaisical moving from room to room, Sam running his finger over the dust.

When you have a traumatic memory (speaking from experience) sometimes you lose big pieces and sometimes you lose chunks here and there but alot of times you remember the insignificant shit. A certain smell or texture of something. The atmosphere in the air... it would explain why they most likely remember the whole Call On Me at the beginning.

They remember a good moment of them together and laughing before chaos. Probably "You never would have guessed how that day would be what it was with how it started" kind of thing.

The acting was amazing and really helped pull you into the experience. Will Poulter, D'Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, and of course our Joe. I'm not just saying that as a fan. There's a reason they keep casting him in projects and it shows here.

That whole "Who's severely wounded?" Scene almost had me crying.

To see how much Will Poulter has grown as an actor from We're The Millers to this is wonderful👏.

The sound design in this film... that's what I want to talk about the most and where I would say watch this movie with caution. My PTSD isn't military based but the way they used sound to encapsulate what they experienced...

The sound of the bombs and the little tap of how they land on the floor. The ringing in the background. The bang of the gun fire. Just wow.

For me, I had to step out because after the first explosion there's a scene with Joe screaming (hes kinda screaming for a whole hour), guns going off, the walkie talkie chatter, soldiers in the room talking, and that ringing. I felt my anxiety rise because for me that's how it sounds when I'm over stimulated. Everything is so loud and bombarding. It's like sound is trying to attack you.

Add in the visuals... believe it or not I didnt expect the amount of gore in this film. When Ray pushes on Joe's leg and he screams I grabbed my friends jacket like "Ahhhhhhhh!"

I read that this movie takes place in real time. From the time they enter the house to the end when the people come out... that's how long the battle actually was. During the whole film and feeling everything... an hour and a half felt so long. Imagine how that was for them living it.

Whoever keeps saying this movie is pro war either hasn't seen it or saw a completely different movie. Nobody wins in this film and EVERYONE walks away scarred by war. There's no flashy moments you see in other war films showing of the weapons and "oh look at me I'm a bad ass solider." No. Its raw and real.

I highly recommend it. It was an amazing movie and my friend and I enjoyed it. If you have mental health issues at all I insist you enter with caution. I'm glad I saw it in theaters but thankfully I was with one of my safe people. If that all sounds like alot I say wait till it comes out on demand. That way you can pause it and step away if you need to❤

[haithhegimp]

RHATO has terrible writing (a collection)

most of us know that red hood and the outlaws has horrible writing, but i don't think people who haven't read it realise how bad it is. because even without mischaracterization, even without garbage plot, even without nonsensical story beats-- the very quality of the writing is terrible. here is a collection of things that wouldve been corrected by the most ameteaur proofreader out there and somehow made it into a real official canon DC book. (up till issue 4 of the 2011 version, i will almost definitely be making more installments of this)

(1)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #2]

i... think that was supposed to be a pun on smooth but it makes absolutely no fucking sense and jason's reply makes even less sense. if roy is calling jason smooth, what the fuck does move have to do with it? is it implying that jason put a move/flirted with the woman who gave him her number???? because jason didn't, and roy knows that. so then what is the move supposed to mean here? and i assume that the joke in jason's reply is supposed to be that there is nothing sounding like a "you" in traction, but like what the fuck does he mean by "traction"???? these are the definitions of traction according to oxford dictionary

and absolutely none of them make a lick of sense in this context.

(2)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #2]

con air is a 1997 american film about millitary whatever-the-fuck. either this is a reference to something in the film, or this is for some reason using filipino slang for an air conditioner. to my understanding, con air is not a classic american film that americans reference often or would know about casually, and even if it was the joke would be excluding an extremely large audience of dc that is outside of the US. my point being, why the fuck are you putting semi-obscure movie references into a comic that is very mainstream and almost definitely for international audiences, scott? i could read the plot of the film or watch the film to see if its even a valid reference but fuck that im proving my own point here as an international reader who doesn't understand what the hell this is supposed to mean even after fucking LOOKING IT UP. IF YOURE WRITING A MAINSTREAM COMIC WITH WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE VERY COMPREHENDABLE LANGUAGE, ABSOLUTELY NO ONE SHOULD BE LOOKING SHIT UP TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #2]

there are so many horrible things about this dialogue exchange that i feel like im having aneurysm. we'll start with suzie. these are the definitions of a homestead

absolutely none of them correspond or make sense to be used for the fancy high-rise hotel-like building that jason owns and they are currently in, nor does it make sense as being slang for a home because they are in HONG KONG and the word comes from oceania, north america, and south africa. not to mention "gone and come back" is just bad fucking wording. its clunky and confusing, is she saying that he's left and returned? or is she using "gone and" to express annoyance at jason returning to hong kong? it doesn't really matter in terms of overall understanding but its little things like that which fuck up the flow of reading.

moving on, a fainting couch is couch with a back raised on one end, it is popularly speculated that the fainting couch got its name due to victorian women feeling faint due to tight corsets-- although the name wasn't seen in usage until the 20th century. i genuinely have no fucking clue what suzie is talking about whatsoever when she refers to having one. it makes less than zero sense to me.

and finally for suzie, the progression of the sentence makes no fucking sense. "as i live and breathe! jason has gone and come back to the homestead, and me without my fainting couch!" what the fuck is that???? she starts with an exclamation of surprise, follows it with someone doing something in noun verb noun format, and then continues with someone lacking something in noun adjective noun format??? thats just not how sentences work? at least not good sentences. like regardless of the fact that what she's saying makes no sense, at least the correct way of saying it would be something like "as i live and breath! jason has gone and come back to the homstead, and i'm without my fainting couch!" or something like "jason, back in the homestead, and me without my fainting couch!" having two different structures in the same sentence is awkward and weird.

and MOVING ON to jason's line. here are the definitions of undercarriage

first of all, what the fuck is the scent of undercarriage??????? i genuinely have no fucking clue what in the hell that's supposed to be. and second of all, what is undercarriage supposed to be in this context???????? im so fucking confused i dont understand this line whatsoever.

(3)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #2]

"fry my bucket" is not a real phrase, scott.

(4)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #3]

sublingual doesn't mean what you think it means, scott.

(5)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

im so fucking confused. what the hell does "a xenophobe. not many of them around." even mean?? its one of those things that almost makes sense if you give it a quick glanceover but is absolutely bonkers if you look at it for more than one second. is kori saying that xenophobes are rare???????? what?? no they are not????????

(6)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

the race of people living on tamaran are called tamaraneans. scott knows this. he has used "tamaranean" in other places, i don't know how or why the person that has supposedly been stalking and researching aliens for the past five years of his life would say "tamaran" instead of "tamaranean". this is the equivalent of an alien in fiction saying "earth" instead of "earthling" or "human". im not rereading this shit but im also 80% sure that the guy has said "tamaranean" before, so i dont know what happened here.

(7)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

here is the definition of clandestine.

either these University Scientists were conducting illegal experiments and that is just never brought up or mentioned or expanded on again (which is shitty writing in a different way), or that word doesn't mean whatever you think it means, scott.

(8)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

here is the definiton of transubstantiation.

a transsubstantiator (which, why are there two "s" between trans and sub when the base word only has one?) is fictional and fake, so i suppose that its technically fine to use the word for whatever he wants but i still think its fucking stupid, and this is MY list/collection. (btw the machine was supposed to take away kori's powers. and im not christian or an expert on christianity but i dont think thats what the base word is supposed to be about.)

(9)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

jason's response here is one of things that almost makes sense, but doesn't if you look at it for more than one second. what the fuck does he mean by "unless there's anyplace hotter."?? like is he saying that he wants to go to a hot place after he dies? that heat is bad and so if there was a more hot place he'd be going there? i really don't know, and i don't understand.

(10)

[Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011) #4]

the fact that his monologue is split between boxes tricks the reader into thinking it makes sense so i'm going to write it out for yall to understand that it does Not.

"I prepared for this night years ago. A year of training under the All-Caste. A night none of us believed would ever happen. Why am I so happy? Because I know I'm ready. Who knows? Maybe I was born ready."

that just... is nonsensical. first he goes on about training and being prepared and then he immediately contradicts himself by saying "maybe i was born ready". the "why am i so happy" comes out of nowhere, it's extremely vague whether he's talking to the reader as if they are questioning him or if he's wondering that about himself. the "because i know im ready" doesn't even answer the question that came out of nowhere, readiness has nothing to do with being happy??? this entire speech is so bullshitted together, all that without even my personal opinion that "maybe i was born ready" is just a bad line.

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

that is all i have for now, i am 100% making more parts to this because rhato is a hate-comfort comic that i like to read and scream at whenever i feel like it. also just a side note because i am aware that a lot of us do this, it makes me uncomfortable to threaten actual injury or death towards real people, even as a joke, so i would appreciate it if none of you reblogged or replied with that kinda stuff towards any of the rhato creators on this post (or any of my posts). hope you enjoyed if you read the whole way through, have a nice day!

[strigimorphaes]

The Good Old Days (1.7k, G)

Mads thinks back on a party.

In honor of today's race and matjemads, I am now going to post something I wrote for them. It was originally written for a collaborative fic at the L&C Discord, but real life being real life and there being many contributors, we never reached a point where it was quite ready to publish. But I really want my snippet to see the light of day, so I'm sorry if I'm breaking fandom etiquette, but it's been months and months and the moment is perfect after today's discussion of the 2013 party.

For context: Remco, Jonas and Mads are on a roadtrip through Europe.

.***.

“How do you expect me to stay awake all night to drive you to your race?” asks Remco.

“You could just talk,” Jonas says, still in the back seat. “As long as it’s not talking about what you’ve won. I don’t want to listen to you having a dick-measuring contest.” While Mads ponders how the words dick-measuring contest sound strange in Jonas’ voice, Jonas looks down at his phone. He’s texting someone. 

“I could try to convince you to come to World’s again,” Mads says. “You know you’d be allowed if you wanted to jump in last minute. We’d find a bike for you. I’ve got arguments.” 

“I said no already,” Jonas says, and looks at Remco like a man remembering deep suffering - which means something coming from a man who has made suffering his job. “It’s been a battle to make Mads let me say no.” 

“And the war isn’t over yet,” Mads cheerfully exclaims. “Come on. Another little date with Pogačar.” 

Jonas looks down at his phone and smiles as if there’s a joke Mads isn’t in on. 

Remco looks from Jonas to Mads and back. “Can we pick up snacks while we’re here?” 

It’s not a bad idea. Mads finds it hard to be cross at a German rest stop when they’re so much nicer than the average Danish gas station. So much more choice. Remco compares the nutritional content of protein bars while Jonas scans the headlines of the papers, perhaps testing if his high school German still lingers in his hindbrain. Mads takes his sweet time picking out a soda, then finds the others in the queue. “It’s like I’m back in the U21 category,” Mads muses. “Driving way too far with other riders you don’t always get along with, fucking with the stereo, raiding the Serways. Had some great fun. Some really shit days, too, but also some good times.” He turns to Jonas and adds, in Danish, “Du sku’ ha set det.” 

Not that there’s any point to nostalgia.

[...]

Back on the Autobahn, Jonas drives in silence for a little while before he seems to grow bored. He glances at Mads and asks, “What were the good days like?” 

Mads, who had been lost in his own thoughts, replies with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Back in the day - juniors, like you talked about earlier.” 

“It makes me feel old when you say it like that,” Mads mumbles. “Back in the day.” 

“You picked a bad sport if you don’t want to feel old,” Jonas says. “‘There’s, what, four years between you and Remco? In cycling-years, that’s a decade. You and me, we’re practically middle-aged already.” 

“But we get to see more of the world in one year than most people do in five - even if a lot of it is Serways.” Mads opens his soda and Jonas’, too, handing it over. “I got to see van der Poel drunk off his ass back in my junior years. That was one of the good days - hell, I’ve been teasing him about the stuff he did that night for ages. He was walking around under the influence with a parasol for some reason, and - hey, Remco, you’ve been training with him, haven’t you?” 

“A couple of rides when he was last in the area,” Remco says, a little pride in his voice at being casual acquaintances with the champion. “Do you not like him?” 

“Nah, it’s not like that. We text,” Mads says. “We’re not buddy-buddy, but we can talk. And he is how he is - it’s like how he rides, never really thinking.” 

“Now you are not doing him justice,” Remco cuts in. 

“Mathieu? There's nothing behind the eyes there. He just goes as long as there’s coal in the engine. Same thing in conversation, haven’t you noticed?” Mads turns back to Jonas and adds, “It’s why I like you. We’re both up against people with better engines, so we’ve got to be clever about it.” 

“Speaking of engines,” Jonas says. “There’s this little warning light here, Remco. Is that, uh, normal?” 

“It comes on all the time,” Remco says. “It’s just an issue with the sensors, I think.” 

“You should still get it looked at,” Mads comments, never one for letting a car be mistreated. It’ll probably be fine, though. And it’s not like there’s much they can do about it out here on the road anyways. 

Jonas seems to come to the same conclusion, though he’s definitely still nervous when he asks, “Mads, maybe you can just keep talking so I don’t get nervous about the light?” 

“Yeah, sure. Actually - why don’t we make it a competition? Everyone tells their best drunk story, the loser drives, and the winner gets something nice once we arrive in Poland. That can keep us all entertained without music and stop Jonas from being neurotic about the engine light.” 

“I don’t drink,” Remco says. “Not during the season, anyway. I won’t have much to share.” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I've heard you live like a monk. Make it any kind of story you want, then.” 

“Keep going with the van der Poel story,” Remco then says. “He’ll be one to beat in Zürich, after Pogačar.” 

“There’s not much more to it - he bothered other guys for most of the night, and then…” Mads takes a sip of his soda. Something artificial dissolves on his tongue like the ghost of a peach. He stares out the window at the trees next to the motorway and the fields of Germany. “I can only tell you the rest if you promise you won’t tell anybody, alright Remco? Jonas, I trust, but not you.” Mads points the neck of the bottle towards Remco, who shrugs, then makes a zip-gesture across his mouth. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” 

“Good,” Mads says. “So to set the scene, we’re in Firenze. A warm night in Italy. I’ve won a silver medal, which wasn't what I was hoping for, but anyway, the party’s in full swing. I’m going outside the club for fresh air after too much to drink when I see Mathieu is there, too. He has a parasol, God knows where he got it, and some mini-bottles of Italian liquor - I don't know where he got those either - and he asks what I'm up to. Asks me if I've got my silver medal with me, and then if I want one of these mini bottles of italian alcohol. I’m not in a state where I say no to free drinks, so I have one. He stands with me for a bit just talking in east and west about - I don't know, he's slurring his words a lot."

It's the truth, but there is also a little more to the memory that Mads keeps to himself. Mads couldn't make out the slurred words apart from something about how he should be back somewhere, probably with his team or coach or dad, but he remembers a glimpse of Mathieu's wide eyes telling him that whatever Mathieu said was not what he wanted to tell his fellow rider. Mathieu's hand on his while handing over the bottle. A thumb lingering too long, a curiosity of sorts.

"And then," Mads continues, "Mathieu takes a long look at the party before he just... walks away. Even though he’s the champ and everyone in that party wants to party with him. Okay, maybe some of the people in there didn’t like him, but most of them did. He walks away from the noise and I get worried he’s going to walk into traffic or something, because he’s drunk as hell.”

“So you follow,” Jonas says, bringing the car carefully around a bend in the road. 

“I follow,” Mads replies. “And he goes down to the water - there’s that river in Firenze. There are lamp posts on the side of the bridge. Mathieu is singing something to himself, and then he’s jumping up on the side of the bridge, and he grabs the lamp post and hangs off it like - like Singing in the Rain, even twirling a little.” Mads illustrates with his index finger. “He’s hanging over the water. The Italians look at us like we’re crazy, which we are, but I’m not stupid, so I shout to him that he needs to get fucking down from there or he’ll fall in and drown. He laughs at me, and then he jumps.” 

Mads takes another sip of the soda, finishing the bottle. 

“Into my arms,” he then says, to his listeners’ relief, “not the water. I don’t know what happened in his head, but to him, that was apparently the thing to do. When I caught him, I pretty much dropped him straight on the ground. Gave him a few blue marks. When I saw him the next time a year later, he said he didn’t remember it. But I did hold him bridal style there for a second.” 

Secretly, Mads finds it hard to believe that Mathieu doesn’t remember it. Mads was drunk, too, but he remembers the sound of his own words ringing out over the river - the first words being in the universal language, the rest still understandable to Mathieu though they were in Mads’ mother tongue - “Fucking idiot! Kom her! It’s time to go back.” 

He remembers Mathieu looking at him, his expression somewhere between elation and fear the way you only feel it when something very good has happened and opened up a new path into a new future, a future as vast as the dark over the river, all the lights gleaming in his too-wide eyes and a gaze saying neither of us know where we’re going. 

But they went back. A cool breeze sobered both of them up a little on the way to the party where Mads left Mathieu behind so they could both spend this precious time with people they actually liked. Mads remembers walking away with the feeling he’d done well; he remembers dancing some more, all those sweaty bodies around him and a rhythm pounding in his chest and the thought that this was like racing, being among these blurry streaks of color on the other side of exhaustion with ever-changing partners.

Mads remembers the taste of the liqueur: A strong lemon flavor followed by the acid burn inside his mouth where he had bitten his cheek earlier on. It lasted a long time. 

“Sometimes,” Mads says, “I think of him doing that stupid Singing-in-the-rain-twirl when he’s looking too smug on the podium.” 

And Jonas smiles at that. Mission accomplished. 

[rodolfoparras]

So in SSKTJL, the suicide squad gets infected with Fear Gas because of Batman

For context, Fear Gas is a gas created by Scarecrow or Johnathan Crane, and when inhaled, you live through your worst fears until worn off.

And Digger's worst fear is everyone leaving him behind, being unwanted and forgotten. In the scene, George talks to himself, saying they've probably already left him. Calling himself a loser and and a coward and shit. He sees "NOT WANTED" posters of himself hung up around

(I can't do this anymore, bro)

What if Reader's worst fear was watching all of his friends/teammates die and losing them all🥰

Running around trying to listen to Harley's advice (because she knows Scarecrow and the toxin) but he just keeps hearing his friends scream for help and their bodies everywhere but he's literally unable to help them, because they're not fucking real but it's scary asf

And once it's all over, Reader is all over Digger the rest of the night. They're the closest, so it's already not that weird, but he's literally not giving Digger a MOMENT of peace. a hand on that man the entire time, following him everywhere, fucking sleeps on top of him to try and keep him safe

Mumbles to him all night about being scared of losing him and how much he cares about him and Digger's just "🧍‍♂️wut?" Because he genuinely believes that despite working with the team, he's very easily disposable and they could all replace him but don't because of Waller

Reader ramping up his affection for Digger after that because he's not gonna let him think that shit??

Idk where I'm going with this but I love him so much. Just wanna play with his hair and kiss his face 😞

-🐧

Cw: tooth rotting fluff, x male reader

Okay but thinking about you being unable to calm down even though the gas has long stopped having effect, even though you’re back in your current reality with all your friends where they’re all very much alive and doing well but no matter what they say or do you just can’t calm down

It’s like you’re still stuck in that place, watching all your friends die in front of you without being able to do anything, and Digger being Digger starts joking around, telling the rest of the team how they should just knock you out to make sure you get to sleep through the night.

But his words turn into squeaks as you pull him into a bruising grip, his head shoved into your chest, and your arms locked in an iron grip around his waist.

Unintelligible sounds escape his lips as he tries to push you away from him but you don’t budge an inch, if anything you hold him tighter, nuzzling your face into his honey blonde locks and inhaling his scent, and for once you actually seem to relax.

“Uh hello big guy? cant breathe here,” the sound of Digger’s strained voice sends the whole squad into fits of laughter, with them even making comments about how you’re his responsibility for the night before splitting up to get some rest.

“Alright alright that’s enough” digger says as he finally breaks out of your embrace “jeez I know I’m a lovable guy but even that was a bit too much eh?” Digger says, clearly being sarcastic as he proceeds to prepare his make shift bed.

He doesn’t even get to lay down properly before you’re on top of him, your body weight pinning him in place an arm once again locked around his waist.

“God dammit,” Digger grunts out as his back meets the harsh impact of the ground. “What’s with you tonight eh? Gas scared you that bad? What did you even see?”

And maybe it’s the hint of concern in his voice or it’s the exhaustion from todays events, but you decide to tell you him what you saw earlier today.

Surprisingly enough, Digger listens intently to every word you have to say, at some point you think he’s fallen asleep or spaced out because it’s so unusual for him to not interrupt but when you look up, you see the very much focused look on his face as he continues to listen to you.

Once you’re done speaking you peer up at him - only to be met with the sight of his furrowed brows as he worries his bottom lip.

This time it’s your turn to ask what’s on his mind, digger doesn’t waste a second before he starts to explain, telling you how he can understand why you’d be worried about losing king shark- he was a great asset to the team - or Harley - she was a smart cookie or dead shot - look at his name! who wouldn’t want a guy like that on his team ? but he can’t understand why you’d be worried about losing him.

He doesn’t say it in a self deprecating way, but rather as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if he’s speaking of the way the sun is bound to rise tomorrow and maybe that hurts more than if he were to say it in a self deprecating tone.

You’re swift to rise up, knocking the air out of his lungs as you go on a tangent about how of course he’s an important part of the team, promptly mentioning the many times he’s saved your ass or saved another member of the team, the many times he’d been the reason as to why they succeeded in whatever mission you were doing.

By the time you’re done you’re all out of breath, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace hands still hanging in the air and staring wide eyed at the Aussie man.

“Alright alright big guy I get it,” he says, now sporting a blush on his face and avoiding your gaze while bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on the ol’ captain” Digger say with somewhat of a forced chuckle , and peers up at you beneath soft blonde lashes.

“Maybe I do,” you shrug.

“Wha-“

“Sleep digger, we have a long day tomorrow no?” You say, suddenly laying down again and pulling him into your arms before he can protest. You can hear him cursing under his breath but he doesn’t do anything to try and get out of your embrace. “Goodnight captain” you say with a smile on your face.

“Goodnight” he grumbles back as he tightens his hold on your waist.

[dangerous-disposition]

47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.” 💕💕

YES! I'm still working on asks from THIS ask game, and I absolutely will be happy to receive more (since I'm using these prompts as exercises to write short shit without context to overcome my pathological need to write So Much Context)

[ NOW ON AO3 ]

There was something distinctly heartbreaking about playing wingman for the guy who made you believe in the entire concept of soulmates, Eddie thinks as he leans against the trunk of Steve Harrington's Beemer. It's not even that he thinks they're soulmates, but what the dude has with Robin is really convincing. And maybe Eddie is pretty sure Steve is his soulmate, even platonically, even if that thought makes his pining ass want to vomit.

He refuses to pine after a straight man for eternity, and yet...

What's stupid is that Eddie is a shit wingman, so it doesn't even make sense that Steve keeps taking him out with him to bars and shit. Half the women that wanted to even approach Steve were afraid of Eddie, and the other half were fucking mean to him which lost Steve's favour immediately which... hey, Eddie couldn't complain too much about that.

But still, that meant that Steve was striking out every single time and Eddie was feeling bad about it because he was happy about it. He got to spend a whole evening with Steve and sometimes they would spend the night together because Eddie's place was closer and Steve was too tired to drive all the way home. Eddie could pretend this was a real date, that Steve Harrington was dating him.

Jesus H. Christ, he was pathetic.

Steve sighs next to him. "Why is this so hard?" he asks, and at Eddie's questioning look, Steve elaborates, "Dating, getting laid, whatever you wanna call it?"

Eddie huffs a laugh, and shrugs. "Well, I mean, I think I've got it worse in that department, Stevie," he mutters, taking a drag of his cigarette. Steve's known about him being gay for months now, which makes it even more wild that the man still shared a bed with him and took him out to bars almost every Friday night. Tossing his cigarette onto the asphalt and stubbing it out with his boot, Eddie asks, "What are you even looking for?"

Steve pauses, staring at the ground. "Someone who makes me happy, who gets me, who wants to be with me, the real me, y'know?" he asks without even looking at Eddie, which is good because Eddie's sure the way his heart was breaking would be visible from fucking outer space.

Me, that's me, Stevie. Choose me. That's what Eddie wants to say, to shout and scream and even stomp his feet a bit because it's not fucking fair. He's all those things and more and he wanted to be that for Steve.

"Think you might be putting too high of standards too early on these poor girls, Stevie," Eddie laughs instead, grinning crookedly over at Steve and stopping short at the intense gaze being leveled back at him.

"See, that's the thing, Eds. I'm starting to think I've been looking for that in all the wrong places," Steve says seriously, shifting so he's standing in front of Eddie.

And Eddie is sure he's dreaming. He's actually fast asleep and he's going to wake up literally any second and this was all just some terrible dream thought up by his awful, gay, pining, stupid brain. Because it actually sounds like Steve, the love of Eddie's life, is about to confess something huge to him.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie croaks out before clearing his throat, glancing at Steve's lips before meeting his eyes.

"I've always had these big dreams about my life, what it'd look like if I wanted to be happy, and before I always thought of these grand things that involve a wife and a whole pack of kids," Steve says and Eddie feels his already shattered heart break even more.

Eddie manages to laugh, though, even if what he really wants is to crawl into bed and cry. "Okay, so now you're raising the bar even higher on these poor girls?" Eddie asks, shoving Steve's shoulder with his fist.

Steve isn't swayed. "You don't get it, Eds, that's not what I want anymore," he says, running his hands back through his hair. "That isn't what I imagine when I think about being happy."

"Then what do you imagine?" Eddie asks because, apparently, he's a huge fucking masochist.

"Eds... you're really going to make me say it out loud?" Steve asks, almost teasingly, and then he steps just a little bit closer.

Eddie's heart stops, once again struck by how not real this has to be. "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to say it with your outside voice, Stevie," Eddie says. "I'm not a mind reader."

Steve sighs heavily and puts his hands on his hips as he visibly considers his next words carefully. Something comes over his expression that takes Eddie's breath away, something fierce and brave and beautiful, and now the full force of it was turning on him when Steve's eyes meet his.

"When I picture myself happy," Steve starts, stepping close enough that the heat radiating off of him begins to warm Eddie's chilled skin. Steve lifts a hand to cup Eddie's jaw as he says, "It's with you, Eds."

Eddie blinks owlishly at Steve. "What?"

"I think I'm--I've been into you for months, and when you came out to me I got so hopeful, like I actually maybe stood a chance, which is obviously stupid. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you're into me but still," Steve rambles a bit as Eddie tries to form a coherent thought. Steve chews on his bottom lip and asks, "Eds? What do you--is this, like, okay?"

Eddie slaps himself in the face, just hard enough to sting, and Steve jumps.

"Eddie, what the hell?" Steve asks, bewildered.

"Sorry, just checking that I'm not dreaming. Pinching wouldn't've been enough to wake me up from a dream this good," Eddie breathes, twisting his hand in the front of Steve's polo and pulling him close. "You mean that, Stevie? You want me?"

"More than I've wanted anything in my life," Steve confesses easily, and he stumbles when Eddie gently shoves him back.

"Then take me home and we can make out about it in private, yeah?" Eddie suggests, grinning as he scrambles to get into the passenger seat of the Beemer.

When Steve gets into the car, he's grinning, and Eddie leans across the center console. "One kiss for the road?" he asks, batting his lashes up at Steve.

"Absolutely," Steve agrees, and then their mouths slotted together perfectly, like they were made to be kissing each other all along.

And yeah, Eddie was really starting to believe in soulmates actually...

Thank you again for sending me this ask!!! Send me more of these fun prompts? Also, if you like my writing, please consider checking out writing blog -> @gerrystamour

[weirdmageddon]

yesterday i wrote a scene where jade wasnt a plot device and was left the hell alone in A6A5 because this being dave and jade’s last proper conversation in years made me sad and i wanted to see them reunite properly. i mixed a bit of narration in too even though it was rare around this point in the comic but its just to paint a better picture. also i wouldnt mind feedback on character voice (it’s important to me that the dialogue sounds believable)

[3 years are over, everyone is in the new session. The prospit ship is on LOMAX, as is everyone who arrived on the meteor, safely warped by Jade onto LOMAX as well. Jade has banished B2 Jack to the Furthest Ring already. She hasn't seen her friends in 3 years, not to mention she never met the trolls in person yet.]

[Jade teleports to LOMAX where John was talking with the meteor crew. Her eyes widen when she sees the trolls, giving everyone a greeting. Jade waves to the trolls.]

You’ll have time to catch up with them later. First you want to reconvene with Rose and Dave.

> ==>

Dave... Oh my god! DAVE!!! That’s right! The last time you saw him, he died in your arms after Jack redirected the bullets from your gun into his body!

JADE: dave!!!! DAVE: hey DAVE: this has been three years coming hasnt it DAVE: cmere

> ==>

[Dave hugs Jade with a slight grin on face. He notices her… sniffing him?? but doesn’t even bother to question it.]

JADE: it is so nice to hold your body when its not a corpse :) DAVE: ok DAVE: weird thing to say DAVE: actually who am i kidding who gives a shit DAVE: i almost forgot how much i missed the enigmatic riddlefuckery that is your phrasing DAVE: fortunately i have context for this so i know what youre saying DAVE: humor me for a sec and imagine that i didnt DAVE: but first DAVE: are those dog ears JADE: yes! i am part dog now JADE: because i prototyped my dreamself with becsprite JADE: jadesprite became part of me! and so did her doggy traits from bec DAVE: got it DAVE: oh yeah john mentioned that on the back of his dumb poster inside that bucket that appeared out of thin air DAVE: right before we had to haul ass out of there before jack caught up to us DAVE: karkat had a complete fucking meltdown over that btw i wish you couldve seen it DAVE: damn it feels like so long ago now JADE: heheheh i remember JADE: john realized it at the last second but it was too late! DAVE: of course it was johns idea only he could do something that gooberish DAVE: you know what this means though JADE: yup!! woof woof DAVE: it means youve done it harley DAVE: youve finally done it god damn it DAVE: the evolution of humankind is finally upon us DAVE: the scientists said it would never happen in our lifetime DAVE: but look what we have here DAVE: before me stands mans first legitimate furry subspecies DAVE: homo canis DAVE: as the name implies theyre gay as fuck btw DAVE: its too bad all those scientists are dead and cant witness this phylogenetic breakthrough DAVE: rip to the science community yall wouldve lost your collective shit DAVE: hey jade lets pour one out for the science community for being real ones

> ==>

You are still nestled into Dave’s shoulder. He’s taken a sort of protective position over you. Your perceptive barkbeast ears can hear his formerly bullet-riddled heart beating a mile a minute with the regularity of quartz beneath his time-branded pajamas, all the while he continues to ramble to you about certifiably dumb shit. You can tell Dave is psyched to see you again, even if he expresses it in his OWN bizarre way, which means extended metaphors and topical tangents. What a hypocrite, calling YOUR phrasing perplexing! You sure missed this guy.

You realize you started tuning him out while thinking about all this.

DAVE: jade JADE: umm homo is the species name JADE: so wouldnt that mean were all gay? :p DAVE: yeah that sounds about right DAVE: anyway enough of this bullshit

> ==>

[Dave motions to retract his arms since he doesn’t want it to get too weird, but Jade squeezes tighter. Dave immediately yields to the movement]

DAVE: jesus wow ok DAVE: really happy to see you too DAVE: like if you had a tail it would be wagging so forcefully youd be knocking over all the fucking furnishings in the room DAVE: just slapping it so hard on the owners thigh that it feels like theyre being flogged DAVE: talk about getting bitch slapped JADE: :D DAVE: so howve you been JADE: really really excited to see you guys all again!!! JADE: and to meet the trolls! DAVE: yeah theyre pretty weird DAVE: and im still not used to it DAVE: but it gets more manageable the longer youre around them DAVE: by the way JADE: ?

> ==>

DAVE: sorry you had to go through that JADE: through what? DAVE: seeing me die and stuff again DAVE: except that time right in front of you JADE: .... DAVE: when we were gathering up all those frogs i knew jack was going to appear DAVE: i was waiting and waiting to play it out DAVE: mentally rehearsing my fucking torso getting turned into swiss cheese and knowing you would have to watch on top of it DAVE: i had to make sure it happened to protect the integrity of the alpha timeline DAVE: but if you knew this was going to happen you wouldve tried to prevent it and created a doomed one DAVE: and so i didnt say anything DAVE: i couldnt DAVE: so DAVE: sorry for putting you through that JADE: oh..... JADE: dave D: JADE: well im here JADE: if you ever want to talk about it DAVE: its cool DAVE: you just deserve to know what happened there DAVE: but thanks DAVE: so am i JADE: yeah i know JADE: i guess i should be glad you did that then... JADE: even though i was freaking out when it happened ._. JADE: otherwise you wouldnt be here will us now dressed in your red god tier time pajamas DAVE: yeah these magical rags really are comfortable arent they DAVE: and they stay like perma clean JADE: they are! i would wear mine over and over for days on end JADE: id take a nice shower and put it right back on JADE: and you know how much i love cycling my outfits through my wardrobifier JADE: by the way dave your cape is sooo cool! :o DAVE: thanks DAVE: yeah i love it its hella soft DAVE: its like ive got a portable snuggle blanket with me in case i ever need to drop to the floor like a tired sack of shit and get my snooze on DAVE: ive got a permanent personal reservation at club bed featuring dj pillow and mc blanky JADE: heheheh JADE: can i touch your cape? DAVE: of course go nuts JADE: yaaaay!!

[drenix004]

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 part2

Valeria Garza Headcanons

Part 1 here

Note: I plan to do headcanons of Valeria as chapters of Valeria's fanfic are published! besides, I also want to do the same with 141, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Valeria,Horangi and koning in different situations and contexts, especially if they are shapeshifters or hybrids feel free to ask for a headcanon, one shot or drable, I'll be happy to do it! And they'll be all soft, comforting and light angsty themes! Life is already too cruel and hard to make them suffer here too :)

Sadly there will be no smut or nsfw, I'm really bad at writing that kind of content, sorry. But, there will be slight superficial mentions of that as a reward.

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Summary: You work at the bar of a night bar in Las Almas, you knew the menu backwards and forwards so you had a certain fame. One day you draw the attention of a certain narco when you kicked an idiot out of the establishment just as the armored van was passing by, not only did you draw attention because of the commotion, but also because not a sound came out of your mouth, not a whimper, curse or insult, nothing. Just a death stare at the man.

━━━━━━━━》❈《 ━━━━━━━

Valeria has always had women at her disposal, it was nothing more than something carnal, just physical. I had never had any other contact than that with people of the same sex.

●Until you came, you opened the forbidden door that The Nameless One kept in the depths of his being; their feelings.

●You reached to the depths of his being without realizing it, you were not a one-night stand. You are more than that to The Nameless.

●Now the consequences had to be paid.

●Valeria didn't let you go when you had already walked through that damn door, oh no.

● That's not how the game was played and Valeria was very clear about it, since you opened her forbidden place you were doomed.

 ● You were hers, as well as the consequences of having fallen in love with her to the point of insanity if possible.

●You calmed her inner demons, but you also teased them if she didn't have you around.

●Same as now.

●His office was a shit after a fit of rage, they hadn't heard from you for more than three days.

● Many bad scenarios had been generated in his head, did the rival cartel kidnap you?

●That couldn't be possible, even among criminals there was a code: never mess with one's family or partner. Something that could be very simple, but that was essential to avoid generating conflicts beyond the territory or the product.

 ●Although you were not Valeria's official partner, by now she had made it clear that she was very interested in you. 

 Valeria was getting tired after searching with no results, so she decides to investigate everything about you. She didn't want to do it because she wanted to respect your privacy, but that had already moved to another level.

●She found out that the name you gave her wasn't your real name, so she couldn't find you that easily... With your real name he was able to access your credit card records, he realized that you did not stay in the same place for more than two days in inns or small hotels.

 . ●Valeria recognized that pattern, you were running away. But what were you running from? It couldn't be her because she never gave you a reason to do it.

The more I researched about you, the more things came to light; you were three years younger than Valeria, you had gardening experience, years ago you had been admitted several times to the emergency room for assault injuries, but they never mentioned a neck injury.

●That fact became interesting to her, Valeria had noticed the scar on your neck that you tried to hide with chokers.

Valeria went to every hotel and inn you were in, looked at the security footage, and then left without saying a word. He had to admit that you were cunning, a challenge he liked.

●Unknowingly, you entered a hunting game, where you are the prey and Valeria was the hunter.

●Valeria followed your steps closely, the chase becoming more and more exciting, the beast within her moving violently every time it got closer and closer.

●But she was aware that she wasn't the only one chasing you, there was a man who was also looking for you; your brother. The man had complaints of domestic violence, and also had an arrest warrant and a restraining order.

●Valeria understood why you were running away, you were afraid that your brother would hurt you again. that's why you ended up in Las Almas.

●Valeria would help you escape your brother's clutches... to end up in his.

● Valeria was no saint, but at least her claws would be more careful and gentler than your brother's. She could not and would not change what she already was, but she could take care of you in his darkness. ●When she knew where you were, she left immediately. Your brother had also found your whereabouts.

●It was a race against the clock, who would get there first? ●Which demon would get to you first?

●You were the ray of light that the darkness wanted out of selfishness, to envelop you completely so that you could not escape, you were its complement… because without light there is no darkness.

Part3?

I had planned to upload this for hallowen, but I couldn't because I had an anxious crisis :) why do I feel this looks more like a one shot than a headcanon? anyway I liked how it turned out, I hope you do too. likes and reblogs are much appreciated!

[psychopunky]

Bad break alternative ending when???

Alternative ending!? You get your ambiguous ending and you like it.

However I did write a more ambiguous ending before changing it.

Anyway spoilers for ‘Bad Break’ below.

(You can see how different my writing is compared to now)

Context needed: Reader was retreating three books but all three fell under the bed.

Wait no.

There's no way they would just let a man who killed so many walk free on the streets. With reluctance you dug through the paper pile again. Finding a newspaper from 1999 a year before you moved to Arizona.

The first page didn’t have anything too important on it. The name of the newspaper had changed to the Jacksonville Daily. You kept going through it to see what was so important about it. Then near the middle there was a small article. It has a small smiley face drawn in pen by the title.

‘Miracle Doctor Cures All.’

‘A Local doctor who started less than a year ago at the local mental institution claims to cure all. Doctor Michael Samuel claims he can cure the worst case patients with his new methods. When asked to explain his methods Dr. Samuel declined saying it was a well guarded secret. The Doctor however has said that several of the institution's most difficult patients had been going through said treatments. They had shown great progress, even a few being granted release by the new governor. Governor Adam’s hopes to show that the Arizona medical system is the top-’

There was a loud ringing that made you scream. Dropping the newspaper in a panic you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket as it continued to ring. You ripped it out of your pocket at lightning speed.

“Hello?!” You sounded out of breath but your voice cracked at the same time.

“Whoa what's wrong? You’ve been gone for over an hour you know.” Dude's voice came through the phone clear as day. You looked wide-eyed at everything around you. The box with the sweater and journal. The newspapers strewn about. The newspaper clipping that scattered over the floor.

You felt like he knew. Like he would know you found all of this. Would you end up like Tiffany? Was anything he did actually real? What if he was a ticking time bomb?

There were so many questions. There was too much evidence to just ignore this. You couldn’t run from this or just pretend it wasn’t real.

“Um Hello? You’re kinda worrying me with the silence.” Dude spoke again. The phone was still pressed to your ear. You let out a shaky breath trying to speak up.

“Sorry I’m here.” Your voice was still shaking the distress you felt was leaking through. You heard movement on the other end of the phone like Dude was getting up.

“Where are you? You don’t sound good.” Shit you can’t let him know you found this. It had been poorly hidden but hidden nonetheless. “U-Um I’m at the Lucky Ganesh just got held up looking for the books.” Dude hummed into the phone in response. He was quiet for a few moments but you heard the sound of clothes ruffling.

“I’ll meet you there, just wait for me.” In a panic you started shoving everything back into the cardboard box. “Ok see you!” Hanging up the phone immediately you shoved it back into your pocket. You got everything back in the box, closing it up. Picking it up and putting it back in the space under the bed. Next the newspaper followed.

You got everything back and found the broken part of the bed. A piece of wood that had snapped out of place. You pulled the mattress back as best as you could hiding the fact the bed was broken. Looking around on the floor you found two books that you had dropped. Scoping them up you ran out of trailer.

Just wanting to put as much distances between yourself and this fucked up reality as you could. You made it to the Lucky Ganesh out of breath and sweating. Your eyes were no longer watery instead sweat had built up on your brow. The books clutched in one arm as you waited outside.

You didn’t know what to do or how to act. The man you are going to marry is a mass murderer who got out of a mental hospital because some governor wanted to show off. What's to stop him from killing again? Was he even really cured?

Someone grabbed your shoulder making you jump. You dropped your books in a panic as you whipped around. Dude stood behind you with a frown on his face. He pulled his hand back holding it up.

“It's just me.” Normally those words would comfort you but as you looked at Dude you didn’t know how to feel. He was not the young man in those photos. Instead gray hair and wrinkles were his more pronounced features now. Not long hair with a dead stare. “You look sick.” Dude commented, reaching out slowly before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Alright come on I don’t need you getting sick on me.” Dude moved his hand away from your forehead. Bending over he picked up your dropped books. Handing them back to you. You took them without a word. Dude reached out, taking your hand in his. He pulled on your hand a little to get you moving. Silently you followed Dude along heading back to your shared home.

As you walked you couldn’t help but think. Weren't there three books?

[ronearoundblindly]

A, K, & Z for my rare grimy man? 🥺

*While I have seen Snowpiercer a few times, I don't know the whole culture of the train thoroughly, so let's just say Curtis is A) really used to crowded spaces with no privacy, B) somewhere cold as hell, and C) still has very little, i.e. not a bunch of different clothes or idk soap and shit...

Prompts are from this dirty ask game, and they do get somewhat graphic (am I considered a hoe yet? i've written 18 of these suckers). MINORS DNI. You know I love you, you know I'll create content for you, but this isn't it! You want the Light Masterlist.

A - Alone Time

I believe Curtis's exact words would be "what fucking alone time?" but, sure, on the super rare occasion he gets to touch himself, here's how it goes.

He doesn't have access to porn. It's all imagination at this point.

His living space is so over-stuffed with people in bunks who, ya know, live their lives as best they can and so, yup, they have sex in those bunks and almost everyone can hear them. He can use those sounds in his imagination. Some are better than others.

What he imagines, though, is pure escapism.

He pictures someone soft and clean, they smell good, and they take all the time in the world just to look him in the eye when they touch him. There are no toys, just his own hands. He uses both. A recurring fantasy is (while he uses his weaker hand to jack off) teaching some innocent, sweet thing how to touch him. Gets him going, makes him a little wild to think about. Smidge of a corruption kink, this Curtis, but not in a mean way.

He wants someone all his own. Everything is shared and sparse here. He dreams of possessing someone, body and soul, because then they're his, unlike reality.

K - Kissing

Curtis may be desperate for some lovin' but he isn't a bully. This man hardly believes you're his, so he is completely adoring and slow. He wants to know what every possible way to touch you feels like. He holds your chin or cups your face to kiss you, softly, feather-light to start. You taste, smell, feel, and sound real; it's overwhelming and addictive.

He starts this slowly every single time you two kiss. Doesn't matter how nasty the fucking was the night before. Doesn't matter his mood. He really fucking likes these sweet, innocent kisses where you choose to go further, to pull him closer, to accept him into your body. Huge turn on for him.

(🥵 oh shit, I got myself, sweating now, give me a sec, yikes.)

There are some nights where those soft kisses are all he wants and needs in the world. Just the comfort and the escape of your little bubble of love is enough to soothe him to sleep, which is in and of itself a miracle. He's so tired of living on edge all the time...

Z - Zones

For warmth, as much of his (and your) body is covered at all times as much as possible. No one is naked during sex, not entirely. There aren't thick enough blankets to warrant that, and he's not going to lose a toe to frostbite simply to get his cock warmed. That's a bad trade-off. No deal.

Because of that, however, Curtis finds you touching those non-essential-to-sex-places highly erotic. There is no reason for you to have your bare hands way up by his shoulder blades. Sounds bizarre out of context, but he goes fucking berserk when you slither your grasp under his layers of shirts and dig your nails in just a bit. He loves that more than a goddamn blowjob, honestly.

Similarly, most of the back of him down to his thighs, at least half of his legs, and his feet have remained untouched by any human save himself since he was a kid. When his shitty, fourth-hand boots gave him horrible blisters, you scrounged up a bowl of warm water and washed his feet.

He fucking cried, and you thought it was because he was in pain. He's just never felt so loved and cared for in his miserable life. He still gets choked up thinking about that. He holds you that much tighter each time he remembers.

What areas does he love on you? Oh fuck, does he have to choose?

He can't possibly pick just one or two places. You're just all soft and all sensual. Nope, he can't pick favorites. He just can't. Although...one of your nipples seems more sensitive than the other, so maybe that? But he's not gonna give up any other bits! You can't make him. He will fucking fight for all of you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh, hell, here comes another blorbo...

*faints*

[alpacalypse141]

Chaos duo Swagger and Gromsko COD Headcanons

Warning: None

In the beginning everyone mispronounced Swagger original call sign all the time. After the third time he quickly give up correcting people and stick with it. They call him Swagger because it's easier to pronounce and the closest thing in speech they can say.

When Gromsko introduced himself for the first time after hearing his first and last name they didn't let him finish and say "You're Gromsko from now on." and it wasn't negotiable so no one know why sometimes Swagger call Gromsko "Kostek" or "Bones"

His colleagues from Grom knowing Swagger past in France given him a nickname "Szwagier" (Brother-in-law) and they treated him as one.

The deeper, more symbolic meaning behind it is that after he came back to Poland from France he reunited not only with his people but with Poland itself. Not only a piece of land but a mother, lover and a soulmate. Accepting this nickname he made peace with himself and the way of life in Poland.

He's new brothers not only welcomed him with bread and salt and additional vodka but made sure he felt at home introducing him to various traditions he missed during his stay in France. Some of them were shocking and most left him hungover but overall he was happy knowing he finally belong somewhere.

The funnier version is that one night out with the team he was so drunk he flirted with not only his girl friends from unit but with Gromsko who wore a pink wig thinking he's a girl too. At the end of the night he even proposed to him. He's still denying it to this day. When Swagger gets to annoying instead of typical shut up Gomsko call him his husband with a smirk on his face and it always work.

Of course when Gromsko found out what they call him in english he laughed at it earning a punch in the vaccine but it didn't prevent him from telling his friends in Grom so they can tease him a little too.

Whatever they meet Gromsko make sure he doesn't forget his language so he only speak to him in Polish earning weird looks from people that don't understand. Of course they make fun of them speaking shit that doesn't make sense and sounds like gibberish to others. They even question if it's real language. They will never know.

Gromsko often fell urge to take care of Swagger. After all "All Poles are one family" and he take it very seriously. Even when he know Swagger is very talented and capable soldier he can't help but to think he still need guidance in the Polish ways called "*sztuka kombinowania" that make them unexpected and unpredictable.

From Swagger perspective he's the one that's voice of reason in this duo and say "What the fuck, bro?!" when Gromsko tell him his another brilliant idea "I know I'm a genius! Anyway next we will go to the kitchen and steal all...""There's MORE?!""YES!" "This is the most surreal and idiotic plan I have ever heard from you this week and it's only monday" "Shut up and listen." "..." "Trust me we're Polish it will work." is there something more beautiful than brothers love?

*Sztuka Kombinowania - The art of (It's hard to translate English doesn't have this word. It's kind of depending on the context it's meaning is to coming up with solutions to the various problems or how to do something in unique way. Can be good or bad thing)

If someone will be interested in reading more I will make part 2 were I'll tell more about how Gromsko got his call sign and a few story of their colleagues from Grom.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

I need to know. I do.

So people... Genuinely believe... The AI generated looking account of being Shelby's cousin is real?

For context someone who said they were Shelby's cousin blames shelby for the abuse, said she mad them cry and that she did it to herself. And that she was yelling at Wilbur and to support Wilbur.

Shelby commented on it saying that she only had one cousins and it clearly wasn't them.

Now people are questioning why "she got so defensive" to a fan account.

Context over.

All I have to say is... BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?-

Your going to tell me, WITH CONFIDENCE Shelby, her friends and her family don't know who own cousin is?

Your going to tell me that everything Shelby's said doesn't line up? "he had hole in his walls" Fundy did a vlog with Wilbur that showed IN THE VIDEOS that Wilbur did indeed have holes in his walls. Fundy even said it looked gross.

"he was violent" over the last couple years. Not now. YEARS. Content creator and non-content creator have said be was a violent man.

Minx said he was violent but was written off as an alcoholic.

Bilzo was written off as a small content creator.

Niki was told she should THANK HIM because he made her.

Other were seen as clout-chasers.

And it took one, mentally stable and popular person to be like "Hey he's a bad guy" for people to go back and look huh.. Maybe he is bad.

There are people who already knew and were being validated. People who were annoyed because they said there piece and got shit for it and now had people back-tracking when it was too late.

Heck even Scott Smajor said Live on stream that he'd obliviously knew longer then anyone else and that's why Wilbur was no longer in MCC videos.

And suddenly your like, "she's getting a bit defensive isn't she?" Well yeah.

She's human.

That's like telling someone, "your family didn't actually get hurt", "they did. You know they did" then them being like "OMG THEY'RE SINGLING ME OUT THIS PROVES THEY'RE LYING!"

Do you know how stupid that sounds when you write it out. And then to assume that no one talked to anyone in private about anything?

Do you really think that Wilbur's friends AND random people would have co-ordinate an attack on him for like 3-5 years straight?

And this is straight the Emma situation. People are seeing that you can create a "successful" allegations using AI and have younger audiences BELIEVE IT.

You assume this allegation is true but don't assume that someone could be using AI to write that (because it was screenshot of text with a popular image of Wilbur in the background) because they like him?

Did you not assume that maybe... Just maybe, someone would (like Emma) make up some random BS for personal gain and then exploit it?

Did you not assume that with an Apology come with the acknowledgement that you did those things? Because Wilbur didn't deny it. He expressed he did do it actually, he just did a terrible job of justify it.

Did your assumption not lead you to the conclusion that text is easier to fake then a real person with real tears telling you?

Did you not assume that it's become a trend to fake things for clout?

Did you not look back and go "but there was tons of evidence BEFORE shelby said anything"?

Did you not go back and think, shelby's a person and she's allowed to be upset. She also knows her own family and probably know the social media account that her family uses, so it can't certainly be that person?

Or do you have your values so far up, that you cannot see AI when its right in front of you.

If you can't see one of these many things, then either you need to think about yourself and do some soul searching or your genuinely deluded.

There was even a comment say it looks like an AI generated response, and guess what? When I went back to take a ss of it for this post the user had suddenly been reported and suddenly couldn't use there account.

Weird right?

Also it you're a "oh I'm neutral on the matter. I don't support anyone" person. I hope you seek a conclusion because you clearly can't see the one in front of you.

And to the "But what if was really?" or "support Wilbur" squad. Refer to all previous points and if you still have this opinion, I kindly ask you to leave. Touch grass. Go back to school. And to hopefully better yourself as a person.

[caubool]

AnE Fic WIP

Context: It’s an adult Bonrin AU mission fic where angels are displeased with the progress in the fight against Satan and decide to intervene with their world-ending trumpets. I’ve been slowly chipping away at this over the past week and I wanted to post a short snippet of what I’ve got so far!

Standing on a raised platform and talking with a few other exorcists was Yukio, looking composed as usual, though there was a crease of discomfort between his brows.

“OY! YUKIO!” Rin called out. His brother jolted at the volume, but something about his face eased at their approach. Once they were close enough to talk, Rin started. “Do you know what this is all about? A secret society announcing themselves? Satan showing up somewhere?”

Yukio’s face did that thing it always did when he couldn’t decide if he should be disappointed or fuming mad. He sighed. “Neither, actually. It’s something far, far worse.”

“Which is?” Bon asked.

“Our…sponsor is less than happy with us right now.”

“Sponsor?” Rin scratched between his horns. “You mean the Vatican?”

Yukio’s face twisted up further into his disappointed-rage-y-ness. “Higher than that.”

Bon sucked in air sharply through his teeth but Rin just frowned. “What the hell is higher than the Vatican? It’s the highest thing we got other than-“ it hits him like a bolt through a pigeon’s wing. “No way. God’s mad at us?”

His brother nodded, once.

Holy shit. Rin had the sudden feeling of being five again and seeing Father Fujimoto walking in on a giant mess in the kitchen. Of the first few nights after waking up his demon heart and whispering prayers for his dad’s safe passage to heaven and wondering if his new status as hellspawn tainted the message.

“What-“ his voice is weaker than he’d like, “what did we do?”

Bon had started muttering under his breath, it sounded like one of his sutras but Rin couldn’t be sure. Yukio glanced back at the other exorcists on the platform and grimaced. “We…don’t know yet. Some representatives are coming down to speak with us. That’s why we’re gathering everybody here. All goes well…maybe this will be a straightforward fix.”

Representatives…no way. “You mean angels? Like- like real- real actual- angels? Coming here?” His brother nodded again, and Rin felt a little faint. He’d long gotten over his wariness around particularly gung-ho exorcists, but with angels…he can practically taste the ozone already from how hard they’re definitely going to smite him. ‘Cause- obviously, right? He’s got a neon sign on his soul that says CHILD OF SATAN—PLEASE KILL ME WITH FIRE. There’s no way literal actual angels aren’t going to want to hedge their bets and off the antichrist, right?

He turned to Bon and hoped his tail wasn’t lashing too hard. “I mean- I was baptized so like- I’m gonna be fine, right? Satan fire can’t burn away my baptism or anything, right? I go to confession! Regularly! And- and- and the Eucharist! I eat it! I eat it super reverently and shit!”

Bon’s eyes were still kind of unfocused but he set his jaw and laid one heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, calm down. God’s mad at all of us. Not just you.”

Rin gives up the battle of nerves and snatches up his tail to toy with the end of it. “It’s not too late to convert to Buddhism, is it?” He asked, voice hoarse.

That earned him a bonk on the head from Suguro but there’s no heat in it and it did help stop his spiralling thoughts. Angels…in True Cross…it was like the set up to a bad joke.

[comicaurora]

there's a tl;dr at the end if you're a coward who's too scared to read my glorious essay

wassup my name is destruktow i got in an argument with tumblr user flishthedragon (over discord) on the topic of aurora being an isekai (we were watching anime (they made me watch serial experiment lain (it was decent but i am too stupid for it)) and i brought up isekai) and i am convinced you bastards in the notes of when they posted my ramblings have no clue what an isekai is because an isekai is not defined by said isekai guy previously existing in the "real" world (despite that making up the majority of isekai stories) and let me tell you that i Have Not read past like the big robot thing (despite tumblr user flishthedragon being very adamant that i do so) so i have no clue if this still holds up to canon but as of right now we have no confirmation as to where jeffrey (canon name kendal i think but i call him jeffrey due to him looking like a jeffrey) originated from outside of "yeah jeffrey is like. this dude's empty body becoming sentient" which is bullshit so even by the bad definition everyone in the notes was pushing it's still not confirmed to not be an isekai and

*i pause to take a breath. as i breathe, you glance at my shirt. it has an image of popular comic strip character Garfield along with his adopted sibling/punching bag Odie and sugar daddy Jon Arbuckle. you appreciate said shirt*

also is space jam an isekai? it's absolutely an isekai dude lmao i love space jam that movie's great

okay back on topic so isekai originates from ancient japanese literature such as the story of Urashima Tarō, fisherman guy who saved a turtle and got to go to fishland for a week (my apologies to the urashima tarō fans out there my only exposure to this man is that they put him in battle cats and that was pretty cool, he's a decent black/angel tank that manages to not be outclassed by ramen and nono) and holy shit look at that you don't have to die to be isekai (no one was saying this but at least two of you were thinking it don't lie) and while reincarnation stories are not inherently isekai they can be viewed as isekai stories in certain contexts and those stay in the same world that's crazy

omniscient reader is also an isekai btw (if you finish it it's actually not but if you don't read like 500 chapters you can't prove me wrong and if you do i get someone to talk to about omniscient reader)

so obviously jeffrey exists (was summoned (technically)) for the purposes of getting vaush (that's not his name but it sounds like vaush and i used to be a vaush fan so we're going with it)'s soul back (has a goal given to him by a god) and he gets a companion (whether she is hot or not may depend on your taste and/or sexuality. me personally she is not hot) and he has big fucked up powers (real) BUT he keeps the memories of the previous host! wow! but screw you that's also an isekai thing i'm reading trash of the count's family and it does that (you suck stop typing stop trying to disprove me it won't work) and his existence prior, as i have mentioned, is disputable (he may or may not have existed. retaining your memories from previous life is not necessary) and his journey is fucking identical to various other isekai franchises you learn how shit works alongside him that's how isekai works you doubters in the notes

tl;dr: you can't prove it's not an isekai (author please do not confirm/deny it becomes much less funny if you do so) and it's infinitely easier to think of it as a typical isekai with all the isekai tropes so gg ez i win