#marcy is so done with them at this point

[hoperays-song]

Darius and Harry Hedacanons

Darius had no fucking clue they were dating for the first three months of the their relationship. Harry has not dropped it since.

Harry's younger siblings make fun of him for his choice in partner every time they call.

Harry has a 10 step skincare routine... Darius just throws water on his face an calls it a day. Harry is horrified by this.

Neither of them can cook for shit, leading to them constantly going out to eat.

Marcy technically introduced both of them since they were both her clients and looking for roommates. Judging by the amount of trouble they now cause her, she probably regrets it.

Very much the definition of "while this one has no clue what they're doing, the other one is so, so, so much worse".

While they both can drive, Harry refuses to let Darius do so out of fear for both their safety (smart move Harry).

Harry is the only known person who can read Darius's handwriting.

Arguments between the two typically end up with Darius yelling in Standard Tibetan and Harry yelling in Swahili and end shortly after, as neither of them can understand what the other is saying. Though, they do translate it after they've both cooled down.

They are both night owls and are rarely up before 10am. Which is fine with Harry's night gigs. Darius's jobs... not so much most of the time.

A lot of time they will wear each other's clothes without realizing til they get to their respective works and figuring out their shirt is either too small or too big.

Darius's grandmother and mom both love Harry and were trying to set the two up way before they got together.

Darius loves giving gifts and hardly ever has a week gone by that Harry has not found a random present left mixed in with his show props.

They had been dating about a year and half at the start of Sing 2.

[moonstruckme]

Just Remus Lupin who has a crybaby girlfriend that overthinks everything.

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 872 words

You knock on the door, and Remus reminds himself for the third time this week that he really needs to get you a copy of the key. He groans, rolling his neck as he stands from the reading position that had gotten uncomfortable at some point while he wasn’t paying attention, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he opens the door. 

“Sorry, dove, I keep forgetting—hey.” You’re biting down on your bottom lip, face red and eyes glassy. “Sweetheart,” the endearment comes out slow and heavy-hearted, “what’s happened?” 

It’s like you were waiting for permission. You crumple, mouth twisting awfully as a quiet whine tears from the back of your throat. Remus coos, stepping outside to wrap you up in his arms. You’re ready for him, and your arms come around his neck, your sniffles wet and pitiful next to his ear. 

“I thought you were just meeting up with Marcy,” he murmurs, a question embedded in the statement. 

“I was,” you choke out. “She’s mad at me.” 

Remus’ heart contracts painfully. He pets the back of your head. “Come here, love, come inside.” He starts walking backwards in the door, and you follow. “Do you want a cup of tea?” 

“No thank you,” you warble. 

He closes the door behind you, guiding you into a seat at the table. “I’ll make us hot chocolate, then.” 

This is somewhat routine. You’re a sensitive thing, with a delicate spirit. You feel what others feel keenly, and it’s not rare for small things throughout your day to work you into a tizzy for reasons Remus can’t always wrap his head around. A warm drink usually helps. 

“So,” he says cautiously, the gurgling of the kettle cutting through the quiet of his flat, “did you and Marcy have a fight?” 

You shake your head, sniffling. Remus makes a mental note to bring you some tissues. “No, I don’t think so.” Your voice is weak and broken up by little breaths as you try to calm yourself. “She just—” Your lip wobbles, and you bite down on it cruelly. “I could tell she was irritated with me,” you say miserably. 

Remus feels his brow pinch in sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did she say?” 

“It’s not—she wasn’t mean.” You palm some wetness away from your cheeks. “It was just her tone.” 

He hums, mixing the hot chocolate in two mugs. “What was her tone like?” 

You shake your head, more tears slipping past your lashes. “She just seemed so annoyed with me,” you weep, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sounds. “I think I talked for too long.” 

“Wait, dove,” Remus tucks a box of tissues under his arm as he brings over the mugs, setting yours in front of you, “you think she was cross with you because you talked too much?” 

You nod heartbrokenly, reaching for the tissues. “I was telling a story, and I could tell by the end that she was getting irritated so I stopped, but then when I asked if she was free to hang out again next week—” you hiccup out a tiny sob “—she just said ‘we’ll see’.” 

“Darling,” there’s a bit of relieved laughter in Remus’ tone, but you look up at him, crestfallen, and he shoves it right back down where it belongs, “I don’t know if she was quite so upset as you think, sweetheart. Maybe she just said that because she wasn’t sure if she’d be free next week.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “Rem, you weren’t there. She looked so—so done with me.” A fresh wave of tears falls, and Remus decides to take matters into his own hands, leaning across the table to thumb them away. You lean into his touch, love-deprived. “I don’t think she’s going to want to be friends anymore,” you barely murmur. Your tone is heavy with resignation. 

Remus makes a soft, pitying sound. “I’m sure she still wants to be friends,” he says quietly, stroking at your damp cheek. “Even if she was upset, I doubt it’s enough that—”

Your phone chimes, and he goes quiet, both your eyes flying to where it sits face-down on the table. 

“Who is it?” 

You turn it over, an exhale rattling out of you. “It’s Marcy.” 

Remus retracts his hand, picking up his hot chocolate to take a sip. “And what did she say?” he asks, already smug. 

Your face is tensed with anxiety as you open the message, but then it slackens. “She wants…she’s free to meet up again on Tuesday.” 

Remus doesn’t try to suppress his grin. He shakes his head at you, taking a long, satisfied sip of his hot chocolate. “What did I tell you?” 

“I…I’m sorry,” you say slowly, clearly struggling to switch gears. He doesn’t rush you, half enjoying his front-row seat to your realization. “I thought…wow.” You sniffle, looking at Remus through your lashes, sheepish. “I’m sorry I came home and ugly cried to you. I thought she was really upset.” 

He chuckles, reaching across the table to thumb a residual tear from your jaw. “That’s alright, dove. And you don’t ugly cry.” He chucks you gently under the chin. “You could never be capable of ugliness.” 

[nextstop-fixationstation]

I think my most controversial amphibia opinion is that the fact the Wu and Waybright parents didn't need to be shown on screen is a testament to how genuinely hands off they were with regards to their kids' emotional lives compared to the Boonchuys, and that that's actually a good insight into why both Marcy and Sasha are Like That

Like the way Mr. Boonchuy talks to the Plantars like he's used to having three girls in the back of the car, causing trouble, and the way Sasha says, "Hang out with your friends that love you (instead of being a "Good Girl" forced to be with her parents)" and the fact Marcy straight up just runs away without a second thought all point to a distinct lack of closeness. That doesn't mean they were necessarily abusive, but their relationships are genuinely fraught in a way Anne's relationships with her family and community just aren't. I think that's actually a really important thing to note.

Given that, it also explains why Marcy trusts Andrias to the point of unreason because he validates them so much, and why Sasha grows so much when working with Grime and when confronted with Wartwood — an actual community that cares about its own and reciprocates good deeds done.

I think that the decision to call those parents essentially redundant is...ultimately fine. It makes sense. Their lack of presence should be felt and understood as, perhaps, the reason Marcy and Sasha act out the way they do, and it also serves to emphasize just how good the Boonchuys and the Plantars are as guardians

[inbarfink]

"Just move forwards, Simon! Well, maybe I don't want to move forwards!"

Okay, so it’s pretty damn obvious that Simon’s whole rant here is not just about the physical act of moving forwards through the Time Room. Like, I don’t need to explain what ‘moving forwards’ means in this case, right? But… the thing I’ve been thinking of is that the metaphor here might actually extend more than just this one line.

Because, yeah, Simon does need to move forwards. Metaphorically because embracing change and accepting you can’t actually go back to some idealized past where things were Better is the only way he can actually be happier. And literally because there is an Angry Beetle Cop out to murder his head off for the crime of being chosen by God as a sapient hard-drive. 

But moving on is hard, and you know why?

Because it is hard to move forwards in this silly little mumu.  

And again, this is both metaphorical and literal. Simon is fully aware that he should move forwards with his life, but this robe is yet another painful reminder of the trauma he’s trying to move on from. Yet another example of people treating him like he’s Ice King. Yet another symbol that him being Simon again is seen as some sort of a mistake.

And also, it’s just obviously physically, literally uncomfortable for him to move in this thing.

Simon was forced into a fit designed for a Wizard who could Fly. He’s constantly lifting it up and being so careful about his steps as to not stumble on it, and also trying so hard to not flash his genitalia to God and God’s two OCs that he shoved in his brain. Not to mention he’s running around the Time Room barefoot. And, like, at least when Ice King wore this he still had underpants.

But the thing is.... like, okay, the thing about the Shorts Scene is that it is kinda unfair Fionna got her outfit upgraded into a more comfortable variant while Simon still has to wear the Trauma Robes. But the important thing to remember is that Fionna got those lovely shorts because she explicitly complained about the skirt.

You can say that Simon’s problems should’ve been Obvious and maybe that’s true… but it’s still notable that unlike Fionna, who immediately complained when she started to find her outfit kinda uncomfortable - Simon lets out one sarcastic grumble when he first gets the robe and then just keeps his mouth shut and quietly wallows in his misery until he reached his breaking point. 

That seems notable especially with what we see of Simon in “Simon Petrikov” and how hard it is for him to be honest with his loved ones about his problems. 

I’ve seen some people express some anger at the way Finn and Marceline acted towards Simon during that episode. Saying they didn’t care about Simon enough. But Simon was deliberately hiding his struggles from them - and especially from Marcy. You know, he opened up to Finn and Finn was honestly doing what he thought was best. The problem being that Finn is pretty-messed-up himself and not good at therapy.

And Simon decided the best solution was just to drop the whole thing and pretend that Finn’s adventure did help as a way to end that nightmare without directly confronting him about Actually Making Things Worse. As far as Finn is concerned, Simon was doing badly and is now doing well. And as far as Marcy is concerned Simon is doing just fine! And this situation is not likely to change unless Simon actually speaks up!

Of course, this is easier said than done. I mean, like I said, he was TRYING to open up to Finn and from his perspective, got punished for even trying out for help.

And with the mumu, the situation is a even more complicated. Yes, Simon didn’t speak up when he had the chance to say ‘hey, actually it’s also pretty hard to run around barefoot in a robe! I would like some Pants please!” But also… where Finn and Marceline have both expressed nothing but genuine concern for Simon and take his issues very seriously in their own way - Prismo, Fionna and Cake have all been kinda callous about Simon’s situation and his mental well-being so far. 

So maybe it wasn’t totally unreasonable for Simon to assume that any attempt to assert what would make it easier for him to actually move forwards will fail. Or at least would be far too emotionally grueling to actually be worth it. I'm not saying that's for-sure what would've happened. I mean those three aren't just jerks for the sake of being jerks - it's just that Prismo is kinda occupied with his own grief-induced-depression-spiral and Fionna and Cake don't really get Simon yet. And we're surely going to get to a point in this narrative where these two genuinely care about him too sooner or later. But I can see in that moment why he would think that.

And so he keeps wallowing in the misery and resentment as it gets increasingly harder and harder to keep going forwards. Until he breaks and decide that maybe, what he actually wants is to just stop.  

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Cat Man Do: Part 2 (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Seconding Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 11,000 Summary: It is a day of discovery for you. Warning(s): Swearing, sexual fantasies, referenced masturbation, kissing, dirty talk, referenced marking/hickies, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V sex, referenced oral sex (male receiving), referenced animal abuse (not graphic) Series Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @indestructeible, @what-i-call-men, @reblog-reblog666, @flynnethenerd, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @yarrystyleeza, @bellaxgiornata, @reluctanthalfwayofoptimism, @bluerobin35 Also posted on AO3

Cat Man Do

Part 2 of 2

“And that’s the last of it,” you said to yourself as you put the last of the dishes into the drying rack. While you dried off your hands, you did a quick survey of your handiwork. The apartment was now back to its normal state of relative tidiness. The only remaining mess was the nest of blankets that Trouble had burrowed himself into and presumably napping it.

It had been tempting to peek. Very tempting. But you knew yourself. If you did that, you wouldn’t be able to resist petting him. Then you would probably give into the urge to see if he liked any of the cat toys you still had . . . then boom, the housework would be completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that you hated housework. It was just boring. Which made any number of procrastinating distractions rather appealing. Listening to music or podcast on your phone usually helped. Singing along with your favorite songs or learned something interesting made it feel like the dull but necessary work wasn’t taking so long. Thought you had to avoid certain ones while doing housework because sometimes they got you arguing with the people in the magic box instead of doing what you were supposed to. Like ironing your work clothes . . .

Other days, your brain decided to turn whatever was coming out of your phone into white noise and simply daydreamed. Today was one of those days. Fortunate for getting your work done, those daydreams stayed innocent. Imaging Matt having his way with you on your kitchen table, for example, would have been rather distracting. Case in point, even just the thought of that fantasy was making you squirm.

Keeping them sweet didn’t prevent Matt from taking the staring role. Far from it. Which was embarrassing for all different reasons. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about an attractive man. Picturing that same man saying three little words with that deeply fond smile on his face had different implications.

Implications that made you feel stupid. You knew falling in love with your boss was a bad idea. The king of bad ideas. Mousy secretary falls in love with her incredibly attractive boss is the premise for a romance novel, not a recipe for true love forever. You were going to get your heart broken. Probably not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

You weren’t looking forward to it. Watching women hit on him already felt like a knife to your heart. Watching while he meet someone else and fall in love with them was going to be agony. Assuming you stayed around to watch. Which you likely wouldn’t do. You weren’t that much of masochist.

The worst part was that you wanted Matt to find his special someone. The person who would make him laugh and help him find joy. Someone who would comfort him when he was sad, take care of him when he was sick. For him to know that someone loved him, that they wanted to stay forever . . . you wanted that for him.

Maybe it was selfish but you just wished that special someone was you.

You knew it was unlikely. Matt had never stated an interest in you beyond friendship. Yes, he flirted. But Matt flirted with everyone. And yes, you had gone on all those outings with him. But those were friend outings, not dates. And yes, on those occasions when Matt asked him to guide him, it seemed like he was reluctant to let go of your arm afterward. Or how he kept holding your hands after they had gotten warmed up after forgetting your gloves last week, only dropping them when the office phone rang . . .

But he never said anything. Sometimes it seem liked he might. Moments where he said he had something to tell you, something that he wanted to ask, that seem like maybe . . . then nothing. Either the universe intervene – phone calls, fire alarm, sudden loud argument between two food truck drivers – or it wouldn’t be exactly what you were hoping for. Like asking if you would be his plus-one at some fancy party being thrown by Columbia Law alum next weekend. That wasn’t a date. It was just practical since he and Foggy had only gotten their invitations to said party this week . . . It was a very deliberate snub considering Marci had received hers month ago . . .

Granted, you hadn’t said anything to him either. In part because you wanted to avoid ruining what you already had. You genuinely liked being Matt’s friend. You valued that relationship and didn’t want to lose it. Or make things incredibly awkward. But big part of it was simply that you weren’t ready to hear ‘I’m flattered but . . .’

You’d probably never be ready. Because no matter how kindly someone tries to let you down, rejection always stung . . .

“Enough moping,” you told yourself sternly. You had a mystery to explore.

But first you were going to check on Trouble. He had been rather quiet. Too quiet. He might simply be asleep but your experience said that sometimes the too quiet cat was a cat getting into mischief. You walked over to the blanket cocoon and peeled back the layers until you found the lithe, brown form. A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked sleepily at you. You couldn’t resist. There were few things cuter than a drowsy cat. You reached over and started lightly scratching behind the ears. Trouble purred and bumped his head more firmly into your hands.

“Hey there, sleepy kitty,” you said. “Enjoy your nap?”

He made one of those trilling noises which only made your smile grow. And encouraged you to keep petting him. Which wasn’t a hardship.

“Your coat is so soft, Trouble,” you said. “Feels like velvet.”

Like your new dress, the one you had let Marci and Karen talked you into buying for the fancy party. You hadn’t intended to buy anything when you accompanied them to the stops. You had fully intended to just wear one of the dresses you already owned. But then you saw it.

A pretty black dress made of velvet that looked like it was your size. Curious, you had checked. It was. Moreover, it was marked off enough to within your limited budget. Which made it very tempting. A temptation that Marci enthusiastically enabled. Come on, at least see how it fits . . .

It fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. Offered tantalizing glimpses of skin without showing off more than you were comfortable with. You had felt beautiful wearing it. Which meant Marci and Karen didn’t have to push very hard to convince you to buy it. Karen sweetened the deal by reminding you that Matt loved velvet. And that maybe feeling so pretty would give you the confidence boost you needed to tell him how you felt.

Something that both Karen and Marci seemed very certain would be received well. You weren’t nearly so sure but you brought the dress.

In the name of making you feel as pretty and confident as possible, Karen and Marci decided you also needed new shoes and underwear. When you objected that you couldn’t afford to do that, Marci countered that she would pay. Which was why you were now the proud owner of a pair of heels that cost a frankly ridiculous amount of money. Because when Marci decided to treat someone, she didn’t believe in going cheap.

The underwear set had been more reasonably priced but still seemed like a lot for a bra and panties. Even if they were made of high quality silk and lace. But they had looked good on you too and Karen had asked you to imagine if everything went well and the night ended with your dress on Matt’s bedroom floor . . .

You didn’t know what had flustered you more. Your own imagination or that evil, knowing grin on Karen’s face or Marci supplying lewd details of Matt’s sexual prowess. Not from her own experience but she knew people who had slept with him. People whose stories she trusted to be accurate.

Karen insisted that the underwear had to be dark red. Saying with a mysterious smile that Matt would find it hot. Which just confused you. For obvious reasons, purely visual elements like color didn’t hold any appeal for Matt . . .

“Why?” you mused out loud. But since Karen wasn’t here to pester, your only answer was a questioning meow from Trouble. Which probably had more to do with you getting so lost in your head that you had stopped petting him than anything else.

“Sorry, Trouble,” you said, resuming the pets. “Got distracted. Trying to figure out why Karen thinks Matt would find me wearing red silk underwear sexy.”

Trouble made the strangest sound you had ever heard from a cat. Like he couldn’t decide which cat noise to make and kept switching tracks part-way through each one. If he had been human, you would have said he was sputtering.

It was such a funny reaction that you couldn’t help giggling.

Matt’s current form prevented him from blushing. Which he supposed he should be thankful for. His sputtering already had you giggling. He could only imagine your reaction to seeing his cheeks go what he had been told was a lovely shade of dusty pink.

What was Karen up to? Telling you something like that?!

The fact that it was true was immaterial. Now he would have fantasies about running his hands over your curves, feeling your petal soft skin encased in silk . . . and the idea of you wearing Daredevil red immensely pleased that possessive streak that ran deep inside him . . .

But he didn’t need help coming up with impure thoughts about you. He already spent far too much time touching himself while imaging you spread out on his bed, exploring every inch with his hands and mouth, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears . . . Fantasies that were going to be a lot more vivid now that he knew exactly what those noises sounded like and just how sweet your arousal tasted . . . even if tasting it from the air was a poor substitute for tasting it directly from the source . . .

Matt shook himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

You turned your attention toward your pack and the mystery inside it. You moved the pack over to the couch and started pulling out the suit.

The red color was brighter than you expected, dark scarlet instead of the maroon it had looked under the dim light of your flashlight. The webbing between panels wasn’t black either. It was a deep, deep red that almost black. Like those really good cherries that you loved but could never remember what they were called. It was was just as heavy as you remembered, with the heft that reminded you of an old friend’s bulletproof vest. But more flexible . . . actually, looking at all of the webbing interwoven into it, you’d guess a lot more.

“It seems Daredevil is a bendy vigilante,” you mused outloud. “Probably not as bendy as Spider-Man but that guy is made out of silly-putty. Or at least his spine is.”

The suit was a little scuffed but otherwise looked fine. No holes, rips, or tears that you could find. No visible blood . . . you sniffed. You couldn’t smell any blood either. Just sweat. Something clean that you recognized as saddle soap. The fainter odor of plain soap along with something very familiar.

“Huh,” you said, eyeing the suit. “Daredevil and Matt wear the same cologne. Small world.”

Next, you checked the pouches on the belt. There weren’t that many. They contained a prepaid cell phone that you set aside to look at more closely later, zip ties, fold-up cash, and business cards. Curious, you shuffled through the cards. Nelson & Murdock, Alias Investigations, Chikara Dojo, FEAST, Helping Hands . . . . Each business or charity was separated by paper clips or rubber bands.

“Curious,” you murmured, wondering why . . . maybe he just didn’t want to spend time shuffling through them looking for a particular one? Or didn’t think he would always have time to do that? Maybe he had folded up the cash for the same reason. As long as he remembered how each card was bundled or bill folded, he could get out the right one without looking at them.

You turned your attention to the phone but was immediately stymied. The phone refused to turn on. It didn’t look broken. Which probably meant that it needed to be charged. Guess you weren’t the only one who forgot to put their phone on the charger. Or maybe Daredevil used a phone while fighting crime a lot more than anyone would expect. You grumbled as you got off the couch. You weren’t sure if your charger would work with this phone. Thankfully it did but the batteries were practically dead. Investigating the phone would have to wait.

In the meantime, you inspected the helmet. It was the same color as the suit but not the same materials, something more rigid. But it seemed to be in good shape. You couldn’t see or feel any cracks. You traced the edge of the characteristic horns and mask. You were unable to resist to urge to put the helmet on your own head. It probably looked ridiculous. There was nothing superhero about your oversized tee shirt featuring a gray cat calling itself ‘purr-fect’ and sweat pants. But you were curious. What did the world look like to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?

The answer was very red. You had expected a reddish tint from the color of the lenses. But it was more intense than you expected. It was also less . . . clear than you would have thought. The lenses weren’t opaque – you could see through them. But tinted dark like a pair of sunglasses.

“Odd,” you said, wondering why Daredevil had what was effectively sunglasses built into his helmet. It seemed peculiar. Especially for a vigilante that operated almost exclusively at night. And had a known habit of cutting lights to places before going in. The consensus in the hero forums was that Daredevil must be able to see in the dark. But, you frowned, even the best night vision still needed some light . . . even nocturnal animals couldn’t see in total darkness . . .

“If he has superhuman night vision,” you thought outloud, pulling off the helmet. “Maybe his eyes are really light sensitive?”

Trouble meowed loudly. It sounded almost like a no.

“Vetoing that theory, Trouble?” You asked, glancing over at him. He had crawled out of the blanket cocoon and was doing the big stretch. Which, by the rules of cat companions everywhere, you had to comment on. “Ohhh, big stretch!”

He meowed again. You laughed. It was almost like he was answering you.

You smiled and shook your head. Despite Trouble’s rejection, the theory was plausible. Someone whose eyes worked very well at low light could very well be someone that found bright light painful. And while he worked at night, New York City wasn’t all that dark after sundown. Nowhere near as dark as it was out in the forest.

Granted, Hell’s Kitchen was darker at night than most of the city. Streets lights and other sources of lighting that had gotten damaged in the Incident still hadn’t been repaired or replaced. Somehow there was never enough money in the budget. At least not for something like street lights. Some of the landlords were similarly disinclined. Others had died during the aforementioned alien invasion and similar attacks on the city. And many of those estates were a byzantine nightmare of disputed wills, shell companies, and other assorted legal headaches.

You knew this because Nelson & Murdock was one of the many laws firms attempting untangle this particular Gordian knot. The progress had been slow and uneven. Matt and Foggy had muttered many unkind words about property law, estate law, the lawyers involved in creating this mess, and especially the lawyers trying to keep the knot intact because the mess benefited their clients . . . which yes, was their job. But they didn’t have be so smug about it . . .

The color of the lenses was another question mark. Why red? Then you remembered something you had read . . . red lenses or red lights helped people kept their eyes dark adapted or helped them adjust to low-light conditions quicker. Of course that little nugget had been discovered during a romp through Wikipedia Wonderland. So massive grain of salt . . .

Of course, it could simply be aesthetics. It fit with the Devil theme. You imagined that seeing the sudden glint of those red lenses from out of the shadows would be quite intimidating.

“Or maybe he just likes red,” you muttered to yourself, putting the helmet down on the coffee table.

You drummed your fingers against your thigh, staring at the suit . . . why? Why would Daredevil abandon his suit and (possibly) walk into the night wearing (possibly) only whatever was under the suit?

“Which couldn’t be much,” you mused, your face flushing at the thought. Most images of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were either low-quality, out-of-focus, or too shadowy to make out much. But from what you could tell, the suit was close-fitting. No much room for anything but him in there. Or nothing at all. Which was an idea that made your flush worse.

Matt might have been the leading man in your fantasies but he wasn’t the only one to appear. You had entertained thoughts about Daredevil. Very dirty thoughts. Which was really saying something considering some of the ones involving Matt . . . but there was just something about the vigilante that could made you feel feral.

You had the feeling that those fantasies were about to get more vivid. Because now, you knew what the suit looked like up close. What it felt like under your hands. Granted what it felt like without Daredevil actually in it. Which was, if you were being perfectly honest, a little disappointing. You might be carrying the torch for Matt but that didn’t stop other men from being attractive. Or your mind from idly (and somewhat guiltily) wondering if Daredevil’s suit struggled to contain his muscles the same way Matt’s suits struggled to contain his . . .

Something touched your thigh. You jumped before realizing it was just Trouble putting one of his paws on your leg. Probably looking for attention. You reached down to start petting him, scratching him behind the ears. Which he seemed to enjoy, purring as he crawled onto your lap. You were easily tempted away from your mystery.

“You’re a total lap cat, aren’t you?” you asked. Your only answer was louder purring.

You were starting to feel almost sleepy, sitting here with a purring cat in your lap. Especially on a day like this, gray and unusually quiet for New York. Which made the notification chime from your phone inordinately loud. Checking it required disturbing Trouble. Which he made very clear that he didn’t like.

“I know, I know, you were comfortable,” you said, checking the notifications. Mostly text messages from friends and family making sure you were okay. You had just sent off a couple of replies when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

Looking away from your phone, you peered at the suit. What . . . oh. There was something inside the crumpled suit, a bit of fabric peeking out. Curious, you sat down your phone and touched it. Silk. You gave it a gentle tug and the cloth came out.

Immediately, you felt your face flush again. It was underwear. Specifically a pair of men’s black boxers. Black silk boxers. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wore black silk boxers. For reasons you couldn’t really explain, this made you giggle.

The universe was a peculiar place. One where a blind defense attorney and a vigilante had interesting things in common. They both liked silk. They wear the same cologne. And estimating from the suit, Daredevil and Matt were the same height and had a similar build.

And apparently knew a lot of the same people. Matt carried a lot of the same business cards, personally knew the owners. Though you were a little unclear on how he had met some of them. Jessica Jones, you could see. She lived and worked in Hell’s Kitchen and her zero-tolerance policy for assholes often got her trouble with the cops. But the others were less clear . . . It didn’t help that when you had asked, the story you had gotten had been rather vague.

It wasn’t the only story where Matt, Foggy, and Karen got evasive. Another sign that there were secrets in the office of Nelson & Murdock. And not the normal client-confidentiality type secrets . . .

Glancing back at the suit, you noticed something else. Something you couldn’t believe you had missed. It didn’t look like it had been stripped off. None of the zippers or other fasteners were undone. You frowned, looking closely at it again. How could he have gotten it off without undoing any of the fasteners?

All thoughts of Daredevil were driven out of your head when Trouble let out a pained yowl. You snapped your head up to see him fall off the couch, writhing and twisting like he was having a seizure. You rushed toward him but then something weird happened. Trouble began to grow and swell, becoming bigger and bigger . . . body twisting and jerking the entire time . . . until what was laying on your floor wasn’t a cat. It was a man.

A very familiar man. Matt Murdock lay there, his body still twitching and spasming. His chest heaved and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes. Had that really just happened? You pinched yourself. It hurt. So not a dream. You reached out and touched Matt’s shoulder. It was solid and warm under your hand. The muscles still twitching from . . . whatever that was. But gradually the twitching stopped and the tension in Matt’s jaw eased.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “Didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Find out what? That he turned into a cat? Or . . . you looked at the suit. Then it clicked. All of the pieces suddenly made sense. Matt was Daredevil. The suit didn’t look like it had been stripped off because it hadn’t. The person wearing it had merely gotten much, much smaller.

“You’re Daredevil?” you asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“And you turn into a cat?” you asked. You hoped not. He was a very cute cat but that transformation had looked like hideously painful.

His lips twitched into something like a smile. “Not usually. This was the first time.”

“Okay,” you said. You took a deep breath. Than another. Your boss was Daredevil. He had been turned into a cat. You had taken him to your apartment. He might have observed you having a dirty dream about him. This was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine.

Another breath. “Expected development?”

“No. Magic spell. I think.”

“Magic spell?” you repeated. “Like actual magic? You know, nevermind. Of course, magic is real. Why the hell not? We were invaded by aliens. There is a Norse God living uptown. Why wouldn’t magic be real?!”

You were babbling. But you couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that Matt was really smiling now. With the dimple and everything. Which had always left you flustered. Especially when combined with that fond look. Even if it almost immediately faded to something sober and tentative.

“Let me sit up and I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay,” you said. But as he started to push himself into a sitting position, you noticed something. Something that left you even more flustered. Matt was naked. Completely naked. Not a single stitch on him. You could see his . . . everything. Feeling your cheeks burn, you jerked back and whirled around to face the wall.

“Sweetheart?”

You felt your heart beat faster at the pet name. He had never called you that before. At work, he was entirely professional. And when you were at Josie’s or an outing, he just called you by your name.

“Clothes,” you said, feeling little frantic. You needed answers – to so many things – but you couldn’t have that conversation with him while he was naked. You would get . . . distracted. But none of your clothes would fit him . . . wait, the boxers! Where . . . you looked . . . there!

You scurried forward and snatched the boxers off the floor. Keeping your eyes firmly on his face, you went and dropped the underwear into what you hoped was his lap. “Your boxers. This isn’t a naked conversation.”

A soft huff of laughter. “No, it isn’t. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart again? It wasn’t a slip of the tongue? Your cheeks couldn’t get any warmer but they sure tried.

You turned away again to give him some privacy while he dressed. For a given value of dressed. Considering it was only underwear. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and tried not to think about that. Or his . . . everything. You had limited success.

“I’m decent. You can look now.”

‘That’s debatable,’ you thought after you turned to face him. Yes, everything that needed covering was now covered. But the boxers fit him snugly enough that very little was left to the imagination. Not that you really needed your imagination anymore . . . . And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of him.

You had known he had muscles. You just hadn’t realized he had quite so many muscles . . .

Matt realized that you had gotten distracted when it took a couple of times calling your name to get your attention. He was well aware that you were attracted to him but it was still gratifying to his ego to experience your body’s reaction to him. And the way the temperature and blood shifted to your face when you realized that you had been caught staring was rather cute.

But he soon sobered, remembering what you had just discovered. What he needed to explained. “Do you remember how I lost my eyesight?”

“I remember,” you said.

“Those chemicals didn’t just blind me,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for your inevitable reaction. Then he explained how his remaining senses had been enhanced to a superhuman degree. How he could hear everything happening around him, for several blocks. Further if he was focusing on someone he was familiar with. How he could very likely find Foggy, Karen, or you anywhere in this city if he needed to.

That his other senses were just as keen. Did his best to describe his world on fire. The others had poked fun of his metaphor but it was the best one he had found. He felt the usual frustration at not having the right words, the perfect words, to describe how he experienced the world. Words that help someone else understand his world without the misconceptions.

But such words didn’t seem to exist. He had to make do with the ones he had.

He took another deep breath, continuing in a very firm voice. “My senses do not change the fact that I cannot see. There are things my senses cannot tell me. Like what color anything is. Times when my world on fire isn’t as reliable as I would like such as when I’m tired or ill. My cane and other adaptive equipment aren’t props. I’m not pretending to be blind. I am blind.”

“Someone actually said that to you?” you said, sounding shocked. It was the first time you had spoken when he had started talking.

“Yes,” he said, trying not to remember how Foggy had spit out those words. Hardly the most painful thing that had been said that awful night . . . but the clear disgust in his voice had stayed with Matt for a long time . . .

“Who?” you demanded, your heartbeat sharply rising. He heard the shift of bone and muscle as your hands curled into fists. It was sweet that your first reaction was defend him. If it was completely unnecessary.

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt said, waving it off. “They didn’t really understand the explanation at first. Neither of us were in the right head space for the conversation. We’ve talked more since then and now they get it. And they apologized for that particular misunderstanding.”

You sighed.

You weren’t entirely surprised. Matt tended to be forgiving. Along with a rather concerning habit of ignoring or downplaying things when he was the one being treated poorly . . . And, as you silently reminded yourself, you didn’t know the whole story. That wouldn’t make what they said okay but it might make it understandable . . .

Regardless the decision to forgive or not to forgive was ultimately Matt’s, not yours. And he had obviously chosen to forgive whoever it was. Best to let it go and change the subject.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked. “Or something else to drink?”

That bit of gravel in his voice might do all sorts of tingly stuff to your insides but he had been talking for a while. His mouth must be getting dry.

“As long you are making it anyway, coffee would be great,” Matt said.

“Coming right up,” you said and went into the kitchen. As you set up the coffee to brew, you did your best to process anything you had just learned.

Matt was Daredevil. It explained a lot. Foggy and Karen certainly knew. It was the only explanation for why they went along with Matt’s very obvious lies about how he had been injured. And why they didn’t seem . . . well, you couldn’t say that there was no concern. You had seen the pinched look of Foggy’s face when Matt was moving like it hurt him to breath. The worried, accessing look Karen gave particularly colorful bruises.

And yet, they had accepted every single one of his excuses from the plausible to the silly without question. Told you there was nothing to worry about when you expressed concern about Matt’s well-being. Even through sometimes neither looked like they really believed that . . .

Now you realized that they were concerned. It was just a different kind of concerned. Because they weren’t wondering how Matt kept getting hurt. They weren’t racking their brains trying to figure out who was hurting him or if all those worrying signs were related to some kind of health problem. Like maybe he was having seizures or something like that but was refusing to see the doctor . . .

But every theory you came up with kept hitting the wall for not being able to explain why Foggy and Karen didn’t seem to share your concerns. Why they clearly loved Matt but ignored that something troubling was obviously going on with him. . . . It hadn’t made any sense.

Now it did. Matt was Daredevil. They knew he was Daredevil. And knew his injuries were from fighting crime.

Matt had super senses. Which meant, you realized with a certain amount of horror, he had absolutely heard you moaning his name while touching yourself this morning. You buried your face in your hands with a soft groan. There was no hiding your non-platonic feelings anymore. The cat was out of the bag. Pun fully intended.

“What’s wrong?”

You jumped. You weren’t expecting his voice to be so close. He wasn’t crowding you or anything. His position by the edge of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room was a couple feet away from where you were standing in front of the coffee pot. But you hadn’t heard him moving around. Apparently he didn’t need to be cat shaped to walk silently through walls.

“Sorry,” he said, though the little twitch of his lips belied that apology. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Somehow,” you said, willing your heart to slow back down. “I doubt that.”

“Do you?”

“I saw those lips twitch,” you pointed out. “You think making me jump is funny.”

“That is quite the accusation,” he said with mock seriousness. “Do you have any evidence?”

Using his courtroom voice was cheating. Especially when he was only wearing boxers. Pure cheating. You pulled out your stubborn streak, standing with your fists on your hips. “I know what I saw. I will not be fooled by your twisty-turny lawyer tricks into saying otherwise, Mr. Murdock.”

“That sounds like a challenge, sweetheart.”

The pet name said with that almost purring voice sent tingles down your spine. And brought renewed heat between your legs. Rather annoyingly the cocky smirk on his face did nothing to diminish that ardor. Maybe if he had been wearing more than boxers . . . or if he didn’t look so good half-naked . . .

A soft cough brought you back to the present. You felt your cheeks get warm again, realizing that you had been so busy staring at his abs that you hadn’t noticed him talking.

“Distracted?” he asked, a teasing grin spread wide across his face.

“No,” you said quickly, feeling the warmth in your cheeks intensify.

He hummed, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Lie.”

“What?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that I can tell when someone is lying?” He said, feigning innocence. It wasn’t a very convincing performance. He was far too amused.

“No, that detail hadn’t come up yet,” you said. “How?”

“Mostly your heartbeat. It changes when someone is lying.”

Suddenly, something you had observed at the office now made sense. Your job was more on the reception and secretarial side but sometimes you acted as their paralegal. When acting in that role, you had seen Foggy subtly nudge Matt who would give a little shake or nod of his head. You hadn’t know what to make of it at the time. Now you realized that Foggy was checking to see if their client or whoever else they were interviewing was telling the truth.

When you asked about your theory, Matt was quick to confirmed it. A moment later, the coffee finished brewing. You pulled down the two mugs, then doctored them to each of your coffee preferences.

“You seem to be taking this rather well,” he remarked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

You shrugged. “It’s not that surprising once I started thinking about it.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

Matt chuckled. “What, you didn’t believe that I got that black eye tripping over a curb?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on, I thought that one was very plausible.”

“Only for someone who doesn’t know you,” you said. “Or your friends pretending for the sake of your secret identity.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

You drank more of your coffee, enjoying the comfortable quiet. To avoid getting distracted by his half-naked body again, you kept your eyes on his face. Which probably wasn’t the best plan. Matt’s handsome face was a distraction in its own right. Especially when he wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him without them but the sight always pleased you. It meant Matt trusted you. Not with all of his secrets, obviously, but enough that he didn’t feel the need to hide himself.

Along with those lovely hazel eyes, there were further delights. The generous mouth, good cheekbones and that strong jaw dusted with facial hair. Heavily dusted today. He hadn’t shaved lately. So he had the very start of a beard. You had never seen Matt with a beard. You bet that he would look good with one . . .

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt said, interrupting your attempts to imagine him with a beard.

“Nothing important,” you said. “Just noticed you hadn’t shave lately and was idly wondering if you were growing a beard.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming sound. “It is tempting this time of year but they get so itchy during the summer.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” you said.

“It is,” he said. “Wore one for a couple years during college. Shaved it off just after starting L1.”

“Any particular reason why?” you asked, making a mental note to ask Foggy if he had any pictures of bearded Matt. You needed to see them. For science. Or something.

“An especially muggy day in August when the air conditioners decided to stop working. And the girl I was seeing at the time liked me clean-shaven. Said my beard was too rough when I kissed her.”

A salacious grin spread across his face. “Among other activities.”

“Did she?” you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Because your mind had immediately become consumed with imagining the delicious contrast between prickly beard on your thigh while his soft lips . . . warmth flooded your cheeks.

You saw Matt’s nostrils flare. Then the tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his lips. He made a soft moan that went straight to your cunt. It was impossible not to get worked up. Not with those images in your head. Not with that sound. You were equally unable to stop your breath from hitching as he stepped closer. And closer, stopping just shy of touching you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice had always done things to you but that huskier timber really made you shudder. There was only one answer you could give.

“Yes.”

And he was kissing you. Gentle at first, a delicate press of the lips with your head cradled in his hands. But it didn’t remain that way for long. Not after all those months of pent-up desire. Now that you didn’t have to resist kissing him, you all but devoured his mouth.

Matt matched your eagerness, seemingly just hungry for your mouth as you were his. Even the need for air barely kept your lips apart. The entire world might as well have disappeared. You were aware of nothing else. Only that mouth kissing you and greedily swallowing every moan you made. Only those large, warm hands sliding down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts until coming to rest on your hips. Only his body against yours. The edge of the counter digging into your back barely even registered.

At least to you. Matt made some grumpy-sounding noise, then his hands were gripping your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. Your startled yelp turned into a moan when he slot himself between your legs. Any lingering doubts you had about him finding you physically attractive were dispelled at the feeling of his growing erection rubbing against your core. You couldn’t contain a second louder, stuttered moan. Even with too many clothes in the way, it felt incredible . . .

“If you want me to stop,” he rumbled, nuzzling your neck. “Tell me to stop. Tell me no.”

“Don’t stop,” you said, your voice dangerously close to begging. But you didn’t care. You had wanted this for so long. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to.” he said, then one hand abandoned its place on your hip to tug lightly at your shirt. “May I?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, rising your arms to help Matt pull off your shirt. Despite the heater chugging away, your skin still immediately pebbled. Your nipples had already tightened into peaks. You kissed him again as your shirt was tossed . . . somewhere. You weren’t paying attention to your shirt. All of your attention was Matt and the hungry, almost feral look on his face.

Matt ran his hands over your body, exploring every inch of bare skin from the tips of your fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. So soft, even softer than he had dreamed. Keeping his hands to himself the next time you were at work was going to take some serious self-discipline. He blazed a trail of kisses down your neck until he found a spot that had you shuddering.

There, he applied little nips and lathed at the skin until he was satisfied there would be a mark. One that by happy coincidence should peek out from behind the collar of your work blouses. Good. That should let any would-be suitors know that you were taken. It was selfish but he didn’t want share this delightfully soft skin with anyone.

Or how responsive you were. He greedily took in all your reactions. The dancing rhythm of your heart. The breathy moans as his mouth continued its downward journey. The gasps when he started lapping at one peaked nipple while squeezing the other breast in his hand. The way you cried out his name when he latched onto that nipple and sucked. The way you arched your back, begging for more. How your nails bit into his shoulder when he obliged, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple. The whines when he removed his mouth from that breast . . . and how it turned into a wordless cry when he gave the other breast the same attention.

Best of all, the scent of your arousal soaking through your panties. All because of him. You smelled just as sweet as you had been this morning. Only this time he wasn’t a cat. Soon, he would be on his knees. Soon, his face would be buried in that wonderfully drenched pussy . . .

Soon . . .

You were burning. A fire that Matt had lit, then steadily built with his hands and mouth until you burned with need. An urgency that the man himself didn’t seem to feel. He moved at a speed that could be best described as languid.

“M-matt,” you whined.

“Yes?” he asked, lifting his head from your breast. Seeing his lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips made the growing ache in your cunt worse. “What does my sweet girl need?”

My sweet girl . . . . Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. “Need you.”

“Gotta be more specific than that,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

You were half naked on your kitchen counter and fully ready to have sex with this man and yet somehow that question still managed to fluster you. “Maattt.”

“I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want,” he said, sounding almost conversational. But his voice was too husky, his eyes too hungry, for that. The way his thumbs rubbed the skin just about the waistband of your sweatbands was another dead giveaway.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“No need to be shy, sweet girl,” he continued, pausing to give another little nip to the top of your right breast. A spot that you hadn’t realized that so sensitive until he started lavishing it with attention. “No one but me will hear you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you considered that. He was right. It was just you and him. And you trusted him . . . Maybe you should start with something simple?

“My pants and underwear,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady. “I want them off.”

The smirk he flashed you was all kinds of wicked. “As you wish.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and started tugging it down. Along with your panties. In a sharp contrast to his earlier leisurely pace, he quickly yanked down the clothes and tossed them aside. Like with your shirt, you found yourself too distracted to notice or care where your clothes went.

Matt gripped your knees and spread your legs wide. He then sank down to his knees, shifting forward until he was tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. The sight once again had your cunt clenching around nothing. A deep rumble, almost like a growl, erupted from him. It matched the feral expression spreading across his face.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded, his voice a growl full of gravel. You shuddered. You had never heard him speak like that. But it worked you up just as much as his courtroom voice. His hands tightened on your thighs. “My fingers?”

He lifted one hand away from your leg, then ran a single thick finger through your folds. You gasped when that finger brushed over your clit, then groaned with disappointment when that fleeting touch was all you got. Then felt your mouth go dry when he raised the finger to his mouth and licked off your slick. Especially when Matt let out a low moan, briefly closing his eyes in clear pleasure.

“Or my mouth,” Matt continued. You gasped when he leaned forward and gave the entire length of your cunt a single lick. You tried to lift your hips but Matt’s hands clamped down on your thighs and pinned you down to the counter.

“Matt!” you pleaded but the grip on your legs remained firm.

“Tell me,” He said, then blow a puff of air against your desperate cunt. He nuzzled your inner thigh, his rough stubble sending sparks down your spine. “What does this beautiful pussy want?”

“Maatt.”

“Tell me, sweet girl.” He kissed your inner thigh. Then another kiss. It rapidly became clear that your desperate cunt wasn’t going to get the attention it wanted unless you said the words.

“Matt!”

“Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please, I need – fuck!”

Matt did another long, slow lick up your entire slit. After a teasing swipe across your clit, he turned his attention to your soaked entrance. There he lapped with soft, little licks which were obscenely loud. Like he was messily eating an ice cream cone. One that he clearly enjoyed, making a low noise that sounded remarkably like purring. The vibration contributed to making your own, much louder moans. Instinctively you tried to squirm but his hands kept you right where he wanted you. You could feel that familiar pressure start to build.

He pulled away. No! You started to protest but was cut off by Matt lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Then his mouth was back on you, his tongue circling your entrance before slipping inside you. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto as his tongue fucked into you again and again

That something ended up being Matt’s hair. But he didn’t seem to mind, rewarding every tug on the hair twisted tightly in your fingers with a loud groan. Then his tongue slipped out of you, switching its attention to your clit. You cried out. He altered between teasing licks and stronger lapping as you chanted his name.

Matt wrapped his lips around your little bud and sucked. You almost screamed. Your legs began to tremble as you started hurling toward your peak. Then he thrust two thick fingers inside you. Your thighs squeezed his face between them. Close, you were so close . . . then his fingers curled. You fell over the edge calling out his name.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Fingers that continued to work you through your orgasm. His mouth remained latched onto your clit, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Only you started to whimper from oversensitivity did he lift away from your clit. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth. You let out warbling moan as he noisily lapped at your entrance.

By the time he pulled away, you were a limp puddle on your own kitchen counter. Despite your recent orgasm, your cunt clenched again. Because Matt looked thoroughly debauched. His hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, those pink lips swollen and glistening with your slick. While you watched, his tongue slide out and slowly licked it off.

Matt knew you were watching him. It was obvious from the way your heartbeat sped up. The hitch in your already heavy breathing. The fresh slick dripping out of your cunt, even more tempting now that he knew just how sweet you tasted. He settled for the slick clinging to his two fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Not as nearly as good as getting it directly from your cunt but the strangled groan you made watching him do it was its own reward.

Fingers now clean, he carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. Matt heard you shifting, pushing yourself back into an upright position. Then, your hands reached out and tugged his head down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself.

But you didn’t stop there. Your hands leisurely made their way down his torso until you reached his boxers. Your fingers dipped under the waistband, then hesitated.

“May I?” you asked.

“Please,” he answered, eager to see what you would do.

Permission granted, you peeled his boxers down. His cock eagerly sprang free of its confines. As Matt finished pushing his boxers off, you felt a tinge of nerves. His cock hadn’t looked small during your brief glimpse earlier. But it had been flaccid then. Now that his cock was fully erect, you realized he was rather more . . . impressive than you had first thought. Or even imagined and Past You had been rather hopeful that he had a big dick . . .

“Sweetheart?”

The clear concern in Matt’s voice had your head snapping up. He was frowning at you, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know you don’t have do anything, right?” he asked, his tone deadly serious. “If you want to stop right now, we will.”

“No,” you said, rapidly shaking your head. “I want to.”

He frowned, his head titling slightly to one side. Listening, you realized. Doing his human lie detector thing. “But?”

“I’m just a little nervous,” you said, tapping your fingers against your bare thigh.

“Why?” he asked.

You felt your cheeks warm. “It’s . . . um . . . you’re . . . ah . . . bigger. Than any . . . of my exes.”

“Is that so?” Matt looked distinctly smug. “I can be gentle. But if you’d like to wait –”

“No,” you interrupted. Because nerves wasn’t your only reaction to seeing his cock. Feeling suddenly bold, you reached over and wrapped your hand around his cock. And feel another tinge of nerves and anticipation at realizing that Matt wasn’t just long, he was thick. You started stroking him, slowly adjusting the firmness of your grip as you watched the reactions on his face. He moaned, his hands finding their way back to your hips.

You noted, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that he looked a lot less smug now.

Feeling more confident, you continued, “I don’t want to wait. I want this.” Your thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the weeping pre-cum. His hips jerked and out of his mouth came a beautiful groan that you immediately wanted him to make again. “Inside me.”

His hands tightened on your hips. That feral look was creeping back in. “I don’t – ah – have a condom.”

“Don’t want one,” you said. You knew it was a dumb thing to do. Reckless. But you were tired of all of the barriers that had been separating the two of you. The thought of another one just rubbed you the wrong way.

Your hand slide off of his cock. A faint whine escaped his throat. Tempting you to put your hand back. But it felt . . . coercive . . . to be giving him a handjob while asking him if he wanted a condom after you had just made it clear that you didn’t want one. Especially since you knew Matt had a people-pleasing streak.

“But I, um, have a box of condoms in my bedroom. If you’d rather wear one,” you offered, feeling renewed warmth in your cheeks. It had been an impulse purchase during one of those rare periods when you were both determined to tell him your feelings and confident it would go well . . . only to chicken out once you were actually in front of Matt.

“I don’t think many man would rather wear one,” he said. “As long as you were sure . . .”

“I am.”

“Okay,” he said. “When did you buy these condoms?”

There was a peculiar note in his voice. He sounded almost . . . jealous? But that couldn’t be right. Why would Matt be jealous?

“Last month,” you said. “Past Me, um, had a moment where she, ah, . . . was very confident that you’d agree to a date? And that sex might happen afterward?”

A smile spread across his face. “Past You would have been right. Past Matt would have agreed in a heartbeat.”

“What about Current Matt?” you asked, daring to hope.

“Current Matt agrees with Past Matt,” he said. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Your heart gave a leap. “You would?!”

“Of course,” he said, utterly matter of fact. Like he was stating something obvious. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Matt Murdock wanted to go on a date with you. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

“In part because you didn’t know about Daredevil,” he said. “Not telling a one-night stand is one thing. Not telling my girlfriend is something else.”

“Girlfriend?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “If you would like to be.”

“I would like that,” you said, smiling.

“Good,” he said. Then he suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“All the ways I pictured asking you to be my girlfriend,” Matt said. “Standing in your kitchen naked wasn’t one of them.”

“Me neither.” You giggled. “We’ve done this all topsy-turvy.”

“We have,” he agreed. “Normally, I’d take you to dinner before burying my face in your sweet cunt.”

The reminder sent fresh arousal pooling between your legs. Despite that toe-curling orgasm, that particular body part was eager for more. A desire that only increased when his pink tongue darted out to slowly lick his lips. Then he made another soft moan. The same soft moans he had made while eating you out . . . your heart raced as something finally clicked together in your mind.

“Can you taste, um, . . ?” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn. You couldn’t say it.

“How wet that pussy is for me?” Matt said, his eyes darkening. “Yes. Having my mouth on you is better but from the air, the aroma of it, is still . . . intoxicating.”

Part of you was embarrassed. Especially when you thought about this morning, that Matt hadn’t just heard you touching yourself. But another, larger part of you was powerfully turned on. There was something very hot about knowing that just the taste of you, the smell of you, was putting that hungry look on his face.

You squirmed. Then something else occurred to you. “Technically you have taken me to dinner many times.”

“Very true,” Matt said, then chuckled. “Foggy has been saying that we’ve been dating for months.”

“Karen said the same thing,” you said. “Maybe they are right?”

“Definitely,” Matt said. “And we’ve been idiots.”

“Total idiots,” you agreed, then pulled him down for another kiss.

You could still faintly taste yourself in his mouth. Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair. Matt used his grip on your hips to pull you over to the counter’s edge. He pressed himself against you. Despite the intervening conversation, he was still hard. Feeling himself grind his cock against your cunt had felt good before. But now? Without any clothes in the way? It stoked that banked fire inside you into an inferno.

You wanted . . . no, you needed him. You didn’t care that you were in your kitchen. You needed that cock filling your achingly empty cut. You needed him to fuck you stupid.

“Matty,” you whimpered, breaking away from the kiss. “Need you.”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He rumbled against your throat. “What does your pretty pussy need?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Needs your cock. Needs you to fuck me.”

He growled. You expected him to line himself up, to start fucking you right then and there. Instead he shifted his grip to your thighs and lifted you off the counter. Startled, your hands abandoned his hair in favor of his shoulders to steady yourself as he carried you out of the kitchen. Given the small size of your apartment, it didn’t take to figure out where he was taking you.

Sure enough, soon he was lowering you down onto your bed. He kissed you deeply as his knees encouraged your legs wider. Not that you needed much encouragement. He grinded against you, coating his cock in your slick. Sparks raced down your spine every time the head nudged your clit. It was so good. It was not enough. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged. “Please . . . fuck me.”

Which was apparently all he needed to hear. Matt took himself in hand, lining himself up with your entrance. Then, finally, he was inside you. You gasped, nails digging into his back. It was just the tip of him but the stretch was noticeable. Despite the clear hunger on his face, he didn’t move. Stayed right where he was while your cunt fluttered around him until you were ready for more. Slowly, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.

You felt so good. So deliciously full. No one had ever filled you like this. Then Matt started to move, gently rocking his hips into you. Pleasure washed over you with each back and forth movement of his cock so deep inside you. You couldn’t stop moaning. You could feel yourself climbing back toward that precipice.

“Taking me so well,” Matt said, then groaned when your cunt clenched around him at the praise. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”

Your answer was another stuttered moan.

“Words, sweet girl. I need words.”

“More,” you managed to moan out. “More. Mo-”

You were cut off by sharp snap of his hips. His first real thrust into you. You cried out wordlessly. Cries that only got louder as the thrusts got faster and deeper. Instinctively, your hips began to move. You thought he couldn’t get any deeper. You were wrong. As soon as you matched his rhythm, you felt him sink just a little further inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Just like that.”

Matt was always handsome. But there was something indescribably beautiful about how he looked now. The pull and flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of your body. Skin kissed with sweat. Hair, a fluffy chaotic mess. His face, for once, with no sign of worry or stress. Just pure pleasure. The grunts and moans spilling out of his mouth with each thrust only added to the beatific vision on top of you.

Your climax had been steadily building but now you were teetering on that edge. Just a little bit more . . .

Matt must have sensed it somehow because his next thrust was slower but impossibly deep and hard. You gasped, your back arching. He did it again. Your body began to shake, toes curling . . . Close, you were so close . . .!

“Matty,” you whimpered.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

Another impossibly deep thrust and you did.

Matt groaned as your cunt gripped his cock tightly as you cried out his name. He never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were a babbling, shaking mess underneath him.

Only then did he start chasing his release. He pumped into you hard and fast, his entire world narrowed down to you. The delightful pain of your nails raking up and down his back. Your heart pounding in his ears. The guttural noises you made as he fucked you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your cunt as he moved in and out . . . you were so fucking wet. All for him. Because of him.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your cunt kept clamping down on his cock like a vice. Feeling his balls start to draw up, he tried to withdraw. He intended to release himself on your stomach. But you loudly protested, back arching and frantic hands grabbing his ass in a bid to him keep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum,” he managed to grit out.

Your hands only gripped his ass tighter. “Cum inside me. Wanna feel it.”

Truth. “Sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

That did it. He couldn’t resist your begging. With one last hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside you and came.

Breathing hard, it was tempting to collapse on top on you. But he couldn’t. He was too heavy. He carefully pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. Still catching his breath, he gathered you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. Perfect. Matt liked a good cuddle afterward. Didn’t understand what some men had against it. Your soft, naked body against his, smelling like sex and his pheromones? Yes, please.

For a moment, Matt attributed your little restless movements as simply getting comfortable. But quickly he realized that wasn’t entirely it. He reached between your legs. Felt you jolt when his fingers found your clit. Then moaned as he started rubbing gentle circles. You were already very sensitive. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

Matt buried his nose in the back of your neck. In a little while, he’d need to get up and get a washcloth. Clean up the mess he had made between your legs. But not right now. Right now, he was just going to enjoy having you in his arms.

The storm broke that night, after dumping almost ten feet of snow on the Big Apple. The powers that be had crews out clearing the streets and restoring downed power lines bright and early the next morning but it took several days to get the city fully up and running again.

You and Matt weren’t trapped in your apartment the entire time. Just a couple days. Despite the fact that neither of you were used to living with anyone, it was . . . comfortable. You cooked together in your tiny kitchen without much trouble. He did his share of the housework without prompting or complaint. You discovered during the brief power outage that, in addition to being a lie detector, Matt was a human furnace. Also that he was cuddler.

Once his phone was charged enough, Matt called Foggy and let him know that he wasn’t dead. He made Matt put him on speaker-phone so he could tell you both ‘I told you so.’ A sentiment echoed by Marci and Karen. Among many, many others.

The sex continued to be mind-blowing. And frequent. Because you both were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves. A shower became Matt fingering you, then fucking you against the wall. Watching a movie turned you kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth. Blissful Puddle was a very good look on him.

By time Daredevil slipped out of your window on the third night, your cunt had been given quite the workout and you had lost track of your orgasms.

Life went back to normal. Well, as normal as dating a vigilante could be. You worked. Matt saved people, in and out of the courtroom. You and Matt still went on your outgoings together, only with a lot more hand-holding and kissing. And often followed by enthusiastic sex in either your places or his. Matt quickly fulfilled his promise to introduce you to his silk sheets. You were very happy.

Tonight as you headed up to Matt’s apartment, you were filled with curiosity. Matt told you that he had a surprise. Then you reached his door, he pulled his usual trick of opening the door just as you raised your hand to knock. Just to make you jump.

“Having fun, Trouble?” you asked, entering the apartment.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he denied. But his eyes were too filled with mirth to make his protests believable.

“Lie.”

His lips twitched. But you were distracted away from whatever smartass remark that was about to come out of his mouth by movement behind Matt. You looked and to your surprise, it was a cat. A little brown-and-gray tabby standing in front of the slightly ajar bedroom door, its tail curled into a question mark.

“When did you get a cat?”

“I didn’t,” Matt said. “You did.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, assuming you want her.” He smiled. “I promise this one wouldn’t turn into a vigilante.”

“Certain of that?” You asked. The question was only partially teasing. The recent events had only cemented your desire for another feline companion. But, as much as you were happy with how things had worked out, starting to get attached to a cat only to discover that you couldn’t keep it wasn’t fun.

“Very. According to my magic expert, she’s just a cat.”

You filed away ‘magic expert’ as something to pester him about later. “Where did you find her?”

“Dumpster,” Matt answered, his expression turning grim. “Inside a knotted pillowcase.”

You stared at him in horrified disbelief. Not at Matt’s story. You believed him. But at the sheer cruelty. You knew people could be cruel. You weren’t that naive. But it still shocked you.

“Someone actually did that?”

“They did.” His voice reflected the same anger, the same horror, you were feeling. “Not the first time I’ve found something like that. Wouldn’t be the last.”

He took a deep breath. Visibly reigned in his temper, saving it for the streets or the heavy bag. “Normally I take the animals to an all-night shelter but they’re full right now. They’d still find somewhere for her with one of their fosters or something . . . but I found this one by the same dumpster where you found me. So I thought, maybe it was a sign.”

You smiled. The cat redistribution system at work. And that was that. The cat was officially yours.

You named her Blizzard.

END NOTES

Gordian knot is a legendary knot that became a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by bold stroke. Or in this particular case, one which Matt and Foggy dearly wish they could solve with one bold stroke.

That red light/red lenses thing comes from Wikipedia so treat it with the appropriate level of skepticism.

In Nelson vs Murdock, Foggy had every right to be hurt and angry with Matt. But even if it was deserved, doesn’t make what he said less painful to Matt. Personally, I think Foggy had hit that point of angry-hurt where you just want the other person to feel as badly as you do. And since Foggy is Matt’s best friend, he knows exactly which words will hurt the most. Moreover, I think he was too upset that tonight to really absorb Matt’s explanation about his senses. Hence some of his caustic comments during Season 2.

I have no proof that this incarnation of Matt has ever worn a beard. But shh, we’re having fun here.

It is my understanding that New York City during August is not only hot but miserably humid.

[redrobin-detective]

Simon Petrikov headcanons

Only child, had loving parents who supported him but often left him alone for long stretches of time. An eager, empathetic child, he craved relationships with others and struggled to find them. The people he cares for, he loves completely and with everything he has.

He and Betty were such an obnoxious couple. They were each other's first everythings and became attached at the hip from the moment they started dating. They did everything together, mostly because it was Betty helping Simon with all his books and expeditions and research. Dated 2 years before proposing and things fell apart not long after. Simon had his doctorate while Betty was finishing hers, they planned the wedding for after she got her degree.

Was in his mid-late 30s when he first put on the crown. He'd just gotten his PhD and proposed to Betty and was at the happiest point in his life. Secretly believed but never really acknowledged that the reason Betty disappeared is that he accidentally killed during during his first bout of crown induced madness. That lingering grief and guilt was a major driver of his later princess kidnapping mania, seeking out the princess his heart knew was gone. He calmed down again once he realized Betty was alive.

After Betty disappeared, he became a hermit to avoid hurting others and the War happened a few years later. He was affected enough by the crown's magic to not suffer from the radiation sickness. He met Marcy a few years after.

Always wanted children, even when he'd been a child. Was somewhat resigned to it never happening until he met Betty. One of their first big discussions as a couple was about their mutual desire for kids. They both wanted a big family.

Has a somewhat addictive personality which is one reason why he could never truly abandon the crown. Goes through phases with food where he'll only eat a certain thing for months on end. Smoked like crazy, he was trying to quit because it bothered Betty but never quite managed. Even a thousand years later, he still wakes up sometimes craving a cigarette.

Is actually quite different physically from modern humans. Future humans only have 4 fingers and toes, they also have a slightly different internal organ structure that evolved post-war. Simon and humans give each other slight uncanny valley vibes, facial/skeletal shape is mostly the same but a bit tweaked that they can tell something is off slightly. Oooans live longer, are more durable and have more flexible bones. Simon nearly faints when he sees Finn bend his arms in ways that's impossible for him.

Simon retains some effects of the crown. His dark brown eyes became a piercing light blue after that first time and never went back. While he loses all magical ability, he has a higher sensitivity towards it. Has a crazy high physical cold tolerance and can survive temperatures that would harm a normal person. However, his mental tolerance for cold is low. Hates being cold and bundles on layers whenever it's chilly.

He didn't keep memories well while as Ice King. When he came back to himself he found he remembered cold hard facts he learned as IK (names, events, general history of Ooo) but personal memories were only 'dreamlike impression'. People will tell him things he did and Simon will not remember, he finds it very upsetting. Every now and again, a memory will bubble up and no matter what he's doing he'll need to hide away out of embarrassment.

A musical prodigy, someone who can pick up and learn instruments quite easily. Could have done music professionally if he'd been so inclined but preferred it as a hobby. In order of proficiency it was piano -> keyboard -> harmonica -> acoustic guitar -> fiddle -> violin -> ukulele*. *Can only play his and Betty's song which he sang when he proposed.

Drums was never an instrument he learned pre-crown, it was never something he wanted. He learned as Ice King, a way to express his innate musical talent in a medium that fit the cursed king. Plays intermittently after being freed but it takes him years before he becomes comfortable with them.

Taught Marcy the basics of guitar while they traveled together. She'd already expressed an interest in music and he was happy to teach her and sing to her as a way to keep up her spirits. Often joked guitars weren't his specialty but they were easier to find/more portable in an apocalyptic world.

Every couple of months, he and Marcy will pick a venue and play together. Its never announced, they just show up someplace and start playing. The audience goes wild but they're just having having a little family jam session.

Goes grey early. He has a massive panic attack when he first noticed streaks of white in his hair. He thought he was turning back into Ice King before he realized he was just getting old. Its a concept just as foreign and frightening.

It took a long time for Simon to admit what Marcy was to him, it felt presumptuous to think of her as his own when he could barely provide for her and was slowly losing his sanity. Meanwhile Marcy saw him as a parental figure right away. They've since talked about it and acknowledge it but just call each other Marcy and Simon for simplicity's sake. Sometimes, when she's feeling fond she'll call him 'old man' and it makes him feel like a king.

Marcy has a serious fear of Hunson taking offense to Simon filling in the father role. Its one reason she doesn't call him dad even if she feels it. Hunson is cruel and apathetic and possessive. She won't risk Simon falling victim to his petty whims.

Worked hard to make up his past behavior to the people he'd hurt. Many were forgiving but some weren't and he had to learn that some people would never accept his efforts. Took a long time for he and PB to get on good terms. Bubblegum holds grudges and Simon was so ashamed over his actions he would've avoided her if not for Marcy. For her sake, the two of them painfully, awkwardly made peace with each other. They're now quite friendly and even hang out occasionally without Marcy.

Is super uncomfortable around Gunter/Ice Thing for a while. Takes him awhile to work up the nerve to go back to the Ice Kingdom. Ice Thing thinks of Simon as his father and refers to him as such which initially flusters Simon but he gets used to it. They're friendly, but not really close. Ice Thing houses the majority of Simon's book/artifact collection until he donates it to museums. Simon visits every now and again for research purposes and to see the penguins who mutually miss him. The more Simon feels separated from Ice King the easier time he has with Ice Thing.

Everyone but Finn realizes that Simon has basically adopted him. Finn continues to live with Jake until he dies then alternates between crashing at Marcy's, PB's and Simon's place and disappearing on quests for months at a time. Simon worries and dotes on the young human: making meals, keeping his place clean and generally being supportive until Finn is a bit more stable. Finn's obliviousness to Simon's paternal feelings makes him back off a bit more into friend territory but he still worries.

Simon not only moves out of his museum apartment but also out of the floating human city. It isolated him up there, being so unrelatable to the other humans. Moves back down to Ooo and Bubblegum gets him set up with a big house with plenty of extra bedrooms for his friends kids to stay in.

After the events of F&C, he throws himself into his third chance with a gusto. Still has bouts of depression and anxiety the rest of his life but its more controlled. He helps formalize education across the board and creates the first higher education institute in Ooo. Teaches not only about pre-war history but becomes the historian on the history of Ooo. Keeps records, writes books and does interviews that help capture the world which are referenced far into the future. While he will always be associated with Ice King, Simon makes a name for himself as well.

[fictionalsillies]

🦆 Introducing : me

( ⚠️ very important disclaimer : I’m not in a position where I can donate money , so please do keep this in mind when sending me asks !

Also my inbox might momentarily close from time to time , it will reopen as soon as I get the chance to reply to the asks I received to make sure I don’t leave any behind 👈 )

………………………………………🌼………….……………………………

Just realized that I didn’t even make a blog to introduce myself yet , so I finally decided to get it done at long last :,)👍

Please be sure to read this if you’d like to know more about me and this profile’s rules !

stimboard made by @charlies-crushes

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                            ⋆ ★ GENERAL INFO

You can call me Lotty , both she/her and they/them pronouns are fine with me and my hobbies include mostly drawing silly stuff related to my favorite fictional characters and my original characters/self inserts ( they kinda fall in the middle of these two categories , some are more similar to me than others but they’re all a way to insert myself in my favorite stories :]👍) ;

I’m a huge fan of anything animated , especially independent projects on YouTube like Monkey Wrench , Lackadaisy , Murder Drones , Atlas and the Stars , TADC eccetera :)

There’s also a variety of games I like , such as Hollow Knight , Night in the Woods , Ori and the Blind Forest and many more !

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                            ⋆ ★ F/Os and S/Is List

( this list can be subjected to changes and updates )

Jaw Bone ( Monkey Wrench ) —> Jade

-Status : current primary crush , will likely avoid to check out content related to other ships with him ( to clarify , I’m never mad at anyone for liking the same character as me or for enjoying pairing him with someone else ! It’s merely a decision I made for my own emotional benefit :)👍)

Bea ( NITW ) —> Sarah

-Status : neutral sharing , I actually enjoy some ships with her and other canon characters like MeaBea

Godseeker ( Hollow Knight ) —> Lihm

-Status : neutral sharing

Baroness Von Bon Bon ( Cuphead ) —> Crème

-Status : neutral sharing

╰┈➤ Comfort Characters

Lucifer and Rosie ( Hazbin Hotel , also while I really like these two characters I don’t consider myself a supporter of Vivziepop )

Ori ( OATBF and OATWOTW )

Mordecai ( Lackadaisy )

Krobus ( Stardew Valley )

Perrito ( Puss In Boots TLW )

Monika ( DDLC )

Entrapta ( SPOP )

Double Trouble ( SPOP )

Raine ( The Owl House )

Marcy ( Amphibia )

Narrator ( The Stanely Parable )

Quirrel ( Hollow Knight )

Snatcher ( AHIT )

Commander Peepers ( WOY )

Bruno ( Encanto )

Elsa ( Frozen )

The Spot ( Spiderman ATSV )

Spiderman Noir ( Spiderman ITSV )

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  ⋆ ★ ART REQUESTS

- Current status : CLOSED , with an exception for my closer moots { I tend to get anxious about receiving too many requests and becoming too overwhelmed to draw them all : this has happened before in other occasions and it was a pretty stressful time for me , so that’s the only reason why I’m putting this limit 👍}

{ also I’m more likely to draw self shipping/oc x canon related ships related requests , it’s kinda my thing at this point ^^” }

{ oh - and I would prefer not receiving anything heavily nsfw ( though mildly suggestive elements are okay-ish , depends on what the request is about ) : I’m not able to draw that kind of thing anyway because of my less-than-great anatomy , so that’s a no-no :T }

╰┈➤ ART TRADES

-Current status : OPEN-ish { not always able to accept due to irl matters keeping me busy , it really depends on the time }

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                            ⋆ ★ RULES ( very important )

I’m not a fan of pro-shipping and all things related to it since it makes me pretty uncomfortable , so if you’re into that I’d rather have you block me and not interact with my profile , or the other way around . Also needless to say , but if you’re homophobic or racist in any way you definitely aren’t welcome here .

I get incredibly anxious when receiving private messages without warning , so please just ask me beforehand weather or not I’m down to chat either in my inbox or my blogs , or just say something other than just “hi” in the message ! Overall , private messages as a whole just make me nervous , I prefer not using them unless it’s absolutely necessary ( plus I almost never check them , so I’m not the best at keeping the conversation interesting … I’m the most awkward human on the planet when it comes to that stuff .-. )

I can find myself too busy to hang here at times , so if it takes me a while to respond it’s definitely not because I have something against you in any way : this isn’t an excuse , but I do also suffer from adhd , so it’s possible for me to forget about some stuff while struggling to focus on everything else … yeah ;C;

Some of my posts may include occasional swearing sometimes : I keep it to a minimum , but I thought it would be good to bring this up in case anyone is uncomfortable with it .

If by chance I ever happen to draw something mildly suggestive ( I’m never going to do anything fully NSFW tho !! ) , I’ll always be sure to put a warning at the start of the blog 👍

( also this profile’s theme might change from time to time based on which character I’m currently obsessing over ://] ❤️ )

[phantom-shell]

Hi! In episode seven Bonnie starts talking about how Marcy and the vampires are low on food, and I'm assuming it's around thirteen years later, how are the vampires still thriving?

I'm so glad you asked. They're only barely thriving. :)

Most of the vampires are disgusted by the idea of consuming red instead of blood- It's also important to mention that the humans are not the only ones with blood; Some vampires switched to animal blood, some swallowed their pride and started eating red (The VK does both and is content with it. Marceline is not.), but a lot of them starved themselves to death due to their own stubbornness and refusal to let go of "the old ways".

There are also some other living beings who AREN'T human, that are still around (proven by Billy's corpse in the episode), though they hide themselves well, as to not get captured and used as bloodbags for the vamps.

As for the humans... there are VERY few that are still alive- To the point where Bonnie is almost convinced that Finn is the last human left. Finn doesn't want to believe that.

With all that said and done, even with limited food sources and additional challenges, the vampires are still strong and on top of the food chain, ruling the world.

[pascallatte]

Little Duck

Pairing/s:Pedro Pascal x actress!reader, Sarah Paulson x platonic!reader

Summary: The pair, Sarah Paulson and Pedro Pascal were asked about their close relationship with the rising star Y/N L/N

Date: October 2012

Warnings: y/n isn't here but is mentioned (not a warning but it needed to be stated), other than that no warnings.

A/n: hi this is the first point for this series, they are still friends here completely platonic, just had to build up the series before you know. Also, feel free to ask questions about the series and hopefully, you guys like this. 

“ Hello everyone, we are here at the special red carpet event where dozens of artists from all over the country are coming together to enjoy such a great cause,” the female interviewer greeted the audience.

“ And it is with great honour, that I present to you our first pair on the red carpet, the one and only Sarah Paulson and Pedro Pascal.”

The camera zooms in on the pair before it follows them to the area where they were about to be interviewed.

Smiling to the camera the pair positioned themselves on the right of the interviewer and shook her hand.

“ Thank you both for talking with us, a while ago I said I’m gonna go and talk with the first pair that walks down that carpet before escaping and chugging down whatever’s in the drinks section,” The interviewer said that resulting in small laughs from the pair.

“ So uhm, what does it feel like to be the first ones to walk on this very special event tonight?” She then proceeded to ask them as the pair looked at each other.

“It’s pretty cool yeah like it’s an honour for us to start off this event as it has been highly anticipated in the past year,” Sarah softly said as she nudges Pedro to speak.

“Yeah it just makes us feel better than everybody else,” he casually states as the interviewer bursts out laughing.

“ Why did you both sign up for this, was it the attraction of last year’s special event or did you just get invited?” She asks

“For me, it was a little bit of both, but I mean-actually I wasn’t even supposed to be here Y/N was, but she got sick last minute so she called me and asked me to take her place,” Sarah nods towards the camera as she explained their situation.

“ Oh! That’s unfortunate,” the interviewer said as Pedro perked up and nodded.

“Yes, really unfortunate but we were kind of expecting that she would get sick after all those activities she’s done the past week, so she hasn’t really got time to rest.” Pedro then told the interviewer who looked like she was about to ask the reason for her sickness.

“And while we are on the topic of the Y/N L/N, I’m gonna take the chance to ask you what is your guys’ relationship with her, since you've been seen with her throughout the year, like when did it start? What made you guys add her to your little friend group?” She prodded as she looked at the pair.

The two burst out laughing as the past events filled their mind.

“ Yes, uhm we- rather I kind of adopted y/n back when we got cast together in the movie “Martha Marcy May Marlene", and at some point, we began to grow close and our bond really shook both our worlds.” Sarah shared their history with a large smile before pointing to Pedro who was standing there with a smile of his own.

“But this guy, only met her last January at my new year’s eve party but was seen with her too many times than I have been seen with her since last year,” she stated as a matter of fact as Pedro giggled at the memory.

Shocked the interviewer looked back and forth before composing themselves.

“Are you serious Pedro? I cannot believe that what you’re telling me is true. So, you just met y/n a few months back yet you two looked as if you’ve known each other for years. What can you tell me about this? Any story you can tell us?” The interviewer directed to Pedro who was seen shrugging with a fond look on his face.

“ Yes, uhm I- I mean y/n isn’t a hard person to know 'cause she’s like an open book and a very conversational person so you know as soon as we were introduced we just clicked and that lead to whatever you guys are seeing floating around now.”

“ Yeah, they clicked so much that they even hang out without me. IMAGINE THAT I, who introduced them to each other, was being left out. I sense a betrayal going on.” Sarah teased Pedro who started laughing as he rested his hands on her shoulders before kneeling down and begging for her forgiveness.

The interviewer laughed with them before asking a couple more questions about their future and current projects.

“So that is all for tonight, once again thank you Sarah and Pedro for your time and we’re hoping to see you guys soon and hopefully with y/n.” The interviewer closed up the interview.

“Ah yes thank you too, and we agree on the part that y/n needs to be here on our next red carpet.” Sarah pointed to the camera.

“ So little duck eat up and drink up, you are missing on a lot of fun, get well soon!!” Pedro screamed to the mic as the video slowly faded to black.

[aspynnwoofs]

Um. hi. your fanart of Marcy waking up from a nightmare is probably my favorite piece of Amphibia fanart ever. curious what was going through your head when you made it. also what are your headcannons/thoughts about The Core, Marcy, what she experienced while under its control, and its lasting effects on her?

holy shit dude, thanks? i don’t know what i did to deserve all this nice stuff you’re saying, but thanks. also the tags on the reblog were not aggressive or mean or anything, they actually made me super happy to see! i’m really glad you like it.

coming back after writing all the stuff, there’s a lot so i’m putting a ‘keep reading’ thing. seriously there’s so much

what was going through my head… hm. it’s like, i imagine Marcy having lots of nightmares about things that happened to her, or things that could have happened, stuff like that. i’ve read a lot of fanfic so now i really like the idea of her clutching her shirt when remembering being impaled. or even just for comfort, to know that her weakest point is covered in moments of terror. also she’s crying. sobbing. the only times she recovers quickly after bad nightmares is when she’s with the others.

i really like the idea of the Core not only sticking her in a box in her mind, but also showing her things. like to keep her from trying to get out. can’t resist if your mind is shattered and devoid of hope! anyway i mean like using the illusions to show her various things, situations, people. more peaceful ones where she’s with her girls, only to realize they aren’t there. terrifying ones where they make her live through her worst memories, her betrayal (of her and by her), her death, her torture and possession. twisted situations where Anne and Sasha proclaim that they can’t be seen with her, they can’t trust her, even hate her for what she’s done. sometimes the Core sticks her in unending darkness so they don’t have to think of anything, or if they’re focused on something else and need her out of the way (this is where the thing about being unable to sleep or feel safe in complete darkness is from). sometimes they’ll make a fake scene where it seems as though she is being shown what her body is doing, she can see through her eyes, and then she hurts people. kills people. sometimes it will be real, but she doesn’t know that, and she will still hurt people. when whoever in the Core in charge of her is feeling particularly cruel, they’ll do a simulation of her being saved. rescued. freed. forgiven. she’s finally with her girls. but. she isn’t. she’s still here. of course they didn’t save her, why would they? she’s a horrible person, and she did so much unforgivable stuff? why would they ever want to save someone like her? (shit this is long, yeesh. well i’m having fun soo-) sometimes Anne and Sasha kill her as she’s possessed, because she needs out of the way, and her life doesn’t matter anyway. sometimes they free her and then take their fury at her out on her by hurting her.

recovery from that is incredibly hard. when she’s rescued, she doesn’t believe it. firmly denies it, hides from them, tries to keep them from hurting her, curls into a ball and refuses to acknowledge them. because they aren’t real, they aren’t. hasn’t she been through this enough? it takes the others a while to convince her she’s in reality, and that yes, they do really forgive her. she’s actually completely free.

later in life she has trouble discerning reality from her nightmares. she has insane trust issues. she can’t walk, not by herself. she’s terrified of fire, because fire is what impaled her, killed her, and fire is the color of the eyes that haunt her. a small zap of static electricity is enough to send her into a flashback of her possession, of the chair, of fire and lightning and code flowing into her, burning burning burning. once someone tried to calm her by grabbing her wrists, which only sent her further. the cuffs. they chained her down. she can’t move she can’t move! the color orange makes her nervous, if there’s too much of it she half convinced they’ve taken over somehow and tinted her vision the color of her nightmares. (looking at this you’d really think i’d be able to write something. i should write something) sudden complete darkness, such as someone turning off a light without warning, has her half believing whatever just happened wasn’t real, that the Core got bored and stuck her in the darkness. sound and small lights can help her come back to reality. sound because the Core wouldn’t let sound into their void, that would defeat the point! and small lights because if it all comes back quickly it just means the simulation has been turned back on. better to show her something small but concrete. Anne and Sasha have gotten really good at realizing when she needs a reality check, and then knowing her to ground her. (btw she doesn’t move away because i need her to have a support system. she might actually go crazy if she’s separated from her friends) ( whAT THE FUCk-?? this is so long! i need to wrap up! holy shiiiit) Marcy likes to hold their hands to help her remember where she is. physical touch is very grounding. the Core could never get it right so it’s even more so. after some nightmares she flinches from touch, so other things are needed, but once she’s returned from the hell in her mind she needs touch. sometimes weighted blankets help to ground her when she feels as though she might almost float away, sometimes they chain her down and trap her beneath the weight of all her mistakes.

there’s probably more, but if i kept going i’ll just have written a whole ass fic in an ask answer. hope you liked it! if not idk what i can give you (you’ll like it, because it’s great)

i don’t think i’ve ever written things out like things before, i should do that more. it helped to have specific questions, so thanks man i guess? heh.

[sagesilentfire]

Hello, everyone. It's so strange to be saying this, but the last part of SAMATFOE is imminent, and we're getting closer and closer to the End. It's been a really fun five years. (Four to ya'll, but I've been working on this for longer than I've been talking about it publicly!) The cast of characters has expanded dramatically, I've gotten much better as a writer and artist, and I feel I've grown as a person too. I won't stop stalking the svtfoe tag or talking about svtfoe after this is done, don't worry, but I have a lot of non-svtfoe related plans in the future, so if you like Sílthéy and her weird siblings, don't stop following when SAMATFOE is over. 

But as for the actual contents of s5, well, I've got lots of plans. We've got a dark magic plague that's an incredibly transparent metaphor for climate change. We've got Mina playing the oil barons and trying to stop everyone from saving the world for her own personal gain. We've got Glossaryck (capitalism). We've even got the answers to a lot of mysteries and character arcs. Like, so many character arcs. It has been incredibly difficult to stuff all these character arcs into this far-too-short piece of fanfiction. But I hope I did that adequately. 

On a personal note, while hiring a beta/sensitivity reader for a piece as massive as SAMATFOE proved impossible for someone who does not own their own money, I have done a lot more research than I had at seventeen. I wanted the monsters to be more than just badly-done allegories for Native Americans – I wanted them to be people with their own culture, history, and ideas. People who are inspired by real-world Indigenous cultures, but, because they're literally nonhuman, are distinct from them. Whether or not they could count as Indigenous is discussed in-text, but I do not come to an actual conclusion because I want my readers to draw their own. It's not my place to say whether colonized space aliens could be Indigenous. And their connection to the land and to magic is drawn from their shared knowledge, not mysticism, and their culture is idealized because a caring godlike entity helped them to that, not because they're better than anyone. I hope to demonstrate that they are all people, first and foremost. Because we're going to be spending time in Septarsis! So much time! And Toffee has officially been promoted to main character status! It's Star and Marcie AND the Forces of Evil, babey!

But there's a lot of characters here. So, for the second and final time, 

Dramatis Personae:

Star - Star doesn't know what to do. She has everything she ever wanted, even if she doesn't realize it. She has no future responsibilities, having passed that to Eclipsa, but she is still special and important, being the most powerful magic-user ever to exist and the only one who can fix the dark magic, and Toffee doesn't even seem to hate her. Sílthéy does, though, and that is a sticking point. Star is much less oblivious now, though even her oblivious former self would probably pick up on the bad vibes Sílthéy is actively sending her way. She wants everyone to see how hard she's working to make everything better, but Sílthéy doesn't, and that is unbearable. Add that to Shinjai avoiding her and Marcie growing distant, and she has very little time for introspection, even if that would help fix things.

Marcie - Marcie is done with Mewni. She can't believe she believed the Butterflys' lies for so long. She's going to devote herself to Septarsis as fervently as she did Mewni. She just... she doesn't want to bother anyone, or take anyone's time. Why should she get attention paid to her, when there are stronger and smarter magic users out there who could do so much to actually help the world? Marcie is small and useless, and clearly so easily tricked. Better to work on herself before she brings anyone else into her orbit. Also, Star keeps making bad decisions, and Marcie's boundaries are pushing her away too... maybe it's better to do everything alone.

Ludo - Ludo is having a great time! He's earned the trust of some of the monsters in the Avarius village, his plumbing has been fixed, and Pemma is teaching him how to use the Avarius Beacon! Certainly nothing bad is going to happen to him or anyone he cares about! :D

Buff Frog - I'll confess here: Buff Frog is not a huge part of s5. He'll appear in the finale, but he's not a fighter anymore, and lives a peaceful life in Septarsis. He still has fond feelings for Star, but he's not too worried about her. She's strong, and he has twelve young froglets to take care of. She'll be fine on her own... right?

Toffee - Una'met Co'tzin-Nekohtzaca, Last Child of Old Septarsis, The Forces of Evil, Kéta'cha For the Dragon of Space, is doing FINE. They're definitely not five bad seconds away from a total mental breakdown, definitely not, that would be bad for everyone involved, and they are a calm, peaceful, certified not-doing-bad-things-er. The fact that everyone is almost certainly going to die a horrible death from dark magic is fine. They just have to cram thirty-plus years of training into the rapidly-dwindling time before the entire multiverse is dead. They barely know Star Butterfly, except that she's too good for things like "basic training" and "reading." How are they going to do this? And why won't Sílthéy tell them why she caused this in the first place? Well, they do know one thing, which is they can't tell Star about that.

Jackie - Jackie is done with Star Butterfly. She's talked to... someone, and done some digging, and that only served to verify the book she was given in s4. She doesn't know anything about Mewni save for what the book told her, but she can't believe that she trusted the family that doomed her dimension.

Janna - Janna doesn't like this apocalypse. No chance of survival is boring. So she's going to do what she can to help out. Also, she's been keeping her own secrets, secrets that might hold the key to survival.

Tom - Tom isn't angry anymore. He's not angry at Eclipsa for keeping Miquiz locked up, he's not angry for the Butterflys for spreading the dark magic that's thrown the Underworld into chaos, he's not angry that he keeps being left out of things. He's. Not. Angry. Anymore!

Moon - Moon didn't kill her mother. She didn't. It was Toffee, Toffee who couldn't come up with some loophole, Toffee who couldn't forget a conversation that happened when they were a child, Toffee who aimed the arrow at Comet's chest. And her holding onto anger isn't what's driving Star away from her, it's Toffee. They're the one driving her daughter away from her! But as cold reality and remaining dark secrets loom behind her, her brittle facade is beginning to crumble.

Glossaryck - Glossaryck misses when he and Star got along. Yeah, he's destroying her dimension, and everyone in it, and her, all to win kudos from his family, but it really sucks that Star won't give him the time of day anymore. He used to be her wise old mentor! Geez, she was going to die anyways, that's what mortals do! Might as well get along before it happens!

River - River is tired of being left out of the loop. He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know what to do. Moon barely speaks to him, she's always busy with Eclipsa, or whatever. But he might be the thing Moon needs, if she would only let him in.

Angie - Angie doesn't know if she should have had Mariposa. Sure, Mari is wonderful, and she loves her, and she DID NOT have a baby to replace Marcie dear god why were the svtfoe writers like that – *ahem* but the multiverse is ending, and Mariposa is just a baby... she didn't want to bring a baby into this world just to have them all die.

Rafael - Rafael is worried about Star. He's worried there's nothing he and Angie can do to help her. He's worried about Marcie. She seems really stressed about the dark magic. But he's the calm, goofy dad, so he's going to keep being that, and praying it'll help somehow. 

Mariposa - Mariposa is fresh to the world, and doesn't understand much of anything yet. But everyone is worried she won't survive long enough to understand the world at all.

Kelly - Kelly is chilling. Apparently Star and Marcie are off on a trip to Septarsis, but that's none of her business as long as art classes and hangouts with Nova and Jorby go well. She might drop by to visit, though.

Miss Heinous - Saint Olga is dead. Miss Heinous's one reason for existing, her greatest love and greatest enemy, the robot who raised her, is dead. What does Miss Heinous do now?

Meteora - Meteora's doing great. She's won popular opinion, she's training to be a true Crown Princess, or at least a high-ranking official, if Sílthéy's democracy takes off. She's stepped into her role as a leader, far more than her mother could claim. But that's fine. Not everyone is suited for leadership.

Eclipsa - Eclipsa has an albatross around her neck. She is doing her best to ignore it, to be a good queen, to love her people, but... she cannot get away from the child she killed. Would it be easier if she was just always evil, not done one evil act out of rage and grief? Well, she knows what happened to her mother. What does she do now?

Globgor - Globgor is doing his best. He's a little miffed by Sílthéy mistrusting him, as her first big act of s5 will be to demonstrate how little he's valued as a Legitimate Voice of the Monsters, but really, who can complain. There's so much else going on, who cares if he fades into the background?

Shinjai - Shinjai gets the wand. Shinjai does not want the wand, and the circumstances surrounding her getting the wand are ridiculous, but she gets it, and she hates it, and she can't control it. Unlike Star, her inability to control the wand makes her not want to use the wand at all lest she hurt someone with it. Oh, and Star keeps wanting to teach her fun spells now that she's been handed this nuclear bomb of a magic wand, and Shinjai does not want to deal with Star. She hasn't forgiven Star. She doesn't want to forgive Star. She'll ignore Star as much as she can, and focus instead on Alice and the teen militia, which is much more fun. She loves Alice. She loves learning to fight, learning to battle the most dangerous people in the multiverse and win WITHOUT the help of a wand. She'd be doing great, if her past would stop knocking at her door.

Rasticore - Rasticore's worried about his partner. Una is fraying at the seams trying to fix everything, and he has the feeling they're not telling him something. But what else is new? He'll wait. He has friends to make, a new teenage militia to help train, and a Miss Heinous to keep from destroying Septarsis stone by stone. He's endlessly patient. When Una wants to talk to him, he'll be there for them. He just... has... to... wait...

Mina - Mina is trying to destroy the world. She doesn't tell her followers that, no, they don't even know the dark magic is a thing, but she wants Glossaryck to win and the Solarian Age, of which she is the last remnant, to end everything with it. So she'll destroy the world, and fulfill Solaria's dream of taking the Forces of Evil with her.

Lilacia - Lilacia is, somehow, a spoiler. Like, legitimately, the Princess Formerly Known as Ponyhead's role in s5 is a spoiler, and not for magic power-up speech cliché reasons. But she's still her dumb, ditzy self, of course.

Still Unnamed Mystery Character - "Stella" is still mysterious, but I promise you we'll get who she is and her backstory in this part ;)

Alice - Alice is wary of the new Mewman presence on the outskirts of Septarsis. She knows why they're there, but she's still extremely suspicious. She does not want them to hurt Septarsis. But she doesn't know that the true danger comes a little closer to home.

Teyauh - Teyauh is also a spoiler, but she'll be there!

Linda - Linda loves her wife, and will follow her anywhere, but Teyauh will have to accept that her knees don't work how they used to, so Linda will have to follow in a suit of POWER ARMOR, BABY!

Nova - Nova is part of the Nuxalkmc, an Indigenous tribe native to the Northwestern Turtle Island, and she loves that about herself. Now that Kelly and her dimensional scissors are here, she can finally explore the multiverse to find new places and see if they're anything like home. Septarsis is one of those places, and she loves it at first sight.

Dr. Edevane - Dr. Edevane is a doctor. He and Toffee have a lot to nerd out talk about together. He will be useful, too.

Dennis - Dennis is busy reigning in dozens of siblings, including Ludo. It's a busy life, but a happy one. Nothing bad whatsoever will happen to him! (I'm lying)

Chloe - Chloe doesn't know this "Star Butterfly" person, but she's very suspicious. But man, Mewni would be such a cool place to visit... so much magic! ...No, she needs to concentrate on being mad. And she is mad. She wants Earth to be like Mewni, like it deserves to be.

Hekapoo - Hekapoo doesn't like her dad's plan. He says it'll work out, it's fine, but the plan is... questionable. She doesn't like it. And she definitely isn't getting conflicting feelings about puppeteering her brother around, either...

Rhombulus - Ṯ̶̡̧̧̡̧̠͉̻̦̜̭͚̰̪̣̬̠̦̲̹̯̯̮̹̰̺̣̳̬̳̬͙̙̞̹͚͖̼̲̰̼̻̭͇̘̻̹͔̝͌͐̀̇̓̀́̄̇̓̊̚ͅH̶̛̠̽̎̇̽̉̃̔͒̽̈́͌͝Ȩ̸̢̧̛̛͔̭͍̪͈͚̮̘͙̭̳͍̺͖̗͇͍̘̱̉̽͑̆̌̓̆͛̓̌̈́̐̾͑̅͂͗̔̽̌̋̈́̎̈́́̓̓͌̆̄͐̀̋̅͂̒̓̔͗̈͊̊͆̄̒͘͘̚͘͝͝͠͠͠͠ͅ ̷̧̪̰͈̺̯̳̙̳̹̙̣͔̗̜̫̗̲̠̙̝̠̯̻̯̩͈͇͉̞̙͙͈̲̻̹̰̳̣̤̣̀́̐͆͜͜͜ͅͅK̵̨͎̙̩͓̘͇̳̩̲̝̳̼̖̯̘͖̹͙̪̰͙͔̤̭̘͖̖̪̬͓͚̫̦̝̠͍̙̊͛̏̈́͛́̒̈́͂͜͜͜͝ͅÍ̸̡̧̨̨̥͍̮̮͇̟͈͙̩̥͙̥͖͚͉̬̟̻̹̰̟̘͓̪̦̹͈̺̤̜̣̺͉̘͕̮̲͓̳͍͈͍̜̯̯̘̪͙̩͛́̐̆̈́͗͋̔̐̒̌̚͜ͅT̵̨̟̲̑̅̑̕̚T̶̨̨̨̛̞͖̻̖̞̹̜͉̦͓̣̠̗̘̣̺̲̹̘̻͎̤̝̤̜̞̜̳̭͎̲͙̮͓͕̼͇̘̃̈́̑̅͐̆͛͊̎̀̈́̔̐̂͛͒̎̕͜͜Ę̴̟̻͍͓̲̙͙̬̺̖̘͎̺̯͐̍̀͊̊̃̃̐̒̊̽̅̉̒̇̎̒͗͆̓͋͂̍̎̈̓́́͌̈͌̕͘̕̕͜͝͝͠͝͝Ņ̷̡̥͕̞̘͙͇̪̺̯͕̪͖̗̙͖̭̻̳͙͖̯̺̟̳̟̪̼̤̞̘̯̘̥̏́̊̾̓̀͐̑̈́͛͊͜͝͝͝S̸̨̨̨̡̤͕͚͈̻̯̫̯̦̖̣͈͔͉͚̠̪̮͚̳͈͇̯̱̯̙̙̬͎̝̪̬̦̙͇̝̲̤̰̃͒̓͒̾̀̋̎̊̈̀́̐̎̇͜͝ͅ ̵̧̧̛̣͉͕̤̻͔̰̜̺̮̘̞̠͓͚̹̗͒͐̽́̆̈́́̏̀̎̋͌̔́̌͗̎̍̉̀̃͌͂̎̽̿̃͂̎̽̌̈́̄́̀́̓̿̅́̎͆̾̆͑͌̔̿̑́́̕̕̕͝͝͝M̸̢̡̨̭͓̘͙̟̩̦͎̤̟̮̤͍͔̝̑̀̅̊̑̊́̂̈͑̽͋̃̑͋͐̆͆͊̈́́̋͑̋͜͝I̸̡̛̖̺͇͎͕̗̹̦̦̻̻̙͈͔̮̭̤̺͚͙͙͖̱̙͚̣̼̠̺̘̐̄͋͒̒͗̎̓͐͗͛̊̀̓̄̅̆̇̐͒̄̌̔͗̒̎̃̒̊̍̋͐̊͛͘͠͝͝͠S̴̨̡̡̨̲̖̺̭̺̱̰͎͓͇̰̙͙̩̯̺̖̲̥̜͖̦̙̹̜̻͙̠͉͇̲̲͍̞͚̭̯͕͋͐̌̾̈́̄͐̇̔͜͝͝Ş̴̢̨̢̝̬̤̯̗̞̳̟̞̲̠̮͇̻͙͖̻̜̺̘̑̑̆̈́̇͋͗͒͒́̅́́̚̕͝ ̷̨̡̡̛̛͚̩̣̠̠̹̘̟̼̘̤͇͖͓̙̺̙̮͚̫̺͖̠͇͙̏̆̋̆̀̅̓̔͋̐̐͛̃̾̃̿̓́̑̇̏̈̉͊̂̍̾͑̐̈́̀̑͑̈́̏͗̇͋̀̆́̍̊̃̀͐͘̚̚͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅḨ̶̨̧̻̺̟͚̠͍̗͙̗̹͇̗̦͔͕̮̦͖͔̝͚̟̖̖͉̾̔͒̓̋̀̔̅̿̈̑͆̀̇̇̄̈́́͋̿͐͆̔̂̈́͋̈́̊̊̈́̓̈́͋̕͘͝͝͝I̷̡̡̢̨̹͎̼̻̖̗̭̫̩̣̬̻̦̠̗̰̥͕̗̟̯̰͉͙̯͖̦͚̟̖̞͍̦̙̯̲̲̖̲̲̜͚̓̍͜ͅM̶̧̡̢̧̧̙̥̭̲̖̦͙̘̙͈͓͖̩̜̦͍̦̘͍̘͕̳̜̱͚̥̹͓͕͉͔͕̫̺̮͕̳͖͉̭̺͙̠͖̥͕͖͙̜̉͑͛̎̓̈́͐͋̐̀̏̊̀̽͋̈́͊̄͌̋̌̐̓̄̉̓͒̕̕͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅ

Reynaldo - Reynaldo looks and looks and he does and does, but he does not win this bet. It is the thing he wants most, that he will do all sorts of terrible, horrible-things-that-make-him-want-to-throw-up to get. What is it? 

Omnitraxus Prime - Omni will do anything to protect the multiverse. Including trusting zir dad, who is looking more untrustworthy by the day, and trusting Mina, who was never trustworthy in the first place. Mina has much more training than Star, and strong magical ability from spending three hundred years close to the wand, and it's the best option... right?

Necahua - Necahua is a mess currently, and being a mess leaves you more open to mistakes. Uh oh! Una still loves them, though. 

In fact, I made a short story in my creative writing class about the relationships between Una'met, Necahua, and Cayeto, since I feel they got overlooked in the main story. Yes, no one in my class had any idea what was going on. I'll post it next, before chapters 1 and 2 of s5.

Cayeto - Cayeto is also in the short story. He doesn't play a huge role in the main plot, but he is just another reason Toffee does the things they do. He died hoping that Una and Necahua, specifically, survived, and Necahua died, so he does not have the best grip on reality.

Xocochiapal - Xoco is the de-facto ghost leader of the ghosts now. No legislation without representation, right? Toffee does most of the work, but she's in charge when they can't address a thing right away. She was right despite everyone else blindly going to their deaths, and now everyone knows it. She also was the highest-ranked Septarian to become a ghost, and her hatred of the Mewman occupation is a clear and strong motivation.

Tecoloa - Tecoloa is the voice of reason. The good one. She died protecting her elementary school class from the worst of the heat, and that caring nature has translated into protecting everyone she can. 

Sílthéy - Sílthéy is a character now, and OH BOY is she happy about it. She hates Star and will never get over it, and she loves to remind Star of that fact. She feels immense guilt for what happened with Septarsis, and will never get over that, either. She is a mess, but she's been hiding her messiness for 0/0 years, so she's a pro. And it's not like anyone here can stop her from being a mess, can they? So she'll go on being a mess in her corner, and she'll be fine. Her hobbies include storytelling, dissing Star, and doing the most bizarre stuff in the background of any given scene. She owns her weirdness. She's annoying, but that just makes her more fun to write.

Mocel - Mocel is mad at Eclipsa. She's mad at all Mewmans, really. She cares a lot about Miquiz, and she hates that he's locked up while she, with her lightweight ash body, can sneak out whenever she likes. The world isn't fair, and she knows it.

Miquiz - Miquiz is dying a second time. The dark magic wound on his chest is expanding. He doesn't want to leave, not without seeing the sun again, but he may not have a choice. He doesn't want to leave without saying something to Eclipsa, but again, no choice. He doesn't know what to do.

Tecolo - Tecolo is just vibin. He wants to see Ludo again, and he will, but he's mostly busy having fun with his dead and living relatives after centuries floating in the void.

[starburr]

Post-canon Sashannarcy headcanons because they deserve to be all happy despite the baggage:

Anne would definitely appreciate being called "babygirl" now and then by the other two, sometimes to her detriment because she melts so easily at their beck and call saying how much their girl means to them. Once during her shift, they visited without telling her and she froze up. The kids at the exhibit that day saw her grow as red as a tomato.

Her nightmares are the usual, she's always alone. Sometimes falling into an emptiness that never seems to end, she hates to admit that she'd rather dream about violence. There's something about the emptiness that unsettles her, she scrambles for something to grab onto but there's nothing. The other two wake up most of the time when she does, Sasha's a light sleeper. The first time he saw Anne crying, he didn't hesitate to try and shake her awake. Mostly because of the panic but he meant well, he always does even if he's not the best at communicating it. It helps that he's grown more caring toward the other two. Perhaps out a tinge of guilt, a sense of needing atonement for all the things he's done. Marcy sleeps a little heavier but by no means are they difficult to disturb. The three of them are like a constant feedback loop of reassurances whenever they experience nightmares, or even small moments of vulnerability like the one time Sasha started tearing up out of nowhere. Even if they aren't perfectly readjusted back to society, their lives not being fully set yet, they still are striving to keep what they have possible. They know it is, and would never trade what they have for anything.

Gender dysphoria probably lent to a lot of freakouts and sudden depressive episodes that they have, all of them are both simultaneously sure and unsure of who they want to be. Anne is happy as she is, but cant help but feel the eyes on her when she goes out. Shes been bullied over being a girl before, but she figured if she made it past that point in her life before then sky's the limit. It doesn't bother Sasha that he's sometimes referred to by strangers as "she" when he goes out, he can handle it but he'd rather prefer he/him. Marcy is, well, they're mostly keeping to themselves for most of the time, deadlines to finish and all that. But whenever their partners get home, they burst forth their emotions and appreciation for the other two, knowing how hard it can be to work long hours and deal with shitty people. Even as they fall asleep in bed it's never the same arrangement, but you can expect Marcy to take up the middle space most of the time as the other two snooze wrapped around their arms.

They've helped Sasha bind a few times, although they also recommend not for too long. Its slow progress, but better than none at all they say. Sasha understands enough. As busy as Anne can be, she's very very appreciate of her partners being so caring not just with her, but with one another so she's at least a little more secure in the fact that they don't feel awful when she's away. The three of them aren't one to turn down fancy dinners at work-related gatherings but prefer the simplicity of just the three of them together, munching away whether it be takeout or Anne's homecooking because she loves them that much. It took a while for them to save up for their own house, the economy is still awful but they made it.

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Heyya! Can I request Marcy wu x gn!reader, where after being transported to amphibia Marcy finds them while out on a mission with the newts

Marcy Wu x Reader

A/n: Sorry for the late response (but I'm back on that fanfic grind so it's okay, so sorry) Requests are open!!

Summary: While on mission Marcy finds a person she thought was gone forever. Words: 884 Request: Hell yeah!!

Leaves crumbled under the pressure of several people walking by, cutting through the hedges and bushes, trying to get the thick sticks of theirs to let go of the tree’s trunk. Sighing, one of the Newts cursed under their breath, the Chief Ranger, Marcy, looked back at them, noticing her doing so, they apologized profusely, and with that they retired to the back of the squad. The Chief Ranger looked puzzled but shook it off, looking at the second leader of the mission; Newtopian Army General – General Yunnan.

The tall, pinkish Newt was talking about something related to their current mission and its goal, but Marcy seemed slightly out of it, before focusing on the conversation again. The sun was setting, leaving a shiny marking on Yunnan’s Newtopian-issued armor, her military insignia beamed with a golden flicker. – Our objective is quite easy, compared to the things I’ve done before; secure a shady place in these woods, featuring some kind of camp full of suspected rebels. That’ll be easy enough. – Yunnan said, proudly thinking about the Sand Wars, lost in the memories of her victories and glory. 

The Chief Ranger smiled, since Yunnan is so confident it surely will be the easiest mission they were tasked with yet. Soon, the Newtopian force came to a halt, General looked at her second commander of the mission; Marcy Wu. Looking forward she spoke up. – You, go scout ahead, come back and tell us the situation. – The slender Newt told the girl as she nodded, grinning. 

– You got it General. – She gave Yunnan a thumbs up and headed towards the camp, she had about twenty minutes to get there, at one point deciding to climb up, trying to see if there’s anything before her she should be aware of, seeing nothing she decided to get down. The raven haired girl took out her journal, keeping the track of all things new before her, finally, she got to the camp just to discover it ghostly empty, not a single soul in sight, strolling around, she sketched the small tent and things around it, noting to its very human-like architecture. 

She saw that the tent’s roof was made of clothing with the passionate colors of ivory paired with platinum, almost gold. Marcy, lost in reverie, wondered deeply about the origin of such august, almost regal piece of material in a rugged campsite in the seclusion of this part of wilderness. Her fascination made her quite oblivious to the surroundings around her, otherwise she would’ve noticed a match of two eyes, mirroring the luster of the setting sun. Slowly, the person emerged, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Only if Marcy had her hood off, you would’ve recognized your childhood friend before attacking. 

The blade of your weapon, a small dagger, neatly fit to your palm, dazzled. Showcasing your pupils on its edge. Slowly, step by step, you crept towards the Chief Ranger. Unluckily, you stepped on a branch, the crunch alerting Marcy, she quickly turned around, but to her demise, fell tripping on her cape, and as she looked up to her opponent, a blade made its way to her neck, making her stop in place. Gazing up she saw something she couldn’t believe – her dear friend, one of three lost in Amphibia, you. 

A shocked expression made its way on her face, you were different than she remembered you to be. Scars coating your face, once oh so delicate, now vigorous and rugged. She quickly took notice of your now more athletic, muscular build as you towered above. 

All she could muster out was a one worded question. –  Y/N..? – You looked at her as your face softened, the edge of your blade slightly lowering before you dropped it. – Is it really you? – She said, as she took off her hood leaving you without a doubt. 

You tackled her into a hug as she fell back, both of you laughing and crying tears of joy. You slightly moved, to look down at her and get a full glimpse of your lost flame, both of your faces heated up as you smiled. – Marcy!

Sitting up you gazed at her, she propped herself up on her elbows before going in for another hug, her hands resting on your neck, yours followed soon, missing the contact with her you rested them on her waist, snuggly holding onto her, hiding them under her cape. – I thought I would never see you again.. – You said, breaking the hug and looking at her, your faces just inches away. – Me too… 

Everything felt silent, just for a second, as she stared softly at your lips, as you felt her get more and more tense, you decided to take the initiative. Your face burned as you closed the space between you two, closing it with a kiss. Marcy, shocked, soon melted into the kiss, closing her eyes. The two lovers breaking the kiss only when they finally needed to catch their breath, Marcy looked at you in amazement and shock, you assumed she never really kissed before, which was a fair assumption. 

– I really missed you.. – She said before, hiding her burning face in your shoulder, as you held her close to you, hoping this moment will never end.

[miaaao]

🐝🦂The relationship between Kuai Liang & Cyrax in MK1🐝🦂

I saw many hates towards Kuai Liang for mistreated Cyrax and blamed her for something that's she doesn't know, but I will explain you the relationship between them.

----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

After Bi-han betrayal to him and Tomas, Kuai Liang mentioned that's Cyrax and Sektor loyalty to Bi-han is absolute then him, So they won't listen to him other than follow him.

As Tomas mentioned that's the Lin Kuei won't help them to defeat Titan Shang Tsung because Bi-han has corrupted them.

"But they have at least say something to the old clan rather than leaving without any words."

They are one of the people who were involved at the mission to defeat Titan Shang Tsung, they didn't have the time to ruture back to the Lin Kuei for explanation, Even if this happens after Bi-han betrayal, they may won't listen to them.

----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

Now in Khaos Reigns, When the Lin Kuei crushed Kuai Liang's wedding, after Harumi saved Kuai Liang from taking him to the Lin Kuei by Cyrax, Kuai Liang revealed the truth about Bi-han, let their father d1e, broke his sacred oath, and sided against earthrealm, he even point at his scar who made by Bi-han and asked who is responsible for this, after she defeated Bi-han and Sektor, asked them how she fooled by his lie, Kuai Liang trying to punishing her for this,Even she didn't know they were hiding the truth from her, which means he misunderstood her.

But Harumi told him that's Cyrax was deceived by them and tell him to give him marcy, it's seems Harumi was the one who could understand Cyrax and could believe in her, Which he accepted her request but won't forgive Cyrax who injured his members of his clan. (NOT K1LLED)

----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

Despite how he doesn't trust her, despite their arguing with their problem, she save him by pushing him from falling, which that's make him concerned about her, he checked her if she's alright after the fall and he thanked her for saving his life which made Cyrax happy to ruture the favor. ----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

In the end of Khaos Reigns, Liu Kang told Kuai Liang that's Cyrax is waiting for him, Kuai Liang know Harumi's thoughts for Cyrax but he wasn't sure about it, but Liu Kang told him to turst her and her wisdom too, so. he decided to seeing her. ----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

When he met her there, she wanted to say something to prove herself, but he stopped her knowing exactly what she want to say, he pride her to fought well in the mission and against Havik, he also told her that his life saved by her, Cyrax though that all she did was not enough to him but he says to her that all she done was NOT ALL, he explain his mistake by judging her for believing in Bi-han lie's, he realized he also was taken in, as he said that he is alone who deserve his anger, he even give to her an invitation to joining his clan as compensation for what he did to her. Which this made Cyrax so happy and thanked him.

----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

But at her ending, When she became a Shirai Ryu member, Most of the clan didn't accept her expect Kuai Liang, and when they training with her, she was suddenly fighting for her life, so he saved her from them, punishing them by expelled them, that's made her felt very guilty, Because her presence seemed to be causing problems in the clan, and she didn’t want to disrupt the harmony of the group, She then offered to resign from the clan and asked for the attackers to be brought back by sharing tea.

----------------------🐝🦂----------------------

And about him? Yes. He made mistake for mistreated Cyrax, but he's isn't bad thing at all, he is human, A HUMAN BEING, just like us, we humans make mistakes. It is a natural part of being human and how people learn and grow. Mistakes can lead to valuable lessons, helping us to improve and make better decisions in the future.

[mdhwrites]

Why Didn't I Ask for Amphibia Asks?

I wanted asks for something I liked. That I would be positive about. I love Amphibia. I think the show is great with Marcy being its only real weak point. Why didn't I ask for Amphibia asks then? I know my audience. You guys like cartoons, not gacha games. So why HSR instead?

Because I would not have gotten Amphibia asks. I think in my entire time since finishing Amphibia, I have been sent ONE ask that even MENTIONS the amphibians and it was just to pick a favorite and talk about them. Or, well, I should say mentions them without becoming entirely unhinged about how "Why isn't our frog show about the literally only two characters that exist in it, Sasha and Marcy?"

I have stated before that the rabidity of the fandom about these two, how I have seen them genuinely slaughter some of the best cartoon writing I have literally ever seen just justify why these two shouldn't have gotten more time, has made me like them less. I got two asks, and thank you for the asks, for Amphibia just now... And both about Sasha and Marcy. One being about something I tried to litigate in the past where they argued "Like Celestia, Luna, and Discord, Marcy and Sasha are totes main characters," like that is even an accurate assessment... And the other asking me to ignore that I don't give a fuck about the show showing their relationship and to theorize on what Sasha and Marcy's relationship are. Not the end of that blog's statement where I mentioned that the Plantars actually have really deep ties to questions facing Amphibia and its themes but just Sasha and Marcy.

Always Sasha and Marcy. NEVER ANYTHING BUT SASHA AND MARCY.

I genuinely do not give a flying fuck about those two anymore. I love Sasha's arc. I think Marcy is a well done nerd, potentially better than any in TOH. I think there's a lot of good to say about them but I have no interest in anymore. Not when I'll just hear, "Yeah, and that's why the show committed war crimes by not giving them more episodes!"

So NO, I do not want Amphibia asks. I potentially never want to see another Amphibia ask in my life because at least with TOH, there is an interest in the show itself, instead of whatever warped perspective the Amphibia fandom has where the name was actually St. James. I would rather have people who's perspective I at least understand, who nominally actually still want the work they got, than people who would burn it all down just because their favorite characters didn't take up 90% of the run time.

THEY DON'T EVEN TALK ABOUT ANNE FOR GOD'S SAKE!

So yeah, I'd much rather have Star Rail asks while I'm trying to focus on analysis I like. Have a good day everyone, see you next tale, sorry for the aggression.