#my feelings are hurt and it's not even targetting me

[hhghgt]

undercover agents Buck & Eddie

Buck and Eddie were undercover agents on a high-stakes mission, tasked with infiltrating a covert arms deal. Forced to work together despite their clashing personalities, they spent most of their time snapping at each other. The mission had been a disaster, a whirlwind of close calls and chaos, leaving them both battered and bruised but somehow alive. Back at the safe house, the adrenaline still coursed through their veins, making the air between them feel volatile, ready to ignite.

Buck leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, while Eddie paced across the room like a restless predator, his jaw tight, fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to contain the storm inside him.

“You think you’re some kind of hero, don’t you?” Eddie snapped, his voice razor-sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Buck straightened, his eyes narrowing as he met Eddie’s glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eddie stopped pacing abruptly, pivoting to face him, his expression a mix of anger and exasperation. “do you even think! You just dive in headfirst. You treat every mission like a damn game of chicken.”

Buck bristled, crossing his arms defensively. “I didn’t hear you complaining when it worked,” he shot back, his tone defiant.

Eddie took a step closer, his movements deliberate and charged. “Worked? You made yourself a target! You nearly got yourself killed! You don’t get to gamble with your life like that—not when other people are counting on you.”

The accusation hit Buck like a punch to the gut, but he refused to show it. Instead, he pushed off the wall, his voice rising to match Eddie’s. “What’s your problem, huh? You were fine. I made sure of it. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

He added with a forced smirk. “You think you know me, Eddie? You don’t.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened, and in a flash, he grabbed Buck by the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the wall with a force that rattled the room. The air left Buck’s lungs in a grunt, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond.

“This isn’t a joke, Buck!” Eddie shouted, his voice raw with emotion. His face was inches from Buck’s, his eyes blazing with fury, but beneath the anger was something deeper—fear. “Do you even care that you almost died tonight? Or are you so damn selfish you don’t think about the people who’d have to live without you?”

The words hit harder than Buck expected, cutting through his defenses. He froze, his gaze dropping. “As if there’s anyone who would care,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “But I couldn’t let you get hurt. You’ve got Christopher. You’ve got people who love you. I don’t have that.”

Eddie’s grip on Buck’s shirt loosened, his anger giving way to shock. The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Buck’s confession hanging between them like a storm cloud.

“You’re not invincible, Buck,” Eddie said at last, his voice trembling as he lifted Buck’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “And I can’t—I won’t—keep watching you destroy yourself like this.”

Buck swallowed hard, his throat tightening with unspoken words. “Eddie…” he started, his voice softer now, hesitant. “It’s fine. You don’t have to act like you care. I know you hate my guts.”

Eddie let out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back as if burned. “Hate you?” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t be standing here, yelling at you for almost getting yourself killed. You think I enjoy this? That I don’t care?”

Buck stayed against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. There was something raw and unguarded in Eddie’s voice that left him speechless.

“Just… stop being so reckless,” Eddie muttered, his tone strained and quiet now. He turned away, his shoulders tense, refusing to look at Buck. “Because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply. “I can’t lose you.”

The vulnerability in Eddie’s words left Buck reeling. He stayed where he was, his breath shallow, the weight of everything sinking in. For the first time in a long time, Buck didn’t have a clever retort, didn’t have the words to fill the silence.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel like something he needed to fix. It felt like something they both needed to understand.

[kiame-sama]

Getting to the line where Erikir revealed he was going give an egg between him and the HAE!Human to the poachers in exchange for their help had me put my phone down for a minute to process the layers of ick I felt. I'm looking forward to seeing how his royal(pun intended) fuck up is handled in future chapters. Off the top of my head his crimes are;

1. assaulting the human, her kit, and his fellow students in the form of his magic

2. Attempted kidnapping of the human

3. Conspiring with poachers

4. Planning to SA her to they can have children

5. Selling/ trading his child to said poachers

6. Assaulting a fae royalty (even if none of his attacks actually hurt Malleus)

Him being a prince of another school makes him transgressions worse as he represents not just himself but RSA, his people as well as the Coral Sea royal family. I kinda feel bad for them unless they try to pull some "boys will be boys" / he was a prince in love that went about it wrong bs since their going to have to do HEAVY damage control. Not sure how strict the laws on human protection are for them compared to the Queendom of Roses, but I know the staff, Dorm leaders (especially Malleus), Papa Hades, Ambrose, Che'nya, plus Neige are going to demand he face harsh sentencing. I'm hoping somebody smacks the taste buds off of Ambrose for letting him still act as a guard. Something I was curious about if you'd be willing to elaborate on his signature spell as my interpretation is that it paralyzes his targets.

Voiceless Song has several uses. It is meant to paralyze, deafen, and mute those affected. He can either target one person or affect a group by creating a kind of cantrip around a room to keep those impacted in a state of paralysis. If someone is removed from the room affected but the magic is still active, he can choose to either deafen or mute the one affected for a certain amount of time but their paralysis is removed. These effects can be reversed, and Luckily Azul is familiar enough with Erikír to know how to reverse his signature spell.

[signanothername]

What do you think would happen if Stage 4 Killer was ordered to kill a cat?

Would he do it?

Or would he switch to a lower stage?

Cuz now im just thinking about how devastated he would be , coming down from stage 4 and seeing what he's done. If I remember correctly he isn't conscious during that stage.

I mentioned before that I believe Killer would switch to stage 1 if he saw his cats, so I don’t think Killer at stage 4 would even have a chance to hurt his cats before he’s back to stage 1 (not that stage 4 would hurt his cats in my eyes regardless)

And from what we’ve seen in the stage 4 comic, stage 4 seems to be a very rabid stage, while Killer is very out of it, the moment Killer supposedly completes his job, he immediately switches back to stage 2, and that also makes me think his cats aren’t going to be a target, cause the moment he finishes whatever job that made him switch to stage 4 to begin with, he’d just get back to stage 2 before anyone knows it

Now whether he’d do it if he’s commanded to, I like to believe Killer keeps stage 4 a secret from everyone

That includes Nightmare, nobody truly knows stage 4 exists except for Killer, and his own hallucinations (so just him basically)

So Nightmare wouldn’t even get to command Stage 4 at all, even if he did, I think an interesting question to ask is whether Killer would even listen to Nightmare at all, cause Stage 4 seems to act on instinct rather than Killer being his usual calculated self, and to me, it seems to also act on self defense in a way, cause it was triggered specifically after Killer got a really bad flashback concerning his brother, then hearing all the voices of everyone screaming at him, it’s obviously something that’s heavily influenced by his trauma

What I’m trying to say is, if we assume stage 4 acts on self defense rather than simply killing for the sake of killing, wouldn’t he feel the need to protect himself against Nightmare? Against his abuser as well? So would he attack Nightmare or would his conditioning cause Killer at stage 4 to cower and run and hide instead? The latter seems more plausible to me, but Idk just food for thought >:)

[sacchxrine05]

I’ve been seeing an increasing amount of Sherliam hate in my feed lately (to clarify I’m not calling anyone out specifically, do not even try to interpret this post as targeted. I’m too old for that typa shit) which, like…okay? I guess?

I understand posts explaining why they view Sherliam as totally platonic or why it isn’t canon or what have you, but outright hate just feels…unnecessary???

Like fair enough if you don’t like it, but you don’t have to go around doing the equivalent of shouting your dislike through a megaphone for everyone to hear.

The easy solution to the issue of not liking a certain brand of fan content is to just…avoid it…or block especially annoying people? Like it’s that easy.

Every fandom is gonna have people who are overly intense and obsessed with a certain character and/or ship and if you can’t deal with that then maybe fandom isn’t the space for you? Or idk, take some time away from the internet if it’s seriously bothering you to the point of genuine anger or frustration. Touch grass and all that jazz.

Idk, maybe I’m just too entirely of the mind of “don’t yuck someone else’s yum” cus as far as I’m concerned, if it brings someone joy and they aren’t hurting anyone, go absolutely buck wild dawg, it’s just not for me, yanno?

I’m probably just talking to a brick wall here in all seriousness, but I think fandoms in general, not just the Yuumori fandom, could benefit from a lot more tolerance and generally chilling out a bit.

Cus at the end of the day, none of these characters are fucking real and it quite literally does not matter what the fandom does with them, yanno? So just let people have their fun and you have your fun.

[impala124]

Bad Buddy Ep 9

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8

Me, at the end of this episode:

Well, I finally got to know what Patshottiversay is about, which started this whole Bad Buddy liveblog thing. So, there's that. As for my thoughts on the entire episode, here we go:

Wai was feeling hurt that Pran lied to him about his relationship with Pat and decided to out them as a form of retaliation. Still don't know if he's the one who saw them leave in the car together, though.

Okay, cut to the final play; Pat is smiling and clapping, but Pran appears to be a bit more subdued and peeking glances at Wai. Now, I thought Wai couldn't be a part of the play because of time constraints, which was the reason why Pran's ass was anywhere near this play.

Don't tell me that Wai is giving Pran the silent treatment after pulling that stunt. THE AUDACITY!!! He is. Pran is apologizing, which I kinda understand, but Wai really needs to get off his high horse. Are you sure you want to pull the best friend card here, Wai? After what you did in response?

Oh no, Pat became the faculty pariah; at least that's what Korn is saying. I'm sure it must've felt good for Pat to (supposedly) have Korn on his side.

I would actually pay good money to watch Pat talk to Wai for Pran. Thank you, Pat, for calling out your boyfriend on his avoidant behavior.

Awwww, Pat asking if Pran wants him to post a status saying that they broke up to get Wai to talk to him is 😭😭😭.

Guys, I don't feel good about this rugby practice. Okay, Pat's fine, at least physically.

I mean, Korn is being fun and playful, which must feel nice for Pat, but I'm still reserving judgment. His reaction just doesn't seem genuine, you know?

Pran is waiting in the bleachers for his jock boyfriend to finish rugby practice.

I have to admit that I let out a chuckle at the inhaler product placement in this tense atmosphere.

I'm sure their flirting is just pissing Wai off. Oh Wai, you really showed your attention-seeking ass there, didn't you?

So, let me get this straight: Pran only came to rugby practice to make his boyfriend sniff on an inhaler. ASFSHGF—

Yay, double date with Pa and Ink. My darlings. Okay, so, let's settle this once and for all. WHO SEDUCED WHOM? I'll have to go with Pat seducing Pran because Pran would have never taken the first step.

Ink trying to stir up the pot by asking Pat if he were lying about having feelings for her is just chef's kiss.

See, Ink saw PatPran coming from a mile. I mean, since Ink knows about their parents rivalry, even if she didn't want to broach that subject with the guys, I expected her to bring it up with Pa. Am I showing my nosy ass over here?

Ink, babygirl, I hope you weren't going for subtle with the "Are you being hit on by anyone?" Because it wasn't subtle, at all. These girls will be the death of me.

Ink, girl, what are you playing at? Please don't toy with Pa's feelings.

The domesticity!!!! "Can you stop being a big, clingy dog for one second?" Don't be lying now, Pran; you like him exactly like that.

Pa is the ever-suffering child that has to witness her parents PDA.

Wai is still mad, and Pat is kind of done seeing his boyfriend being sad.

I just hope the drink sales went through the roof after the episodes aired because they worked hard for the product placement to seem natural.

What in the what now, you take a sip of the drink and lose control over your bodily movements?! Maybe I'm not the target customer for this.

We are back to their regular flirting now. Pran saying, "All I know is if you lose, you won't get anything," in response to Pat's, "If I win, will I get more than the drink?" AAAAHHHHHH!

Game time!! I just have this feeling that Pat's going to end up getting hurt. Hope I'm wrong.

Okay, so none of Pran's friends are talking to him.

What crawled up Wai's ass now? This is a team sport; remember your rugby scholarship? Why are you half-assing it?

Pat, baby boy, a fight is what he wants, and you're giving it to him.

I think Pat is smart for saying, "I'll ask the coach to not send me onto the field if you can guarantee a win," to Wai—it indicates that the team winning is the thing that matters the most to him.

WAI PASSED THE BALL TO PAT!!!Pran also moved closer to his friends on the bleachers. And they won!!!

Pat definitely deserves to get whatever he wants from Pran after leading the team to victory and bridging the gap between Pran and his friends.

Well, Wai is still sulking, but at least it's off the field, and that's expected and normal atp.

I'd be worried if he were treating Pat like a friend now.

The other team seems like they are a bunch of sore losers. God, I hope they won't plan a sneak attack at night for revenge or anything like that. I don't know; I just have this gut feeling that someone will end up getting hurt.

All Pat wants is just to be babygirled by Pran. Is this the more you were talking about earlier, Pat? The reward after your win? Well, they got cockblocked by Korn.

They are at a bar celebrating their win. I don't want anyone injured at the end of the night, but my spidey senses are tingling.

Oh no, the losing team is at the place where Wai works, and the guy recognized him. I smell trouble in the air. HE DID NOT JUST PULL A GUN ON WAI. WTF???!!!

Thank God that Wai is trying to de-escalate the situation. Thank you, good stranger, who was just carrying his drunk friend out and inadvertently helped Wai.

Now, Pat's friends are also at the same place. So, the sore loser isn't done yet.

Oh, this takes me back in time. Remember when Pat's friends did the same to Wai? Pat remained passive back then, but he's butting in right now. Wai is asking Pat to back off, and he did, but I don't trust the look on that sore loser's face.

Pat, bestie, where are your friends? Why are you walking alone on a deserted street at night after that interaction?

Pat, RUN! Why are you trying to fight them? You are outnumbered.

Okay, Pat's friends are here.

Oh, no, he pulled the fucking gun. Are you shitting me right now??? This is how PAT GOT SHOT??!

I'm sorry, but why was that one of the funniest gunshots I've ever seen?

Guys, it's just so surreal. Why did it have to be a gun? I think it would've made more sense for it to be a knife the way they fought over it. You know, a knife stabbing instead of the gunshot wound. I would've taken it more seriously then, maybe.

Pran's in the hospital, on his way to cuss Pat's ass out, I hope.

Why are Pat's friends acting like that? Pat, sir, why are you breathing like that?

To kiss your boyfriend?! I'm softening up to Pat's friends a bit. They are just immature but don't mean any harm.

Apparently no one is taking this seriously because a gun went off in the middle of the night and the patient was just brought to the hospital. WHERE ARE THE COPS? Did they contact his parents?? Pat is 19 at the max. They should inform someone, RIGHT?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S JUST A GRAZE WOUND AND A BANDAGE IS ENOUGH, Pat? Huh? I feel like I'm going INSANE!!

Thank God the cops showed up. Now, why are the cops being dumb and assuming that Pat shot himself with his own firearm?

How about an investigation? Maybe send it to the lab for fingerprint analysis or check if the gun is registered under someone's name?

Why do I have to tell the cops how to do their job? They're charging him already. Man, what is this???!

Well, I guess it's good that Wai told everyone that Pat helped him the previous night.

I'm sorry, but what do you mean they are charging him without any investigation?

"Without any proof to confirm it isn't his, he's over." Is this how the justice system works? Aren't the cops supposed to provide irrefutable proof that the person committed the crime before they charge them?

Did they take witness statements? Do the police even know that others have fled the scene?

Now, why are these college kids trying to bring the others who fled the crime scene in? Shouldn't the police do that?

Since they played a game against them with a referee and all, they must have a record of their government names somewhere. Why don't they just turn the list over to the police?

Okay, I guess Wai is going to use the footage where the guy pulled the gun on him to prove Pat's innocence.

I mean, good, but why aren't we sharing this information with the police?! Why are you doing the work for them?

Why are the police acting like they are the fucking debt collectors and not public servants?

Well, at least Pran is getting his morning cardio in.

I'm not taking this seriously anymore. Now I understand the jokes; it's a way of coping with the absurdity of the situation.

Pran saved his boyfriend's ass, I guess.

Can someone explain to me like I'm five years old what the purpose of this whole thing was? I will expand upon this later.

Is it to show that Wai is okay with their relationship? I got that feeling after Wai asked Pat to step away from the fight the previous night.

Wait a second. Pat got shot, and no one informed Pa, you know, his sister who lives with him?

Okay, Wai and Pat are bantering now?! "My friend almost became a widower there."😂😂 These are not serious people.

God, they're so sweet with each other that it's almost making me forget about what all has transpired.

PAT'S FAMILY FINALLY SHOWED UP. Pa, sweetheart, you could've sent your brother a message that you're coming with your parents to visit him.

Now, why is the father acting like Pran shot Pat? Uncle, I'm sorry, my brain is already fried right now; I can't deal with you and your decades old rivalry at this moment.

Okay, real talk now. I honestly feel a bit let down and disrespected. The series has been building up to something extraordinary, and now I get this?! Did something happen in the writers room? There was an underlying tonal shift almost as if they were laughing at me for taking this show seriously. I mean, someone needs to answer for this. Now, let me try and summarise what all they tried to accomplish this episode:

Everyone in the university knows about their relationship and they face consequences for it.

They wanted Wai to be okay with Pat and Pran being together.

They wanted Pran to face Pat's parents and them being suspicious of his relationship with their son.

Cool, got it. Let's examine how they went about achieving each of these now and how else they could've accomplished the same because honestly this is how I'm feeling right now:

So, the whole university knows that these two guys from all-time rival faculties are now dating, and almost nothing happens? Pat gets treated like an outcast for 2 seconds. I mean, he was selected as class president by his seniors. If they really wanted me to take their faculty rivalry seriously, I would've gotten at least one scene where Pat was forced to make a choice between his relationship with Pran or his position of power in the faculty. I don't know, maybe my expectations were a lot higher for what the fallout for each would be. At least there were some repercussions for Pran dating Pat and keeping it a secret from his friends. The whole response to the reveal felt very anticlimactic (to me).

Now, let's talk about Pat getting shot. It was just unnecessary. Wai was already okay with Pat after Pat intervened in the club when Wai was being mistreated. He would've stopped being mad at Pran eventually and come around about their relationship given some time.

What about Pran running into Pat's parents and them being suspicious of their relationship? Could they have accomplished it without having Pran run into them in the hospital? Yes, I don't know why we are forgetting this, but they live in the same dorms and are neighbors. Given how frequently they have sleepovers, Pat's father could've just dropped by like he did previously in Ep 2, if I'm not wrong, and maybe find some of Pran's things lying around and take it from there. Instead of going through all that, given Pat's dad's propensity for just dropping by the university to meet one of his professor friends, he could've just seen them holding hands on a bench outside, somewhere, anywhere.

We still don't know who actually saw them leave together in Pat's car. Wai didn't recall it when he was going through his montage of Pran lying to my face about his relationship with Pat moments. I thought I'd see Pran's mom at the play because she apparently gets a bat signal whenever her son is near a musical instrument with Pat, but maybe not in this case?

Okay, I'm being snarky now, but it's because I feel duped. Maybe I'm taking this show too seriously, but until Ep 8, the show told me that it wants to be taken seriously. I hope it's just a one-off and they'll find their footing with the next episode.

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning. If anyone wishes to be tagged in the future, let me know.

[anika-ann]

For ask game:

Steve Rogers x reader ; Champagne Problems

HELLO SWEET 😍

Sorry to take a while longer, I wanted to time this story right 😇 Thank you for participating in this ask game! 

Alright, I’m going to be honest, I coooompletely flipped this prompt around and ignored that’s a Taylor song. I was in a need of a cheery fic. Also, my mind instantly went to @stellar-solar-flare’s Worthy, an exquisite delivery on a prompt with this song, so I needed to do something different. My apologies if this is entirely misses its mark.

Champagne Problems

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader WC: 1450 (five sentences, what five sentences) Type: fluff and humour, New Year's Eve blurb Warnings: dares and alcohol, language, tooth-rotting fluff

The room is full of Holiday cheer and expectations, excited murmur and an odour of pricy alcohol of greatest variety; whiskey, gin, wine, fancy beer, champagne and more; vodka and absinth for the adventurous ones.

You are not adventurous – not quite. In a room filled with literal superheroes and their peers, important CEOs and the fun kind of scientists, as Tony likes to put it, it feels like you stick out like a sore thumb, no matter how at home your people, your friends, try to make you feel.

Hence you taking advantage of the open bar with champagne flowing freely, expensive and sparkly like liquid gold. 

The gold does not solidify in your veins as any reasonable chemist would expect; instead, it warms you up, making you a bit giggly, much to the delight of your lab friends, who, you suspect, decided to make you into their personal lab rat, set to observe the effects of alcohol on your balance, boundaries and behaviour. You can’t quite hold it against them; such is the danger of leaving you unsupervised. You have voiced your concerns, but a sweet smile was the only response you got, along with encouragement to have fun.

And now, here you are. Accepting a stupid dare.

Such is the problem of champagne; it makes you agree to silly things.

The midnight is nearing, only minutes away; and you are to find and kiss the most handsome man in the room, unless – to quote your friends – you wanted to be called a pussy. Maybe you should find new friends, you muse, as your gaze, still sharp despite the two glasses of champagne you downed, travels around the room. Two glasses – how much is that in BAC? Considering your weight and—

Your brain comes to a screeching halt, your heart skipping a startled beat, breath catching so violently in your chest it actually hurts for a brief moment.

You found him; the most handsome, downright stunning man in the room.

Whether you’ll have the courage to simply walk to him and ask for a midnight kiss, now that is a wholly different question; but as you take in the deliciously tall man, the slacks hugging his muscular thighs and ass so nicely, your gaze trailing up his blue button-down, you wish it was your hands mapping out his torso instead. Feeling him up all the way up to his gorgeous face, sharply cut jaw, soft pink lips, elegant nose and sparkly eyes the colour of the sky, his with golden hair like the sun to perfect that metaphor---

Your friends wolf-whistle lowly and giggle, patting your shoulder, knowing all-too-well that you have acquired the target, so to speak.

“I think it’s time to live up to your last name, our dear Mercury. You wouldn’t want to hear it in the same sentence as coward, would you?” Gen teases you, causing you to shoot her an offended and very much determined glare, because no. No one would speak your last name and liked it to a coward; only over your dead body.

“Watch me,” you hiss, setting your third glass – untouched – on the high table, straightening and setting direct course for the absolutely breathtaking man ordering a glass of whiskey at the bar.

You hear snickers behind you and even a groan, but you ignore it; you have a clear goal. Your heart is beating insanely fast – you are so sure it is not healthy with combination of alcohol, but you cannot exactly prevent it – so you keep walking, your legs slightly shaky not because of nerves, but because you are several feet from the man when he takes notice of you.

And he smiles.

Not just a soft curl of lips – a full brilliant smile, warm, a glow in his eyes as if someone had spared just a drop of luminol for him.

You could trip over your feet at the sight; hell, you do.

He reaches out, catching you easily, a flicker of concern over his face until he sees you watching him with mute awe, your hands landing on his firm chest as he steadies you and unsteadies your heart completely in the process.

God gracious-

“Hi,” you choke out, earning a chuckle and a greeting in return.

He’s still holding you; you notice, because you are bright like that. Normally. Your brain function might be slightly impaired by the products of ethanol metabolization.

“Can I help you, doll?” he asks, deep voice slightly amused, causing your fingers to twitch on his chest, flexing in his shirt, because holy damn, if the champagne was liquid gold, his voice is liquid spiced honey, sultry enough to have you shiver at the heat coiling in your belly.

His gaze is hypnotizing you, coaxing you to tell him everything, starting with why you’re here, ending with your deepest desires. If he wasn’t looking like an angel, you’d swear he had to be the devil.

“Yeah… I need you to kiss me at midnight.”

His eyebrow arches, one corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smile that sends your brain into frenzy; by the time his hands release you, only to have one arm wrap around your waist to pull you closer, your thoughts are a static noise.

“Is that so, sweetheart?”

You nod, your tongue feeling heavy as his gaze flickers down to your lips; you painted them red, as if you could be a seductress, as if you knew your friends would dare you to do exactly what you were doing now.

“I think I can do that… but will you tell me why?”

“They said that unless I find the prettiest guy in the room and kiss him at midnight, they’ll put my last name and coward in one sentence!” you blab them out, a note of accusation in your voice.

Time freezes for a second; a long enough second for you to regret saying it, regret having drunk, regret your choice of friends-

And then the man laughs, a warm sound of undiluted joy, his body shaking against yours but his free hand moves to cradle your cheek and angle your head up, his eyes glimmering like the night sky on a clear December night, the heat of his palm – and his arm pulling you even closer to him – poured all over your skin.

“And you couldn’t have that, could you?”

“No,” you chip, your own lips slowly curling up in a grin as his thumb caresses your cheek softly.

“And you didn’t even hesitate and chose me right away now that I’m finally here, did you?”

“Mmmm, I mean-“

His grip on your chin grows a little firmer, sending delight through your veins, your breathing picking up as his lips, so tempting, near yours.

“Hush, Mrs. Rogers… say you didn’t hesitate and I’ll kiss you right now,” he coaxed, his lips so close to yours you can almost taste how delicious the kiss will be, the thrill of being called Mrs. Rogers, even as you’ve been called it over and over for months now, sending a pleasant shiver through your body.

“That wasn’t the dare… but no. I didn’t hesitate, love. It’s always you,” you whisper, brushing your lips to his only to retreat, to repay his teasing just a bit, even as you know what a thrilling thought of being your first and only choice does to him, the soundless purr in his chest oh so sweet against your palm. “And you can kiss me whenever… in fact, please do.”

The deafening wolf-whistles from your friends become but a background noise, your whole world shrinking to a six foot four man, a wall of warm muscle holding you gently but suddenly kissing you with vigour, hand firmly planted on the back of your neck as he devours your mouth, because goddamn did he miss you just as you missed him and neither of you could care less for fireworks going off in a few minutes, because the real spark is right here, between you, within you, shared by steady, slow and downright criminally indulgent press of lips to lips.

The kiss is probably indecent to watch; but you don’t care.

Such is the problem of champagne; it makes you care zilch about what other people think, unless maybe your husband’s name – your last name – is threatened. 

Your friends, those you contemplated changing for another, probably knew all along what they were doing, noticing Steve’s arrival before you did; but you’ll realize that later on, after your brain reboots.

Until then, there’s your husband, handsome all hell and solid and warm and safe and perfect and yours, and that’s all that matters.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, love.”

“Happy New Year’s Eve indeed. Welcome home, Steve.”

Many thanks for sending this request and enabling me to write a proper end-of-year fic ✨ HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL 💕

And thank you for reading and potential feedback!

You can find my other works on my masterlist, should you be interested 😇

Divider by @firefly-graphics

[danielmolloystits]

call that a dinner date (armand/daniel, armand/daniel/f!OC) (1/1)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61802263

Summary:

Valerie shrugs. “I always wanted to try it.” Her eyes flit over Daniel’s face quickly, like she’s performing some sort of mental calculation, before she eventually adds, “You know, getting railed by a stranger. No strings attached. Doing something truly wild for once.” Daniel likes the way her lashes flutter, girlish and pretty. He can’t wait to eat her. “How wild were you thinking you wanted to get?” he asks, his eyes sliding past her to settle on Armand. She turns to follow his gaze, before flushing when she realizes what he’s implying. “Do you mean—” “Ever had a threesome, Valerie?” — Daniel gets dinner for himself and Armand.

Rating: E Pairing: M/M, M/M/F (Armand/Daniel, Armand/Daniel/Original Female Character) WC: ~2.5k

Armand’s hands are cool where they press into Daniel’s sides, his nails scraping quickly-fading lines in the skin of his fledgling’s hips as they dance. Every so often, they toe the line of what’s acceptable in public—Armand clutching at Daniel’s ass or his fingers dipping dangerously low and teasing at his graying pubic hair (and, not for the first time, Daniel wishes he’d had enough warning to trim before Armand turned him). Or, rather, what would be acceptable, in any kind of establishment other than the one that they’re currently in: upper-crust, dark, discreet. The kind of place with private rooms and staff who don’t ask too many questions. The kind of place with a dedicated dungeon. Not Daniel’s usual scene—he’s always liked his sex clubs with a little bit of grime in them, thank you very much—but whatever.

Armand had insisted.

“Lover, you’re distracted,” his maker whispers in his ear, still swaying in time with the music, before sucking the lobe into his mouth and biting down. Despite himself, Daniel gasps. “Am I not entitled to your attention? Am I boring you?”

“Maybe,” Daniel offers, rolling his hips into Armand’s and earning himself a bitten-off growl for his efforts. “Do something worth paying attention to.”

Armand grins at that, sharp and mean; Daniel can feel it pressing into his neck. “You would do well to remember, beloved, that I can set fires with my mind.”

“As if I ever forget.”

“Sometimes I worry you don’t remember enough,” Armand murmurs, and his fingertips singe Daniel’s waist where he holds him, just enough to make the skin sizzle. And Daniel knows he’s a freak pervert, all right, because it makes his cock throb in the black jeans Armand had cajoled him into wearing.

Daniel’s voice is only a little strangled when he says, “You could remind me.”

“Hm.” Armand’s voice lilts in feigned contemplation as his hands wander down to grab at Daniel’s ass again. “Perhaps I could.” He squeezes, then, hard; Daniel writhes into his touch. “But I want you to do something for me first.”

“Oh?”

The pinprick of fangs against Daniel’s neck. “Fetch me dinner.”

Daniel laughs, throaty and full. “Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”

Armand leans his head back to look his fledgling in the eye. His hands, however, don’t move. “Get us someone pretty,” he says, his gaze nothing short of adoring even as his tone is playful.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Daniel gives him a lazy salute, before slithering out of Armand’s grasp and making his way off of the dance floor and over to the bar.

He spots his target right away: a woman, mid-40s, with curly brown hair all swept to one side. She has tantalizingly full hips that stretch the fabric of the little black dress she’s wearing, her neck long and exposed and utterly bite-able. But that isn’t what attracts Daniel to her (though it certainly doesn’t hurt). No, that would be the stench of impending death that clings to her underneath the warm, spicy aroma of her perfume.

Cancer, aggressive. She probably has two good months before she shrivels into nothing.

When Daniel peers into her mind, he sees that she knows it, too—has known for weeks now. Sees that she’s refusing treatment; evidently, she doesn’t want to prolong the inevitable. She’s made her peace with the prognosis and would rather meet the end on her own terms. It’s why she’s here, in fact: another item on the bucket list to cross off.

Somebody half in love with an easeful death, Daniel thinks, before sidling up next to her. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, letting his gaze rake over her figure. Just enough to signal his interest, but not so aggressive as to be creepy. The woman smiles politely, a little bemused. She thinks he’s handsome, Daniel knows, but there’s an element of suspicion there, too. “I thought you were here with him,” she says, nodding over to where Armand is still dancing. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Daniel gives her what he hopes is his most charming look. “Who do you think insisted I come over and talk to you?”

Her smiles grows a little less reluctant. “I suppose a drink couldn’t hurt, then.” She extends a hand for him to shake. “I’m Valerie,” she says. “And you are?”

He accepts the offered hand, grasping her fingers delicately in his own for just a moment too long. Intimate. “Daniel.”

Something like recognition lights up in her eyes. “Daniel, eh?” She tactfully doesn’t comment beyond that, though. “I’ll have a glass of red, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing,” Daniel says, before turning to the bartender to order two cab-savs. Then, even though he already knows the answer, he asks, “So, do you come to these sorts of places often?”

Valerie laughs, a touch bashful. “Hardly. I came here tonight on a lark, really.”

“Oh?” Daniel pays the bartender as he slides the drinks over to them, handing one to Valerie and keeping the other for himself. “And how are you finding it so far?”

“Boring, mostly,” she replies, grinning ruefully into the rim of her glass. “Though it’s gotten better in the past few minutes, I must admit.”

“Happy to help,” Daniel says cheekily, taking a sip of wine that tastes like bland paste. “What made you decide to come out, if this sort of thing isn’t usually your scene?”

“Honestly?” Valerie searches his face for something. She must find it, because she confesses, “I’m dying. Lung cancer, stage IV. No treatment options—they caught it too late.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Daniel tells her, feigning surprise.

She rolls her eyes, and for a brief instant it makes her look decades younger. “God, don’t pity me. I hate that sort of thing.” She sweeps her hair to the other side of her neck, a nervous gesture. A tell. “I just want to make the most of it, you know?”

“So you thought, hey, why not hit up a sex club?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not sure that’s where most peoples’ minds would’ve gone,” Daniel remarks dryly.

Valerie shrugs. “I always wanted to try it.” Her eyes flit over Daniel’s face quickly, like she’s performing some sort of mental calculation, before she eventually adds, “You know, getting railed by a stranger. No strings attached. Doing something truly wild for once.”

Daniel likes the way her lashes flutter, girlish and pretty. He can’t wait to eat her. “How wild were you thinking you wanted to get?” he asks, his eyes sliding past her to settle on Armand.

She turns to follow his gaze, before flushing when she realizes what he’s implying. “Do you mean—”

“Ever had a threesome, Valerie?”

“I—” She cuts herself off. Pauses briefly, then says, “No, I haven’t.”

“Would you like to?”

Valerie laughs, like she can’t quite believe this is really happening. “You know what? Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

+

Armand kisses her on the hand when they walk over to greet him. “Valerie, did you say your name was? You’re stunning.”

“And you’re a flatterer,” she shoots back, smirking. “Rare to see a young man with manners these days.”

“I’m not as young as I look,” Armand says mysteriously; Daniel smothers a snort at the obviousness of it. Then, his maker leans up to whisper, low and seductive, in the woman’s ear: “Though I hope you taste as good as you look.”

“Only one way to find out,” Valerie murmurs. Her cheeks are attractively pink, filled hot and vital with her blood.

Armand smiles flirtatiously and grabs her by the hand, leading her up the stairs towards the private rooms. Despite her illness, Valerie’s pulse is strong under her skin as she follows. Daniel syncs his footsteps to the steady rhythm of her heart, counting each beat with increasing hunger. By the time they make it to their room, he’s already hard in his jeans.

Valerie, however, looks a little nervous as she steps inside, sitting down stiffly at the foot of the bed. She chuckles awkwardly. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to do now. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Well,” Armand says smoothly, dropping to his floor in front of her and placing a hand on either of her knees. “I believe we had mentioned something about tasting you.” He glances up at her, and although Daniel can’t see, he can imagine the exact look he’s giving her right now. The one that’s a dead ringer for a fairy tale prince. “If that’s all right with you?”

“Yeah,” Valerie says, already breathless. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good,” Daniel says, sliding around to settle behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and caging his legs around hers. She startles for a second, before relaxing into the touch and leaning her weight back onto his chest. He hooks his head over her shoulder, to give himself a better view of his maker as he spreads her legs apart.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I take my time,” Armand says, gazing up at Valerie through his lashes. “I’d really rather savor this.” Then, he slides his hands under her dress over her thighs, rucking it up to her hips and exposing the thin, red lace of her panties to the air conditioning.

“Consider yourself forgiven,” Valerie giggles, sounding almost a touch hysterical. In her mind, Daniel can hear her wondering if this is all some sort of impossibly hot dream. It makes him grin into the bare skin of her neck, before he lays an open-mouthed kiss there. At the same time, Armand presses his lips to her inner thigh. “Oh,” she moans, wriggling like she isn’t sure which touch to push into.

Daniel snakes one of his hands up her stomach to palm at her breast, rubbing his thumb over her hardening nipple while Armand works his way inwards, lavishing feather-light kisses to the sensitive flesh of her legs as his fingers skate closer to the center of her, a slow and deliberate creep that makes Valerie squirm in anticipation. Daniel’s nose is filled with the rich, heady scent of her arousal, and with his tongue pressing against her pulse point, he can almost taste the way the endorphins are flooding her blood.

When Armand finally reaches the apex of her thighs, petting the soaked fabric that covers the core of her, Valerie cries out, her hands clutching desperately to Daniel’s arms. “More,” she pleads, attempting to writhe into Armand’s hand.

“You’re lovely when you beg,” Armand murmurs, before acquiescing and pulling her underwear to the side so he can slide his clever fingers where she needs them most. Valerie throws her head back onto Daniel’s shoulder, a shuddery little sigh escaping from between her lips.

She really is lovely—Daniel wants to devour the noises she’s making. When he uses his free hand to turn her face and bring her mouth to his, he’s instantly rewarded with another moan, and it’s exactly as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be, needy and high-pitched like it’s being dragged straight from her throat. He scrapes the nails of his other hand lightly over her breast, his touch teasing, and relishes in the way it makes her shiver against him.

Armand, meanwhile, is rubbing slow and methodical circles around Valerie’s clit, as careful in this as he is in all things. It’s clearly driving her into a frenzy, making her whimper and keen, but Daniel can tell it’s not going to be enough to get her off—that she needs a rougher touch to get there, that she needs a little more contact. So he walks his fingers down her side once more, over her hip, and then buries them in his maker’s hair.

“Here, sweetie, let me help,” he says against Valerie’s mouth, tugging on Armand’s curls until he’s dragged flush against her pelvis, his hand falling away to be replaced with his tongue. “You want to make a mess of him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her mouth dropping open in a plaintive whine. “God, yes.”

“Let me know when I hit the spot,” Daniel instructs softly, and then uses his grip on Armand’s hair to begin maneuvering him. Armand obediently goes loose and pliant in his grasp, allowing himself to be manipulated as easily as anything; as Daniel compels him to move his mouth on her, he lets out a groan of his own, the sound of it muffled with him pressed as he is to Valerie’s cunt. Daniel guides him to eat her out harder, faster, until she begins screaming so loud that Daniel has to swallow her cries in another kiss.

“There, fuck, there,” she pants when they break apart again, hips bucking up into Armand’s face. “Fuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

Armand doesn’t—Daniel doesn’t let him—and it isn’t long before she’s twitching and convulsing, caught between the two of them as her climax overtakes her.

The two of them, maker and fledgling, catch each other’s eyes, and no words need to be spoken in order for the directive to be clear. Armand rises, and Daniel uses the hand in his hair to guide him to Valerie’s neck, and then both of them are biting into mirrored carotids and draining the life from this sick, happy woman.

“What are you—” she whispers, delirious and only half-cognizant.

Rest, Daniel projects into her mind, at the same time he’s certain Armand does the same, and she immediately goes limp in their arms as they continue to feed.

By the time she’s nearly empty, dying a peaceful and blissful death, both of them are high on the euphoric chemicals in her blood. As they release her to fall back onto the mattress, they lunge for one another, smearing AB+ all over their mouths in their haste to shove their tongues down each other’s throats.

In mere moments, Armand has straddled Daniel and a hand worked into his jeans, and Daniel has two fistfuls of Armand’s ass, and neither of them is going to last long but they both feel too good to really care about that. They’re like teenagers again, overwhelmed with hormones and feverishly horny, rutting against one another without any grace or finesse.

Afterwards, they’ll have to take care of the body. They’ll have to make sure no one notices anything that they shouldn’t. But for now, the only thing that matters in the world is the two of them, and Valerie, and the sacrament of life that she has gifted them. All that matters is the way affection pours from Armand’s mouth into Daniel’s, from Daniel’s mouth into Armand’s. All that matters is this moment, holy and reverent and eternal. All that matters is them.

[velvetvexations]

the fact that i've seen multiple transmascs happily reblogging/supporting the "bomb that kills all transmascs" thing makes me so fucking sad. i feel like we've understood with other issues how "ironic" edgy humor can desensitize us to the bigotry within it- but now we're just happy to let people joke about wiping a group of trans people out of existence? we have no problem with this? we're gonna normalize hatred based solely on identity and not behavior (like how theyfab claims to only target transmigoynistic transmascs)? the bomb kills all transmascs honey that includes you, TMpickmEs i never want to hear people criticizing transandrophobia theory again if this is what passes for transfeminism

It's exactly that kinna person who I was talking about when I was posting about identifying when I was getting victim blame-y and too hostile towards someone being self-destructive, because they make me sad and it's easier to hate them than sympathize. I hope they get better.

Transmasc: acts transmisogynystic because they see individual transandrophobic transfems Everyone(correct): that's bad and reactionary, you can't blame an entire group for a small portion of traumatized individuals who lash out at your group who may have been hurt by individual members of your group Transfem: acts transandrophobic because they see individual transmisogynystic transmascs Everyone (double standard): that's valid, if you've been hurt by individual members of a fellow minority group that gives you free reign to act reactionary and generalize a whole group based on the worst of it's members (this is not a universal thing, but it does exist and I've seen the double standard. I encourage calling out transmisogynystic transmascs, I just don't like the double standard in certain trans spaces. Treat reactionary thought as what it is: reactionary. No matter who it's from or against)

they fundamentally do not care about other people

why is it called transradfeminism instead of radical transfeminism?

Ask Thalia Bhatt.

I love transmasc mabel (and also transmasc ophelia) headcannons cause it's very comforting to turn the characters I related to hard when I was a kid into transmascs.

Yeah! Love that for you anon.

I wanted to thank you for your level-headed support and the platform for respectful intra-community discussions you've provided. I hope you're taking as much rest and recovery from the stresses of the Disc Horse™ as you need <3 (also, idk if you bake, but I found a really good recipe for snickerdoodles that definitely chased away some of my lingering holiday stress www.ambitiouskitchen(.)com/brown-butter-snickerdoodle-cookies/ )

oooh thank you anon!

I like how jokes about killing all transmascs are fine but TRFs are still harping on about that one guy that said something about - (not that I thought the original post was in good taste but. I do feel like jokes about killing all transmascs are worse actually) Now that I type it out it's kinda horrifying that there's so many people that are theoretically supportive of trans people that think those joked are okay actually.. somehow internalized it as normal till just now

TRFs would say that post was code for something worse but idk if "we're open about wanting to murder an entire group of marginalized people" is a W

- was just stirring shit up with the gravity falls discourse to distract from her only answers to questions about 'tme/tma' language is to call people stupid and tell them they are lying about their experiences.

As usual.

The thing with “Dipper can’t be trans because then Mabel would be transphobic!!” Is that I’ve seen so many posts on this site that have had no problem intentionally interpreting a characters actions as transphobic for the purpose of transfem headcanons? That’s usually don’t get push back? Even though I’m usually against intentionally trying to portray a character who isn’t bigoted in the source material as bigoted for no reason other than headcanons or jokes I don’t understand what the difference is here?

the difference is that it's a transmasc headcanon

My hot take is that both Dipper and Mabel are transmasc, but Dipper has always known and socially transitioned very early, and Mabel will be hit with the "oh fuck I am also a man" realization in his 20s in the same way a Looney Tunes critter would be with an anvil or perhaps a piano.

such a funny image lmao and very in-character

[harukamitsuki]

Character: *speaks in a different language* Oh, whoops, sorry! It's hard to switch back sometimes!

Me: Ew, no, stop that. That's not how that works

-

Bi/Multilingual characters consciously switch between languages, unless they've been afflicted mentally, such as being delirious or running on a dangerously high fever. Please, if you're including a bi/multilingual character and want to intergrate that naturally into your story, just do a bit of research.

Reddit gives a lot of advice, as well as tumblr and maybe TikTok if you find the right side of it.

Bi/multilingual characters are only really likely to switch languages mid-sentence if there's a specific word that doesn't translate exactly to the general language. Even then, it's not likely that they'll instantly switch.

They may also switch languages for specific idioms or phrases that aren't common in the general language or just don't translate well at all.

Troubles with language: if they forget a word in the general language, they're likely to just go 'that thing' or try to describe it until someone else finds the word for them. Sometimes, they'll know the word in another language but not the general one. In most cases, if they can't remember the word in the moment, they'll remember it later and slap themselves in the face.

The more languages a character speaks, the more likely they are to forget words. Also, it's incredibly hard to become fluent in a language unless you interact with others speaking the same language. Colloquisms and such are hard to pick up on unless speaking and interacting with natives or that specific culture.

Some letters/characters are incredibly hard to pronounce properly unless you've been corrected on them multiple times and actually taught them by natives, though they most likely don't care about butchered pronounciation, unless it's a specific dialect. In that case, some might find it insulting.

I'm not bilingual or multilingual, so if you want proper advice, go to those reddit pages or tumblr posts that are actually written by people who are. Still, all this advice I've given is from my own research for my fanfics.

Seeing authors abuse google translate and go, 'yay, representation!', is very frustrating, especially because it relies on stererotypes and thus diminishes the representation. It happens more often than not, and that's really sad because you can make bilingual/multilingual troubles so funny.

Forgetting a word so you just shrug and start a new conversation because it's easier than trying to figure out what the word is. Swearing in another language so children don't pick it up, only for them to also speak that language. Speaking in a different language just to annoy everyone else who doesn't understand.

There's a lot of potential for comedy with this, but not when it's 'oops, it's hard to switch back/I get confused sometimes.' And, no. They do not switch when excited. It's a conscious decision, unless they're really, really out of it.

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[ohsweetflips]

my jgy thoughts have been expanding and adapting and roiling and toiling etc etc etc and all of it is coming down to me affectionately marveling at this character. he’s cut-throat. he’s cunning. his kindness leaves lasting impressions. his mercy is what predates his demise. he’s one of the few cultivators who helps those in need. he will sacrifice them if it benefits him. he loved. it didn’t last. it killed him. it orchestrated his downfall. he’s a genius. he’s paranoid. he compartmentalizes. he splits the world into who he would sacrifice and who he would not. people he loves and people he would sacrifice are not mutually exclusive. he’s filial to a fault. it was all for his mother. he is a study in assimilating to survive. the results vary. he manipulates the herd mentality to his benefit. it is turned against him. he is killed for the one thing he didn’t do by the one person he wouldn’t sacrifice. it is still somehow better than what the hive-mind cultivation world would have done. i love this tragic kaleidoscope of a character.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[revenge-of-the-assbutt]

i feel sick

[girlivealwaysbean]

sometimes my boobs hurt so much i think they're gonna bleed surely this is normal right

[feenmies]

if you speak badly about my friends in my presence i am not going to fuck with you i'm sorry like it's not happening