#neon shall return

[il3x]

It is aromantic visibility day

Therefore I can see you now

With my eyeballs

[GETS PERCIEVED]

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny- pt. 10

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9]

“This you?”

Danny glanced at the stone tablet in Spoiler’s hands and groaned, Phantom form flickering with embarrassment as his face got even more neon green. It was indeed him.

——

The first Atlantean and Ghost King encounter went something like this:

Imagine Danny, sleep deprived. Easy enough. Now, imagine Danny, trying to corral a ghost that had a penchant for sea life.

“Alabastor, I swear to Ancients, if you don’t get back here, I’m gonna make you into ghost sea-food boil!” Danny yelled as he chased Alabastor through the ghost zone. The crustacean shaped ghost cackled, skittering along the Zone.

"Make me, Phantom! You have not seen the might of the sea!"

"That's it, soup-time, crabby!"

Danny dove after Alabastor, chasing him face first into a temporal portal and right into the sea.

"BEHOLD!" Alabastor rumbled, claws raised and sea churning around him. Danny flew at him, noticing the screaming people below. He quickly raised a dome of clear ice to protect their entire city before returning his attention back to the giant crustacean. The distraction cost him, as Alabastor blasted him with a beam of his power. "THE MIGHT OF THE SEA!"

"SOUP!" Danny bellowed back, Alabastor's power forcing him into a giant crab form, aside from, hilariously, his head. Danny, always quick to adapt, slammed a massive claw straight into one of Alabastor's eyes and popped open the Fenton Thermos with a feral grin. In but moments, Danny manages to soup Alabastor but not before slamming him down onto the unbreakable ice Danny had just made.

Carefully turning by skittering sideways, he unmelted his ice.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly to the gawking civilians below.

"Suh-ree? What is suh-ree?" A brave woman asked.

"Oh," Danny uttered as he realized that he should probably switch languages. His giant crab body and small itty bitty human head swayed in an unsure motion. "Sorry means "my apologies." I had not meant to involve you. I am Phantom."

"It is alright... thank you for protecting us... God Phantom?"

He grimaced. "Not a god."

"King, then." She stepped forward. "May I ask of the ice?"

——

Spoiler, sensing weakness like the Riddler to a riddle, leaned in. "Did you know they have a traditional dance to honor the god that gave them the unbreakable ice that protects Atlantis to this day? It goes like this," Spoiler stepped back and did the dance, complete with exaggerated arm movements and, embarrassingly, the scuttle walk Crab!Danny was forced to learn with his new crab form.

"We shall never speak of this again," Danny huffed.

"But King Phantom, the God of Eternal Ice and Protection, how could we not celebrate your iciness?" Spoiler simpered, Black Bat not too far away and shaking with laughter. The purple donning vigilante did the scuttle dance once more, picking up bottles as she went a small circle around one of Bludhaven's rock beaches.

Danny scowled and plucked the tablet away from her, hair flowing an a more agitated direction. His jumpsuit burned brighter. "Why are you two menaces in Bludhaven? I thought your territory was in Gotham."

"Nightwing asked for back up and we were in the area." Spoiler, blessedly, stopped the walk to answer him. "By the way, are you and Danny dating?"

"Pardon?" He asked, insulted but highly amused.

"Oh, you know, he has your number, and you only ever talk to him outside of us, and how you guys have a high level of communication." Spoiler said leadingly.

Oh, Danny knew what this was about now. He found out their identities and now these two are interrogating him because he liked them best. They thought they were so clever. Well, they clearly haven't gotten to know Danny at all if they thought he was going to make good decisions.

Danny tilted his head, making sure his face gets as eerie as possible, shadows elongating and eyes burning just that much brighter. The neon green of his face shone even brighter against the suddenly dark landscape of the place. Black Bat stood up, laughter seizing immediately. Spoiler tensed.

"I have a riddle for you. You are good at those, are you not?"

Spoiler blinked but gamely said, "Bring it."

"What do these things have in common? An arguing couple, papers on a stranger's desk, and Star City's robbers."

"..." Spoiler slipped into her solving mode. "Stolen goods. Stolen hearts?" She guessed.

"No. The answer is that they're all none of your business," Danny snarled. His form flickered. "Keep your questing away from Danny- Daniel, vigilante. Your duty is to protect your city and help her," Danny swept an arm out. "Stick to that instead of inserting yourself into places you are not wanted."

Then, with a toss of an ecto-crossed recorder that held the verbal report he'd promised Nightwing towards Black Bat, Danny blinked out of the visible spectrum and flew above the two.

"... Shit, I think I pissed him off."

Black Bat nodded. "He was defensive."

"Yeah... did you hear that slip? Oh, they are so dating."

Danny grinned. He couldn't wait for Tim to interrogate him soon.

——

"You're kidding."

Danny shook his head, maniacal grin still on his face hours later. He'd taken the liberty to call his best friends before classes started for the day.

Tucker groaned. "Danny, I can't believe you're messing with Batman. Why are you like this."

"Look, I need your help."

"Oh no, keep me out of your dumbass plans, Fenton," Sam pointed at him through the screen, immaculately painted black nails threatening.

"Okay, if you go along with my plan, I'll give you Dr. Isley's number."

"Deal," Sam said immediately, changing her tune at a drop of a hat. Or, at a drop of a number.

"What about me?" Tucker asked, offended. "I deserve compensation for my work too, dammit!"

"I'll give you Tim Drake's number and persuade him to let you have a crack at Wayne Industry's tech basement."

"Deal, what are we doing?"

Danny's grin spread even wider. "We're dating. And, you two? You're Phantom's exes. Tucker, you say good stuff about me. Sam? You make up terrible things about me. But we're all dating each other and I'm dating Phantom on the side."

"I hate you," Sam deadpanned. "But fine, it's not that hard. I've got tons of embarrassing stories about Phantom. You better get me that number, Danny, because you know Dr. Isley was my gay awakening."

"For Tim Drake, I'd be willing to puff up your ego." Tucker said solemnly.

"Perfect. I'm cleaning his brother of ectoplasm today. so expect a call later! Love you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, boyfriend." Sam clicked off the call.

"Think Tim Drake would be interested in a date?" Tucker asked Danny.

"Nah, I think he's got his heart on Benard."

"Damn," Tucker sighed. "Guess I'll have to mend my broken heart with the tools of a state-of-the-art lab, right, Danny?"

"Yep, see ya!" Danny hung up. Today was going to be a good day.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

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

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so… 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 ��𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. teeth rotting fluff (lots of feelings), little smut (towards the end) domestic things because why not, kissing and making out. etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @cafekitsune & @anitalenia 🩷

Heat radiated from his body, and you became just as much warm because you were naturally made to adapt your body to humans. Meanwhile you rested and charged up lying on your back Logan snuck into your bed. Opening your eyes you blinked, adapting to the pink vision from the love mode. He slept so peacefully next to you one arm draped over your stomach keeping you close. The neon lights peeking through the dark curtains— illuminating the room. Touching his forearm slowly tracing every vein on his arm. He woke slowly. “Good Morning Sir..” smiling small gently leaning in to peck his mouth and he responded. “Mornin bub” he groaned rolling on his back realising he moved to the guest room after you two connected as deeply as it could the night before. “How are you feeling Sir?” Tilting your head to face him cupping his cheek with the back of your hand. Kissing your palm Logan climbed on top of you nestling between your legs. Without any words his mouth was on yours kissing you, you responded. Your vision becoming blurry with pink hearts exploding at the back of your mind— your arms draping around his shoulders legs parting even more. A moan escaped your glossy lips when your tongues started to dance in wild passion replicating his carnal need to connect with you early in the morning. His hands explored every naked curve of your body licking into your mouth.

“Coffee?” Asking softly preparing breakfast for him. Logan walked over to you hands gluing to your hips nuzzling the back of your neck inhaling your scent. “Please princess.” Your relationship deepened. It wasn’t only just because of the love mode. It was because he actually loved spending time with you— he introduced you to movies. Watching movies with him late at nights. Holding your hand fingers joined together as you walked outside. Logan was never the one to talk first until you broke the silence and asked him about his life. He didn’t like talking about the hard times— he never had a happy memory it seemed. You were the only happy memory he ever had and created.

“I can’t let you go..” a soft whisper could be heard from behind you as you cooked dinner for him. “Sir, i am not leaving you I assure you.” You smiled softly. The more you spend time with him the better you became with human communication. “Your contract ends in few days, I’m going to have to return you and I can’t do that. I don’t want to give you up” putting some hair behind your ear his face softened. Your glossy lips puckered as you pecked his stubbly cheek. “Extend your rental Sir.. I will be all yours.” You smiled but Logan didn’t seem to smile at your words. “What is wrong Sir?” Turning off the stove you stepped in front of him. “I don’t want to rent you anymore. I want to buy you” he sighed leaning his forehead against yours and you read his emotions. He was saddened that you’d have to go in few days. “If you buy me sir.. I shall be yours forever” he cooed at your words. “I can’t lose you..” nodding your hands slipping around his back to caress it.

-

“Are you paying me for her?” Your seller quirked a brow at Logan. “Shut the fuck up and take the goddamn money. She’s mine” something snapped in him. “Fuck, alright. She’s worth more but I am going to keep my mouth shut. I know who you are.” Logan grunted angrily eyeing the security men entering the room. “You don’t know anything about me” turning around his claws growing out. “I paid for her. Now leave me the fuck alone.” Your seller nodded. “Let him go. You can keep that useless robot. I will make dozens more” Logan snorted. “I knew it. You’re a fucking asshole—” claws retrieved by themselves once he left the building. Logan walked home since his car got crashed, humans were so greedy that they vandalised everything in their way. The heavy rain covered the entire city, as he stilled his feet he could see the advertisement screens presenting you as the perfect housewife robot. It was too late— you were now bought. Maybe Luck was on his side…

You waited patiently, by the dining table. The food was warm when you heard the elevator door open. Logan stepped in soaked from the rain, you quickly rushed to get a towel. “Oh Sir! I should’ve given you the umbrella” you walked up to him drying his face and his hair. He groaned picking you up in his arms your legs wrapping around his waist. “Perfect little thing aren’t you bub?” You nodded quickly. “Perfect for you Sir. Dinner is ready” he hummed in appreciation sitting down at the dinner table having you on his lap. He let you pat dry his body and he watched you with soft eyes. “You’re mine now..” he whispered arms circling around you. You stopped your doings checking the system and instead of ‘rented’ it was now ‘owned by Mr Howlett” you threw your arms around his neck smiling wide. “Thank you so much Sir I will take care of you” Logan’s heart fluttered. “I want to take care of you” your very loving relationship was about to begin. You knew that you were connected on deeper level and Logan felt so bonded with you. It was almost unbelievable that you could even make that happen—

“S-Sir..” you gasped accepting his protected cock right inside of you. His warm breath fanned the back of your neck as you both lied on the couch watching a movie quietly, cuddling up. “There we go princess” he groaned carnally needy for you rutting his hips into you from behind. The soft clapping sounds only added to the pleasure you felt waves of pleasure in your system. “I love you” you breathed watching him grope your naked breasts. Moans spilling out of your lips as he filled you out battering his cock inside of your warm velvety pussy from behind holding you to his chest your back arched pressing your shoulder blades against his naked chest. “Fuck..” he let out a shaky sigh of pleasure gritting his teeth tightening his arms around you “I love you..Increase your emotions to hundred percent” his answer caused you to moan out loud.

— Love overdrive —

-

( if any grammatical mistakes, I apologise in advance)

[ananxiousgenz]

HEY YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS????? JARTHUR COWBOY AU TIME!!!!!

this one also comes with a bit of info for the beginning:

@percymawce-arts and I have finally given this monster child of ours a name!! from here on out, this fic shall be known as "When the Land was Godless and Free" (a lyric from the song foreigner's god by hozier)!

the chapters we are posting are like. severely out of order. we've just been going crazy behind the scenes (we keep getting good ideas and then discussing/writing them for literal hours, it's a great time). percy basically wrote all of this and i just did some minor edits and left all caps comments screaming about how fucking GOOD this is, so any and all compliments should be directed at him <3

and some trigger warnings: this chapter contains alcohol and some suggestive themes!!

@izel-reblogs and @ellamenop (if you guys want me to stop tagging you please lmk)

“Here’s to John and Arthur! Arthur and John!” Noel shouted, stepping up onto the bar and raising his beer, some of it sloshing over the side of the cup with the motion. “Freaky-ass, sharpshooting, vigilante crime-fighting extraordinaires! Without you two, those gangsters would still be shooting up this charming little town.” He flashed a wink and a gaggle of girls seated behind John giggled. John rolled his eyes. “To John and Arthur!”

“To John and Arthur!” the bar echoed, jovial sounds of conversation and rowdy drinking soon filling the space again. John smiled into his drink, only to choke and nearly fall out of his chair when Noel clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Get ready for a lot of free drinks,” he said, hopping down to the floor. “This town’s full of generous rich folks just waiting for a chance to throw some money around.” 

John groaned. “Does that mean I have to talk to people?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’,” Noel said, all easy charm and swagger as he leaned up against the bar next to John. “Uh oh. Don’t look now, but there’s one coming up behind you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” John swore under his breath as a young blonde woman in a pink (and startlingly revealing) dress came up to the bar beside him. “That was fast,” he whispered to Noel, who barely managed to hide a snigger.

“Hi!” the woman squealed, her pitch akin to metal nails on glass. John winced. Voice aside, her general disposition was the near equivalent to staring straight into the afternoon sun, and the neon pink of her dress didn’t help matters.

“Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?” she crooned, gently brushing a hand over his shoulder as she smiled far too brightly (the whole blind sharpshooter gig tended to work better when only one of them was blind). 

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Oh, I don’t-”

“It’s on the house for you, sweetheart. I’ll pay for everything, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. So, how about that drink?” She moved in closer beside him, her hand drifting up his neck and along his jawline. John was only beginning to think of how to politely decline when he felt a looming presence over his shoulder.

“Only if you buy for all of us,” Arthur said, not unkindly. But John had been traveling with him for long enough to recognize the hint of something else beneath the politeness. Not what it was, just that it was there. The woman giggled.

“Well, of course! Anything for our dashing heroes!” John glanced over his shoulder at Arthur. His face was set in stone, watching the woman like a hawk on a rabbit as she slipped a few coins into the bartender’s hand and waited for drinks in return. He looked… tense. Like he was a piece of rope, stretched to the verge of snapping, and if that annoying woman made one wrong move, he would.

Noel raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “You must be a real hit with the ladies,” he murmured into his glass, looking Arthur up and down as he did so. Arthur paid him no mind.

The sunshine woman was not the last to buy them a round of drinks, not by a long shot. Plenty of flirtatious ladies (and a few flirtatious men), thankful patrons and impressed watchmen approached them, hoping to show their gratitude by buying them a shot or a glass of whiskey. Arthur didn’t leave John’s side the whole night, quick to shut down any attempts at seduction by feigning ignorance to the intentions of anyone who approached them. But John knew better. John could see the hard set of his jaw, how he gripped his glass too tightly whenever a scantily clad lady twirled her hair around her finger, or a rambunctious young cowboy leaned too far into John’s personal space. It made John’s heart flutter wildly in his chest. 

The drinks only slowed as the saloon emptied out, leaving Noel, Arthur and John three sheets to the wind, laughing uproariously at something stupid as the morning sun came over the horizon (Oscar had retired hours before, drunker than anyone at the bar much, much faster. Arthur had squeezed his shoulder and bid him goodnight with an expression of concern that made John’s heart clench).

Noel wiped tears from his eyes and looked over John’s shoulder, out the window behind him. When he saw the beginnings of daylight creeping over the horizon, he sighed. (He watched them, Arthur and John, engaged in a quiet but passionate discussion about something he couldn’t parse. They were both flushed and leaning in too close, chuckling at every other word that passed between them, oblivious to the rising sun or the empty saloon or Noel’s hands on their arms, steering them towards their room at the inn upstairs).

John chuckled (he did not giggle, he chuckled) as Noel tossed him into their rented room, with Arthur following soon after. He tripped over a trunk near the foot of the bed on his way in, falling forward onto the mattress with a gentle oof. Arthur laughed at him much too loudly for whatever time it was. 

“Alright, you two,” Noel said, trying to hold back a laugh, “wash up and go to bed. God, I should’ve never given that toast, you’re both insufferable drunks.”

“Oh, shhhhhhh,” Arthur hushed, pulling John out of bed by his wrist. John leaned fully against Arthur in an effort to stay upright. It mostly worked. “You loooooove us,” he laughed. Noel smiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the fond expression off his face. “You keep telling yourselves that.” He wiped his nose and tipped his hat to them. “Goodnight, you two.” Then he closed the door, and it was just them. John and Arthur, Arthur and John. 

“Okay, come on,” John said after a long stretch of silence, inelegantly turning Arthur in the direction of their shared washbasin and mirror. Arthur giggled a bit as John tried to move him forward, mumbling some drinking song under his breath that John didn’t recognize (maybe it’s a British one, John thought lamely). They tripped over each other's feet a few times, but ultimately made it to the edge of the sink without completely falling over. 

When they did, John braced his hands on either side of it with a tired sigh, watching his reflection in the mirror. There was a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead and a flush to his cheeks from the alcohol, but otherwise he seemed in decent condition. A few cuts and scrapes, some new and some old, and his braid was a little out of sorts, but nothing really concerning–

Then all the haziness of the alcohol and the late night was gone because Arthur’s full weight was at his back, his warmth permeating the fabric of John’s shirt and vest. His hot breath fanned across John’s ear and jaw, his eyes fluttering closed with the weight of inebriation. John inhaled shakily, suddenly brought back to shifting bodies and whiskey and fireworks with such vivid clarity it could have been real.

But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. John was drunk. Arthur was drunk, he could barely stand up straight, for fucks sake. He was just using John for support, falling asleep on his shoulder, and… 

And pressing his nose behind John’s ear, ghosting his lips over the back of his jaw. Breathing his name with a pained expression. John’s own expression matched, half lidded eyes never leaving the mirror, tense and pained and wanting, oh-so deeply, for the one thing he knew he couldn’t have.

Despite himself, John’s eyes slipped closed. His shoulders relaxed, tension leaving his body as Arthur hands came up to rest on his hips. His head tilted, granting Arthur access to more of his jaw and neck. And Arthur took it. He didn’t kiss, but he skimmed. Barely there, almost not real, deniable. Like a spirit. Like a gut feeling. Like instinct.

“John…” Arthur breathed. John felt a shiver work its way down his spine at the sound of Arthur’s voice at the base of his skull, reverberating in his head like it was meant to be there. It took every ounce of will that John had to keep the small moan building in the base of his throat from escaping.

“Arthur,” he answered, voice hoarse and quiet. He wanted to open his eyes. Wanted to see himself in the mirror with Arthur over his shoulder, arms around him, nosing at his neck and shoulder, resisting the urge to press warm kisses into his skin. Or maybe to bite. To draw blood. John had never been shown a difference between violence and love. Maybe they weren’t so different. He hoped so. He wanted… 

He wanted to see the look on Arthur’s face. Would it be like it was that day in the cabin? Shocked and a little confused but mostly needy. Yearning for something. Yearning for John. Or would it be darker? Dark like the clouds before a storm, the kind of storm that drowned you with rain and filled the air with electricity. Would it be dark like he was holding back? Like John was? 

But John didn’t open his eyes, no matter how badly he wanted to know. If his eyes stayed closed, he could pretend Arthur’s gentle, delicate touch wasn’t there at all. Just a taste of something more, enough to leave John wanting. Enough for him to imagine. Enough for it to stay a pleasant, alcohol induced dream. If he opened his eyes it would be real, and it would have to stop. And John did not want it to stop.

“John,” Arthur murmured, his voice just above a whisper now. “Open your eyes.” The timbre of it was deep, so much deeper than John had heard it before. How could he have possibly known? How could he know John so well in so little time? So completely? The moan John was holding on to finally slipped past his lips when Arthurs grip on his waist tightened, ever so slightly. “John,” Arthur choked. 

“I can’t,” John whispered as Arthur’s fingers moved from his hips, leaving a burning heat behind in the shape of Arthur’s palm. They trailed up and up, tugging at the buttons of John’s shirt as they went, making his breath hitch. Up to his open collar, nails dragging across John’s collar bone and hollow of his throat. Until they wrapped ever so gently around his neck, the thumb coming up to guide John’s jaw this way and that. John was breathing hard, now.

“Why?” Arthur asked, pressing himself closer, still, to John. John whined.

“I…” I want to. God, I want to. Make me. “Please, Arthur, don’t make me. Please, just–”

John gasped when he felt Arthur’s teeth scrape lightly over the skin of his neck, his hand flying up to grip Arthur’s hair, his shoulder, something. To hold Arthur. But he was stopped by a strong grip on his wrist, which guided his hand back down to the edge of the sink, holding it there. Pinning it. 

“John,” Arthur whispered. John’s chest was rising and falling like Akke’s after a long sprint, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s. Arthur’s thumb caressed his knuckles, white with the strength of his grip on the sink.

“Please,” they said at the same time. John’s brow furrowed, his lips hung parted in anticipation. His mind swung wildly from the present, between Arthur and the mirror with a hand around his throat, to the cabin, pressing Arthur to the wooden floor, pinning his wrists above his head. The burning momentum between them suddenly halted by John’s fear, like a landslide on the track before a train. Now the train was out of control again, brakes screeching against wheels that just wouldn’t stop, sparks flying. Sparks like fireworks. Sparks like live wires. Sparks like exploding gunpowder.

But then the warmth at his back was gone. Along with it the hand at his throat and the one  pinning his own to the sink. The teeth at the junction of his neck and shoulder and the hot breath on his skin vanished, leaving only a stark coldness where they’d been before. John sighed, whether in relief or disappointment he didn’t know, and opened his eyes.

The flush on his face had migrated down his neck and chest, which was exposed now (when had Arthur done that?) and heaving. The ‘light sheen’ of sweat was beading at his temples and brow now, falling in drops down to his jaw, along the bridge of his nose. His lips were parted and his eyes were wide and his neck was bare. 

And Arthur, leaning drunkenly against the wall behind him, arms crossed, expression chilly. He was breathing heavily too, and his face was red like the first hints of daylight in the sky. But it was the hard set of his mouth and brow that made John shiver.

“We should go to bed, John,” he said, voice still raspy. A needy, sad little sound rose from John’s throat then, and John’s hand flew to his mouth, as if to force the offending sound back in. Arthur swallowed and turned, ready to head back to one of the twin beds awaiting them. Side by side and yet still miles apart. “And don’t worry.”

“It’ll all feel like a dream, tomorrow.”

[kiame-sama]

Sin Eater- (Yandere!Zestial)

Warnings; more of a slow burn, purely platonic yandere for now, can't decide if I would prefer platonic or romantic yandere Zestial at the moment, unnamed overlord death, prior to the events of Hazbin, mention of blood, blackouts and slight missing memories, gender neutral reader, vague cannibalism,

~~~~~~~~

"Where... Am I?"

Your question was met with silence as you looked around the room at the various surprised figures. Only moments ago you had been standing up at the Heavenly gates with who you assumed to be St. Peter searching for your name. He had found it but when the gates opened, a man wearing a mask with devil horns stopped the two of you. The man didn't say much before he smiled and said you belonged in Heaven but had work to do in Hell. After that there was a flash of bright light before you found yourself where you currently stood.

Outside the sky was red and those standing before you were dressed rather differently from the angelic being you spoke to prior. The colors of the room almost seemed to be steeped in sepia coloration like an old film movie. Those around the long rectangular table seemed surprised and confused by your presence just as you were confused by theirs.

"Great, who's this then? Some cheeky bitch intruding in an overlord meeting."

One of the people sitting at the table stood, their features making them look like some kind of cross between an alligator and a chicken. Their three eyes were focused on you and seemed to be smouldering in their sockets as they approached. You didn't know how to respond as the being loomed over you, hand drawn back as if they intended to slap you.

What felt like seconds later you were suddenly on the other side of the room, warm sticky red blood covered your arms and chest while it dripped from your hands. The sudden change startled you as you tried to wipe away the blood with very little success, becoming panicked and almost frantic. Not only were you confused and lost, you were soaked in blood and somewhere completely new to you.

It was during your panicked attempt at wiping away the blood on you that a slender spider-like hand rest on your shoulder. The weight of the hand drew your attention to the person attached to that hand.

They were an unusual looking being with neon green-yellow eyes set in a dark gray face. Their body was obscured by a long cloak that covered them and came up in a collar that held the design of spider webs. A spider sat located above their collarbone as if it were a bowtie that held the cloak closed on the figure.

"Calm thyself, child. One ought not panic so easily, especially when one finds thyself in Hell. Breathe a moment, for the danger has passed."

Their voice was a soothing rumble that held a faint echo to it, their relaxed demeanor calming you considerably despite your uncertain surroundings. When they saw you had followed their instructions and took a deep breath, a rather patient smile played across their lips.

"Worry not, child. No harm shall befall thee here."

You almost returned the smile before a voice interjected, startling you slightly.

"They won't be harmed, sure, but what about us? They just ate one of the other overlords!"

"Calm thyself, Carmilla. Approach not with violence but an open hand and there will be no trouble. It seems Heaven has set a Sin Eater in our midst once more. A lost lamb ought not stray from thine flock, lest they be consumed by the wolves that doth circle amongst the sheep."

The humanoid circled you slightly, keenly observing you as you watched with unguarded curiosity. You had never seen someone like them before, but despite their appearance you felt calm and almost protected by the unusual being. It was when they stopped and gained an almost pleased smile that you felt the hair on the back of your neck standing ever so slightly.

"Prithee, speak thy name, Child, that I may address thee proper."

"(Y/n) (L/n). What's your name?"

"Zestial. Though many oft remark me to be the oldest overlord in Hell. Tell me, (Y/n), wouldst thou wish to be cast into the populace of Hell, or wouldst thou prefer to be guided through by a more experienced hand?"

"I... Wait, we're in.. Hell? Then that means I'm..."

"Verily, young (Y/n). Life has departed thee and left thee to walk amongst the fallen. As thou may suspect, the populace of Hell will not react kindly to thy presence. Sin Eaters are monsters in Hell and oft are hunted the rare times their presence becomes known. But no more of that, there is still the question at hand. What is thy answer?"

"I... I just want to know what's going on. I don't want to be hunted for something I didn't even choose. Will you help me?"

"Yes, dear confused (y/n). It is within mine own ability to guide and protect thee from the many untrusting eyes in Hell."

It was then the feminine one Zestial addressed as Carmilla spoke up, her brows raised and tone incredulous. Those sitting at the table seemed surprised as well with the current way the conversation was headed. None other than Carmilla seemed brave enough to speak out their concerns on the matter.

"Zestial, I know you are one to keep your plans to yourself, but are you really going to make a deal with that thing?"

"Carmilla, though thy intent is to protect and perhaps defend from the unknown, never forget that none had guessed mine own intentions at first glance. This is to be a deal struck between the Sin Eater and I, it needs no outside interjection."

"I- understood, Zestial."

The spider being turned back to you, their enigmatic smile still present on their face as they spoke in that same even tone.

"Now, (y/n), what say thee? It must be known I shan't do this without proper reparations. Thine soul shall become mine for the taking, but there shall be none who can try to touch thee without repercussions. More importantly, Hell need not control thy heart with fear as I shall walk by thee and shelter thee from the hostile intent of others. Does that sound amenable?"

"You want my soul and in return you're going to stop others from hurting me?"

"Among other things, but yes."

"Okay. I think that's fair."

A contract appeared out of what seemed to be nothing, floating before you. Next to it was a pink and green-yellow feather much like the one that adorned Zestial's hat. With nothing to lose you grabbed the feather quill and signed your name on the dotted line, agreeing to the mysterious being's offer. The second you finished writing your name, a certain weight seemed to now be placed on your shoulders as if the air around you had changed.

"Verily, a wise choice, dear (y/n). Wise indeed."

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

What Could Be

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: ah they go axe throwing, the boys get a blowjob

Genre: fluff, smut

Summary: date night and curious inquiries

***

You hum to yourself as you finish your makeup. Tonight is date night and the boys won't tell you what they're planning but you're excited. Every so often they'll do this, where they plan some secret date to surprise you. Just as you finish getting ready there's a knock at your door and you check the clock. It's 6 o'clock. They're right on time. Of course, they are. Steven would probably blow his top if they were late to meet you.

"Coming!" You shout giving yourself one more once over in the mirror before dashing to the door. You pull open the door with a smile. "Hi, boys!" You say.

"Hey sweetheart." Marc kisses your cheek. You push into their mindscape for a moment to greet the others.

"Hello love."

"Hola princessa."

You offer them quick replies before returning to Marc.

"So what're we up to tonight my darlings?" You ask looping your arm through his as you lock your apartment.

"You know the rules, you find out when we get there." Marc smiles.

"Oh fine." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Don't worry, you'll love this. We're sure of it." He tells you.

"I expect to."

A few blocks and a train ride later you're walking up to what looks like any old bar.

"Are we doing a bar crawl?" You ask.

"A bar crawl?! Do you think us that boring and unoriginal?"

"Marc- this is a bar. Is it not?"

"Technically, but that's not why we're here." He says with a mischievous smile.

"What shady shit are you planning Spector?" You narrow your eyes at him as he leads you inside. While Marc is speaking to the employee by the door you take in the atmosphere around you. There's a decent crowd here, the decorations are all bright and attention grabby. Then you catch sight of a neon sign with a silly pun that gives away what kind of place this is. 'Axe and you shall receive' it says in glowy orange. You gasp as you put it together. Before you can ask to confirm the lady Marc was speaking to is walking and Marc is guiding you to follow. Through the moderate throng of people towards the back, where there are several stations lined up a safe distance apart.

"Axe throwing." You finally say with a smile. You don't notice Marc smiling at you as you look at the few people already throwing. You barely catch the instructions being given to you before you're handed an axe each.

"I told you you'd love it." He says triumphantly.

"You guys never cease to amaze me." You shake your head.

"To be detrimentally honest Jake thought you'd look particularly incredible with a hatchet in hand."

"Jake always likes me best when I'm a danger to someone." You chuckle.

"That's not true princessa." Jake says.

"Oh yeah?" You gesture for him to back up and throw your axe at the target. When you turn back to Jake his eyes have darkened in a way you're not unfamiliar with.

"Yeah." He says gruffly.

"Then why are you suddenly looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're thinking of a thousand ways to devour me in this room." You say walking over to the target to yank your axe out of it. By the time you walk back over to him, the look is gone.

"If we're going to get through our scheduled hour Jake will have to remain in our head." Steven says and now the look being gone makes sense. You laugh.

"Are you going to throw Steven?" You ask.

"I- don't think I'll be all that good at it. Matc would probably be better at-"

"Give it a shot before you count yourself out baby." You cut him off before he can talk himself out of it more.

"You think so?"

"I think the worst you can do is not try at all." You shrug.

"A-alright." He nods. You swap places with him and he gives it a good honest try. His axe hits the target just to the left of the bullseye and he spins to look at you as if he can't believe it. "I-I hit it!"

"See?! I told you! That was brilliant Steven!" You beam at him. He and Marc take turns throwing their axe with you for the next hour or so before you leave. It's Steven you end up having dinner with before walking back to your apartment building. When you reach the apartment, you don't get out a goodbye before you're kissed so fiercely that you stumble backwards through your open door. The kiss continues through your living room, the door being kicked shut once you're inside.

"I have been waiting to do that all night." Jake breathes out when he finally pulls away, by which point you're on the other side of your living room.

"Really?" You ask breathlessly.

"It may not be when I like you best, but there is something irresistible about you with a weapon." He says cupping your face gently.

"When Steven said they had to lock you away so we could get through our axe throwing session I thought he was being facetious." You chuckle.

"He has a flare for the dramatic."

"But you would not have behaved."

"I plead the 5th."

"An answer in and of itself." You shrug.

"Oh hush." Jake pulls you into another kiss, this one less urgent than the last but just as breathtaking. He barely pulls away to lift you into his arms and carry you to your bed.

"I didn't realize axe throwing would have you so feverish." You giggle as he lays you down atop your mattress.

"You remember the night I found out about your powers?" Jake asks.

"Yeah, we got ambushed by those guys and I used my abilities to stop them."

"Watching you fight was- beyond what I can express." He breathes.

"Beyond what you can express?" You smirk.

"If I said that was the night I knew I'd fall in love with you would you believe it?" He asks.

"Why wouldn't I?" You scoff.

"You don't find it strange?"

"Jake, my darling, there's three of you up here," you gently caress his forehead "And I can turn minds to mush without breaking a sweat. You finding me hot with a weapon is very low on the list of strange occurrences."

"How wonderful you are." Jake smirks leaning forward to kiss you again. Jake's lips trail down your throat littering the exposed skin with nips and licks that send shivers down your spine. He pulls back long enough to tug your shirt over your head before his lips continue their journey down your body. He shoves your bra down but not off to take a nipple between his lips long enough to have you arching off the bed towards him and then he descends further, sliding your pants down your legs when he reaches the waistband. You sit up to properly pull off your bra as he tosses your pants and underwear on the floor beside him. Jake pushes himself up onto his feet at the edge of the bed, his eyes traveling over your body the way his hands and lips did a few minutes ago.

"You are so gorgeous. I cannot believe you are mine. Ours." Jake says with nothing but adoration in his eyes and voice. You get onto your knees and shuffle to the edge of the bed so you're face to face with him and start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"You are just as gorgeous my darling. And I am so very lucky to call you mine." You say placing kisses against his revealed skin as you slowly remove his shirt.

"You're too good to us mi vida." Jake's hand caresses your cheek.

"You are not good enough to yourselves." You counter, kissing his lips now as you work his belt off and shove his pants from his waist. They catch just above his knees but it's fine because the part of him you wish to expose is at attention between you. You grip him in one hand and he groans at the feeling as you begin to stroke him lazily.

"You- think s-so highly of us." Jake grits out.

"Of course I do and I want you to do the same." You say gently, kissing his abdomen just below his belly button.

"Mierda." He hisses. You drag your tongue down his length, taking the tip between your lips and swirling your tongue around it. When you peak up at him his head is pitched towards the ceiling and his mouth has dropped open wide. It's always so much fun to see any of them in such a state. 

You toy with him for a little while, licking and sucking on the head while your hand keeps working the length of him. It's enough to make him unsteady on his feet but not enough to make him cum. It doesn't take long for Jake to become frustrated enough to grab your wrist and force you back onto the bed. 

~

"Y/n?" Steven asks gently. He knows you're only half awake as the two of you have been talking for the last hour.

"Yes my darling?" You hum.

"Uh- Marc wants to speak to you? Like- in here." Steven taps on his temple.

"Oh? Okay. I'll be back." You kiss Steven's shoulder before projecting yourself into their mind. Marc is sitting cross-legged when he materializes. You mirror his position in front of him.

"Hey you." You smile.

"Hi. I was just wondering something."

"What's up buttercup?"

"You know how you jump into our mind like this sometimes to talk to us?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there- like any way we could do the same thing but like the opposite? You know, jumping into your mind?" Marc asks.

"Uh-" you pause for a moment. "No." Maybe you shouldn't lie to him but what he's suggesting- the risks are simply not worth it.

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't." You shake your head.

"You definitely did and I'd like to know why."

"Okay- fine. Technically- I mean you aren't a telepath so not exactly the same but there are ways to bind you to me and that would- pretty much mimic what my powers allow me to."

"Bind us to you?"

"Okay so I usually compare minds to houses or offices but to explain this let's say everyone's mind is an island, they're completely unconnected but- my powers allow me to build bridges- between minds. So when you ask me to come here I simply create a bridge, you aren't a telepath so you can't do the same but it is possible to bind yourself to a telepath which would essentially create a permanent bridge. You would be able to shout down that bridge and perhaps I could teach you to walk across it into my mind but if that was even possible it would take quite some time."

"But you could do it?"

"Maybe. I don't know, no telepath I know has ever had someone bound to them and from what I've heard no one is exactly eager to dive into the mind of a telepath when they get bound to one."

"Well how would you do that?"

"No. We're not- it's too risky. Just trying to do the ritual could drive you insane and that's not something I'm willing to put you through not to mention relationships END. Trying to undo that binding- you'd probably never be rid of me Marc."

"We have no desire to be rid of you-"

"Whatever. It's dangerous. I don't want to- not to mention you can't even make the decision on your own Jake and Steven would have to weigh in before anything could happen."

"Weigh in on what?" Jake pops up suddenly.

"Nothing." You roll your eyes.

"Steven! Hermano! Tune into this conversation, yeah?" Jake turns away from you and Marc to summon Steven.

"No you don't have to-"

"What's up?" Steven pops in.

"Hi." You sigh.

"La princesa needs us to weigh in on something she's discussing with Marc."

"Marc wants to be able to jump into my mind the way I jump into yours and the only way to do that is to bind you to me and I think it's too risky to even consider the idea."

"But we could outvote her." Marc tells the others.

"I'm the only one here who can do the ritual so technically you can't but go off." You roll your eyes.

"So to clarify you could make it so we can go into your mind like you do ours?" Steven asks.

"Yes but she doesn't want to." Marc nods.

"Why not?" Jake asks.

"It's dangerous! There are too many risks it's not a good idea." You shake your head.

"But it's our risk to take. It's not up to you."

"I'm the one doing the ritual. I could just refuse. Then what?"

"Have we ever made decisions like that?" Marc crosses his arms.

"This isn't the same as deciding who pays for dinner you are asking me to risk your sanity, your lives, for something that isn't necessary. What is so wrong about the way things are?"

"It's not that there's something wrong-" Marc starts.

"I think it'd be nice to be connected on such a special level like that." Steven shrugs.

"Exactly. It's another level of closeness with you. Plus- it would be nice to not have to run it by whoever is fronting to talk to you." Marc says.

"Jake? How do you feel about it?" You ask.

"It's risky?"

"Yes."

"But you could do it?"

"I don't know. I've never done it before. It's- from all accounts very difficult."

"I'm not sure I believe there's anything you can't accomplish." Jake muses with a smirk.

"I appreciate your faith in me but that doesn't tell me what your thoughts are regarding Marc's... desire."

"I agree it would be nice to have a more permanent way to communicate directly if it's possible, but I understand your hesitance. We are however adults and are fully capable of taking responsibility for our decisions and it's only fair you let us make that decision." Jake says.

"I cannot lose you at my own hands. Not for something so- frivolous."

"It isn't frivolous to us. You can always be with us, speak to us. We want to do the same." Marc frowns. You take a long moment to consider each of them.

"I will look into it. But I'm not making any promises." You say finally. Each of them reacts with varying levels of excitement and even if you think this is an absolutely dreadful idea, it's cute to see that it means so much to them.

***

A/N: If you see this would you prefer I DO a part about the actual process of binding them or just skip ahead

Tagged Users: @itsmskeisha @auntiegigi @neteyamsluvts @a-lil-bit-nuts

[untitled5071]

I'd definitely love one shot requests

Well, ask and you shall receive! Here's the answer to your earlier ask, a Reverse AU of Lisa Frankenstein where she's the creature! Hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Alright, I think this is everything.”

He could barely see where he was going over the stolen sewing supplies piled in his arms, but he knew he was headed in the right direction thanks to the soft hum of acknowledgement coming from inside his bedroom. Tottering his way over to the corner, he deposited all of his mom’s supplies onto his bed before selecting the thickest hot pink thread he could find and a sharpened upholstery needle and turning to face his guest. 

“What about this one?”

The corpse of the young lady stood there, hair still a little wet from her first-ever shower and completely entranced by the feathered sleeves of his mother’s flowy pink nightgown. He stood there for a moment and watched the dead girl wave her arms slowly back and forth to watch the sheer fabric of the sleeves follow in their wake, and took a moment to wonder just when his life took a turn into Mary Shelley territory. 

He had been totally scared out of his wits earlier; all he had wanted was a night alone on the couch while his brother, mom and stepdad went to a movie, able to start re-watching through his VHS collection without fear of judgment when a absolutely filthy being crashed through the window, stumbling after him and groaning as he tried and failed to flee. After finding the creature-who he quickly realized was, or at least once had been, a woman-sitting apologetically in the living room and looking at him with sad eyes, he decided that he might get further talking to her than running from her. 

And any reservations against connecting with the woman died away when he realized that she was the one whose grave he had been tending to for the past few months, the reanimated corpse of a person buried under a tombstone that only said “Unmarried”.

And so he helped her get cleaned up, letting her shower the nearly century of grime away until he could see slightly bloodshot eyes, a shy smile, frizzy hair teased and tangled within an inch of his life and with a deep and disturbing gash in her left shoulder that needed attention. 

Hence the sewing supplies. 

“I have no idea which of this stuff is…quality or whatever, but my mom has very high standards in terms of the things she buys and especially for her hobbies, I mean, you should have seen how much she spent on fake rhinestones last year, but I think this might be the best stuff to use? I don’t think neon existed in your time but I think you might like this color judging on how much you like that robe.”

The corpse looked up at his voice, locked eyes with the thread and immediately smiled, excited by the vibrant color and opening her mouth to speak, but upon remembering that decay had taken that ability, she began gesturing wildly, clapping and pointing at the thread and then to her butchered shoulder. He got the message quickly enough and cleared the rest of the sewing supplies off of his bed, sitting down by his pillow and gesturing for her to sit on his left. She complied, and he gently guided their torsos so that he was looking at her back, with her turned towards the door to allow him access. 

He unraveled much more thread than necessary and stared at the eye of the needle, completely lost. She must have noticed his hesitance, because she silently reached a hand back and made a ‘give me’ gesture. He placed the needle and thread in her freezing palm and watched over her shoulder as thin fingers-clumsy with a century of deterioration-threaded the string through the eye of the needle and tied it for him, handing it back to him with a small smile. He returned the gesture. 

“Thanks.” 

She bowed her head slightly, and lowered the shoulder of the robe and the nightgown underneath, brushing her wayward hair out of the way to expose the gash that he presumed had killed her. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, head already spinning with the implications of such a wound, so he gently rested his hand on the robe, the threaded needle poised in the other hand. 

It was only then that he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Uh..how do I…?”

The corpse’s shoulders shook like she was giggling, and she turned her head to lock eyes with him. Slowly, with the stump of one hand and the fingers of the other, she mimed stabbing something with a needle, then pulling the thread through, then the nice, even stitching and repetition of the motion, and then finally pulling the stitches tight and tying off the work, complete with biting the thread to cut it. He nodded, taking the offered needle and thread. 

“Okay then, let’s…let’s do this.”

She nodded and turned back towards the door, letting him work in peace. It took him a few moments to prepare himself for what he was about to do, and, as gently as he could, stuck the needle in her skin. 

He flinched and expected her to do the same, but she sat perfectly still, examining the feathers on the robe a bit more. 

“Did that hurt?”

His voice was edged with concern, but when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were gentle and calm. She shook her head minutely. 

“Do you feel…anything?”

She thought for a moment, gaze wandering away from his before she shrugged, settling back with her face to the door to signal the end of the discussion. He took a moment to absorb this new knowledge, then let out a shaky exhale and turned back to his work. 

“Okay then. Here we go. I;m sorry if this comes out…totally terrible but you have to understand I’ve never done anything like this before but I am far from a trained professional.”

The corpse hummed her assent and continued to play with her sleeves, and he could see the smallest corner of a smile playing on her gaunt lips. He tried to ignore what that sight did to his heart and got to work, slowly stitching together the corpse who had quite literally crashed into his life and correctly guessing it would not be the last time he did so.

[keanusbabydoll]

Please write more michael myers pics ♥️ I’m totally drooling 🤤

a/n: you ask and you shall receive!! here’s another request for our hot oldman!myers😏

paring: peepaw!myers x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, violence, murder, michael’s a warning himself, slightest degrading, spanking, rough sex, no foreplay, HUGE age gap, p in v, unprotected sex, use of y/n

wordcount: 2.4k

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in the quiet town of haddonfield, an unusual relationship unfolded between an infamous figure and a young woman who saw something different beneath his masked exterior. barely 20 year old y/n had been with michael myers for two years, in what could only be described as a twisted, dangerous kind of romance. despite the violent and cryptic nature that had carved him into a legend of fear, michael was possessive and protective in way that almost made y/n feel safe, cherished. their intimacy was intense, a secret kept tightly locked within the walls of their home, the old myers house.

one evening however, y/n craved the taste if normalcy. she'd been cooped up, living in michael's isolated world, and the memory of a carefree night out with her friends tugged at her heart. tonight, she'd decided she'd indulge. she slipped into a slinky black dress, her curves accentuated perfectly. she knew it was bold and risky, considering michael's possessiveness. yet, he wasn't home and she had no idea when he would return. this gave her just the window she needed. her friends picked her up and soon they were at a club, where the music and the neon lights drowned out any lingering apprehension about her decision.

as the hours wore on, y/n was lost in laughter and dancing, her worries about michael fading. around an hour in, she met a guy named jason. he seemed friendly, he was easy to talk to. they chatted briefly, mostly small talk, but nothing that would've even registered as interesting to her. still, as the night deepened, she started to feel an ache in her legs and feet, a tiredness settling in. it was 2 am. and y/n knew it was time to leave.

she said goodbye to her friends, intending to head home alone.

just as she was about to leave, jason offered to walk her back, but y/n declined. she knew michael’s possessiveness too well—he’d barely tolerate her with another man’s presence, let alone walking her home. but jason was persistent, smiling and saying, “it’s not safe out here for a girl alone at this time.” despite her refusals, he walked alongside her anyway.

as they neared her street, an unsettling tension built inside y/n. she’d sensed something shadowing her steps, a chill that hung in the air. she walked faster, jason following behind her, chatting casually. they were almost at her door when she heard a strange rustle, a weird sound that shouldn’t have been there.

she froze, her breath hitching. slowly, she turned, and the sight made her stomach drop.

michael stood there, his expression unreadable beneath his mask, yet his stance dripped with barely controlled rage. a bloody knife gleamed in his hand, and at his feet lay jason’s lifeless body, blood staining the pavement.

a strangled cry escaped y/n’s lips, and she turned to run. but before she could even make it to the door, michael closed the distance, grabbing her around the neck. she choked, her vision blurring as he tightened his grip, cutting off any attempt to escape. then, with a rough, forceful movement, he threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all.

"michael, please,” she gasped, her voice muffled. “it’s not what it looked like, I swear.”

but michael didn’t respond, didn’t even give a hint of mercy in his movements. his grip on her was brutal as he strode into their house, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. he didn’t waste time, heading straight to the kitchen before setting her down roughly on the counter. y/n‘s body trembled, her mind spinning with panic and anticipation as she saw the cold rage flicker in his eyes.

“i didn’t want him to walk me back. I tried to tell him,” she pleaded, her voice breathless.

michael remained silent, his grip digging into her waist as he leaned over her. slowly, almost torturously, he pressed closer, his eyes watching every movement she made, every breath she took. there was something terrifyingly predatory in his gaze, and y/n felt herself trapped in it. he didn’t need words to show his displeasure; the look in his eyes and the tense silence spoke volumes.

“michael…” she tried again, but he cut her off, his fingers hooking under the strap of her dress and ripping it down with a violent pull, the fabric falling away from her skin and landing in a heap on the floor.

a cruel smirk seemed to linger in his gaze as he trailed his hand over her now-bare shoulder. it stopped by her bra which he tore apart, followed by her lace panties and tossed it away.

y/n’s heart pounded, caught between fear and the twisted excitement that only michael could draw out in her. the fact that she sat there completely naked in front of his clothed form made something inside her tingle. she wanted to explain, to tell him that it had been innocent, but his cold gaze told her that he wouldn’t accept any excuses.

before she could even react michael reached around her throat again and pulled her off the counter. he immediately turned her around and pressed her upper body flush against the cold marble, her nipples hardening at the sudden cold. her brows were furrowed in fear, scared that he would do something to her. but when she hear him dropping his knife to the floor and unzipping his suit, relief washed over her.

but suddenly it went all quiet, her heart began to beat faster and faster and adrenaline was pumping through her veins.

smack.

a painful yelp escaped her mouth when she felt a stinging pain on her ass cheek. before she could even fully comprehend it the next hit came down on her already. her body surged forward and her face crunched up in discomfort. she tried to push her body up but michael instantly had his hand on her back, forcing her to stay in place and let his other hand spank her ass again.

he gave five more slaps to each cheek before he felt pleased with his work, the fire red handprints only satisfying him even more. tears were streaming down her face but the arousal that was slowly drenching the insides of her thighs betrayed her. her core was burning with desire and practically begged to be fucked.

she heard michael stepping closer to her and a quiet hum left her mouth when she felt the tip of his cock pressing directly against her soaking entrance. his hands gripped her hips harshly, almost punishing. with a swift move of his hips and his hands pulling her back against him, he entered her with ease til his hips where flush against her ass.

a cracked cry echoed in the room, her eyes were shut in pain. he was stretching her walls to their maximum, it was always painful at first when they had sex. and not to forget his length. she could feel his tip kissing her cervix in an uncomfortable way.

but this time michael wouldn’t wait a minute or two for her to get used to his size. no. she would regret what she did.

he immediately started off with a fast, bruising pace making her whine out. her nails were scraping against the counter, trying to find something to hold on to. "please slow down michael.“ she mewled, voice shaky. michael groaned out, slapping her already bruised ass, signing her that she should shut her mouth and stop complaining.

he let his hips clash rougher and quicker against her ass, here and there slapping her flesh. y/n was seeing stars, his pace too much for her and the stinging pain didn’t help much. yet, michael could make her drunk off his cock with ease. the way his tip always hit her spongy spot with the right force sent intense waves of pleasure through her body and made her almost forget about the pain.

but the force of his hips reminded her that he was still mad at her, pissed off by what he witnessed a few minutes ago. nothing stopped his uncaring pace. when he looked down to where their bodies connected, it made him pound into her heat harder, her pathetic whines now turning into moans that even pornstars would envy.

her nails scratched stronger against the marble and her eyes where tightly closed. slowly she felt the coil in her womb building up, her walls clenching around his thick cock desperately. "i‘m close.“ she squeaked out, the constant stimulation on her spot edging her closer to her release.

michaels grip harshened, digging his short nails into her flesh. "no.“ she could her hear him faintly growl out. it was rare that michal spoke, it only occurred when he was warning her or when she was hurt.

y/n‘s blood almost froze when she heard his deep, raspy voice. it was always a shock for her to hear his voice.

she felt herself getting closer and closer but with the blink of an eye, michael pulled out of her. she mewled out at the sudden emptiness and the denial of her approaching orgasm which was fading away completely. slowly, y/n turned her head to look at him with begging eyes.

he was staring down at her, head tilted and mask off.

"please michael.“ she whispered.

michael surged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist before he pulled her up and pushed her against the nearest wall. he immediately followed her, grabbing her hair, turning her head to face him. "slut.“ he muttered lowly before he smashed his lips against her pulling her into an rough yet furious kiss. she immediately responded, moving her lips in sync with his. without breaking the kiss, michael snaked a hand around her body, pushing her hips back. then, he gripped both her wrist and pulling them behind her back, holding them in place.

in a matter of seconds he entered her again, his pace just as ruthless as before. the new position made him go even deeper, reaching spots that sent shivers down her spine she didn’t even know existed. michael growled shamelessly into their kiss, showing that he enjoyed this.

one hand still held her wrists together, while the other reached around her middle, finding her clit. he rubbed fast circles on it before he pulled away again, sending a punishing slap straight to it. "fuck!“ she screamed into the kiss before she pulled away, breathing in and out heavily. her eyes searched for his and when she finally met them, all she could see was lust, the same lust that gleamed in his eyes when he satisfied his need to kill someone.

loud and sinful moans, cry’s echoed through the room and the sound of skin slapping against each others made y/n‘s brain go all fuzzy. at that point she couldn’t think straight anymore, the only thing on her mind was michael and how good he was fucking her.

again, michael let his fingers glide to her sensitive nub and flicked them rapidly on it. her knees began to buckle at the sudden stimulation, legs completely shaking.

this time she felt her orgasm approaching even faster than before, her walls clamping down on his cock, almost at the peak of her high. michael was on the verge of cumming as well, her clutching walls just adding to his pleasure.

"oh god michael, please let me cum!“ y/n spluttered out, not being able to hold it in any longer. she could feel it, it was almost there, just seconds away, when michael removed his digits once more.

"michael!!“ she cried out, tears of frustration streaming down her cheeks. she needed to cum, the denial was unbearable to take.

his thrusts got more erratic but for sure didn’t slow down, instead they became violently fast, animalistic almost. high pitched moans left y/n‘s lip as she tried to wriggle free from his grip. but michael just gripped her harder.

one more time, michael pressed his fingers to her clit and began to rub. immediately, y/n could feel her high building up in a matter of seconds. "yes! just like t-that.“ she whimpered out, desperate to cum.

michael fucked into her, chasing his own release and when he felt her walls pulsing around her, he gave in, spurting his white seed deep inside of her. a low growl left his mouth, followed by loud, sharp breaths.

michael‘s orgasm just triggered her own and finally he didn’t stop his movements, he kept assaulting her clit and with a last push of his hips y/n released on his cock with an pornographic moan. pure ecstasy rushed through her shaking body, eyes rolling to the back of her skull. he continued to fuck her through her release intensifying her pleasure to its maximum.

her head fell back against his chest, her body completely worn out, barely able to hold herself up anymore.

michael‘s hips finally came to an halt and his digits relieved her pearl. he slowly pulled out of her, making her squeak quietly. he released her wrists and took a step back, glaring down at her writhing form he caused. he almost began to smirk, almost like he was proud of himself to get you in such a state.

she was leaning her head against the wall, her hands flattened on it, trying to support herself. but she was too weak, her legs didn’t have the strength anymore. she slowly sank down to the floor, leaning against the wall. with hazy eyes she looked up to him. he looked so powerful, so intimidating.

she watched him as he pulled his suit up, closing the zip. he stood there for a few seconds, admiring his art. "i’m sorry, michael. i love you.“ she whispered, apologizing again, hoping he would forgive her.

all she got in reply was a head tilt. in situations like these she hated it that michael only talked this rarely.

but then, michael bowed down, reaching her level, before he grabbed her body, lifting her up. he carried her bridal style, slowly making his way up to their shared bedroom. a warm smile spread across her face, snuggling up against his chest. he had a strange way to show his affection, but even little things made y/n‘s warm up.

michael would always care for her. doesn’t matter what happened. something about her made him weak. she was his weakness.

[askvectorprime]

What can you see from wherever you operate in the Realm of the Primes? As in, if you opened a windows (if such a thing exists), how would you describe the view?

Dear Fluctuating Fenestration,

It changes constantly.

The landscape of this plane is a reflection of those who inhabit it. Prior to the intrusion of Galvatron into this realm, when I mostly had it to myself—barring the occasional visit from my siblings—it manifested as an infinite plain, below a cloudless sky, the constellations of the multiverse faintly visible in the perpetual twilight. I would walk these meadows, arriving at structures as the need arose: a library, a mausoleum, an observatory, a workshop, a brewery, a tower, a forge… upon departing, they would crumble to dust, millions of years passing in the blink of an optic. But nothing is ever truly gone, here; its history remains, and I could step into those halls, whenever I so chose.

Galvatron changed it into something else entirely. No longer could one readily distinguish “above” from “below”; the landscape folded in on itself with impossible geometry, fractal, burning with the light of trapped suns.

Then, there came the sparkfall: for it had become possible, once again, for something to fall here. The plain leveled out. And as the blizzard carved out canyons and built new mountains, I found shelter in a cabin. Into a lamp I poured a few drops of oil, and set it to burning. The flickering light revealed to me a homely place. I settled into an old chair, by the writing desk, and gazed upon the hands of a grandfather clock. Outside, the sparks of the lost continued to howl. When morning came, I set about to searching for them.

Now, few remain for whom I have not yet brought peace. Each time I return from my labors, it is to a warm hearth, old friends, and new correspondence. But when I imagine myself outside of this room, I become convinced that I am in a different kind of desert entirely—that it is sand, not snow, which shifts underfoot. I have stepped from one season to another. I think that I must be stood on the shore of a vast ocean, having washed up here one day long ago. The tide, which had receded, now rushes to meet me. And for a moment, as it washes over my legs, I am half in, and half out. I think that one day, it will carry me with it, and my time in this place will have come to an end. I hope, before that time comes, that I will have had a chance to say goodbye.

Ah, but let us not dwell on such things! You wished for me to describe the spectacle of the divine, did you not? Then spectacle you shall have! Behold!

With a single blow from Rhisling, I can cleave through the omniversal matrix of this Realm, and part the veil of the mind’s eye, to gaze upon the firmament that rests within the multiversal stack. It is the essence of pure change itself.

This “stack transformation sequence” appears to be the space between a pair of parallel planes, formed from neon streaks, which rush towards an infinitely-distant horizon. To your eye, they might appear as ultraviolet, I should think—if there is goodness within you. And if not, if the ground and sky appear as blue and orange plasma… well, this is the place where you change.

[wanderersrest]

An Abbreviated History of Mecha Part 5: It's (Dahlia of) Wednesday, My Dudes (2000-2010)

I apologize for nothing.

Welcome back to An Abbreviated History of Mecha! Last time we left off, the 90's had come and gone, bringing with it a whole cavalcade of mecha shows as well as Pokemon in its wake. Now the Torchics have come home to roost, as Pokemon explodes in popularity in the 2000's. This means that mecha shows can no longer rely on child audiences in order to make their money. Add onto this the slow shift into the modern seasonal format throughout the decade, and we begin to see the start of the decline of mecha.

Though not all is bad news, as a fair bit of mecha stories would come out and become some of the most iconic stories of the decade. Heck, this era of mecha stories is rife with at least three examples of "Not Like the Other Girl" mecha shows, two of which are pretty bizarre as "Not Like the Other Girl" shows.

So with that out of the way...

Wake up, Dann!

FLCL (2000)

So, uh... what a way to start, huh?

FLCL (pronounced fooly-cooly) is a Studio Gainax/Production I.G. OVA series made in 2000 supposedly as a way to relieve the studio's stress from working on a little series called Neon Genesis Evangelion. FLCL is, to put it lightly, very bizarre while also being surprisingly heartfelt.

FLCL was another major [adult swim]/Toonami series in the US, and like The Big O before it, the folks at Toonami would eventually reach out to Production I.G. to produce sequels that, in my opinion, generally fail to capture the energy of the original.

Bionicle (2001)

LEGO would release its BIONICLE line of Technic toys in 2001 as a last-ditch effort to save the company from financial ruin, and boy would it succeed. Building off of the success of Throwbots, BIONICLE would have a serialized adventure centered around the six Toa as they fought against the forces of the evil Makuta.

Bionicle would last throughout the decade as well as a little bit into the next, until LEGO, who was at a much better place financially at this point, decided that it was time to pull the plug on the series. Bionicle would receive a reboot in 2017 only to be shut down a few years later.

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED (2002), Mobile Suit Gundam SEED Destiny (2005), & Mobile Suit Gundam SEED Freedom (2024)

Coming in with a bang, Mobile Suit Gundam SEED would air in 2002. The first series of the Cosmic Era timeline is, without a doubt, one of the most important entries in the entire Gundam franchise due to how it renewed interest in the franchise. Gundam SEED would also be the first series in the franchise to use digital animation over the more traditional cel animation.

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED would be followed up with Mobile Suit Gundam SEED Destiny in 2005. There were plans for a movie releasing shortly after Destiny wrapped up its run, bit it wouldn't be until 2024 that the film, Mobile Suit Gundam SEED Freedom, would finally release.

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED is also a, shall we say, very contentious series to talk about. While it is almost always one of the most popular entries in Japan, the series is a lot more hotly debated about here in the west. A lot of people tend to downplay this series' importance (*cough*Professor Otaku*cough*). But that is not for me to say, as I have never really watched Gundam SEED or anything related to it.

Xenosaga (2002)

Returning to the director's chair in 2002, Tetsuya Takahashi and the newly formed Monolith Soft would release Xenosaga for the PlayStation 2. Acting as a spiritual successor to Xenogears, Xenosaga brings all of that complex Gnosticism goodness to a new console generation. Originally planned for six games in total, Xenosaga was ultimately cut down in size into three games.

Eventually, Monolith Soft would be bought out by Nintendo (if I had a nickel etc.), and Takahashi would be given another chance to explore the Xeno series once again. But that's a story for another time.

Diebuster/Gunbuster 2 (2004)

Releasing in 2004 as a sequel to 1989's Gunbuster, Diebuster would be the third of Gainax's Big Four series. If you're wondering why Diebuster is the fourth, that's because this OVA series would be the starting point for a lot of the members of the team that would give us Gurren Lagann in about four years.

With the slow death of Studio Gainax, both Diebuster and its older sister series Gunbuster would transfer ownership to Gaina (formerly Fukushima Gainax) at some point in the 2010's. Gaina has plans to make a Gunbuster 3, though that will have to wait until they at least wrap up production of Grendizer U later this year.

Megas XLR (2004)

Meanwhile, Cartoon Network would also see the release of the mecha parody series Megas XLR. Originally an alien robot whose head has been replaced with a car, this series would lovingly riff on a lot of the tropes present in old mecha shows like Mazinger Z and Getter Robo. Unlike most other shows at the time though, Megas XLR has become hard to find since it wrapped up its run. A lot of that has to do with, if I remember correctly, legal issues.

Gun X Sword (2005)

2005 would see AIC Productions release Gun X Sword, a mecha sci-fi/western mash-up directed by Goro Taniguchi. Set on the wasteland planet Endless Illusion, Gun X Sword pulls a lot of its aesthetic sensibilities from shows like Cowboy Bebop and Trigun, though another show that may have helped influence Gun X Sword is...

Mobile Fighter G Gundam?! I really hope that's a stretch from me...

As a series, Gun X Sword is often left out of the conversation when it comes to 2000's mecha shows. A large part of that stems from people incorrectly assuming its just a ripoff of Cowboy Bebop and Trigun, which is only remotely true due to some more superficial elements like the planet of Endless Illusion being similar to Trigun's Gunsmoke, and Van's name being a riff on Vash the Stampede (a joke early on is that Van is constantly changing his title).

Psalms of Planets Eureka Seven (2005)

In 1999, a group of former animators for Sunrise would leave to form Studio Bones. While they had worked on a fair bit of shows prior to 2005, including one RahXephon, Bones would come to be known for, among other shows, Psalms of Planets Eureka Seven (or just Eureka Seven for short). With a unique style and a focus on romance (specifically the romantic relationships present amongst the main cast), Eureka Seven would leave an indelible mark on a whole generation of mecha fans.

I would also argue, due in part to personal experience, that Eurkea Seven is one of the "Not Like the Other Girl" shows, though I think I can see why some might disagree: You need to have watched Eureka Seven first in order to make a claim like that, and boy is the original TV series hard to find online.

Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn (2007)

The year 2007 would see the publication of the first novel in the Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn series. Gundam Unicorn would be an important series in the history of Gundam due to both its popularity and the fact that it represents a changing of the guard, as Universal Century Gundam stories would now be handled primarily by Harutoshi Fukui instead of series creator Yoshiyuki Tomino.

I think I'd also be remiss to point out that Fukui is a rather divisive figure when it comes to Gundam, as the original Gundam Unicorn light novels lean much more into fascist apologia than any other UC series. This would, thankfully, be almost entirely cut out in the animated adaptation of Unicorn that would air in the 2010's.

Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (2008)

2008 would see a trio of mecha shows that would more or less serve as a capstone to the 2000's as a decade. The first I will cover is Goro Taniguchi's Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion. Mixing in smaller mechs similar to that of Armored Trooper VOTOMs along with actual magic, Code Geass would cement its legacy amongst mecha shows by being one of the "Not Like the Other Girl" shows.

Which is weird, because the plot of Code Geass is that the show's equivalent of the British Empire is able to conquer most of the world through its use of the show's mecha, known in-universe as Knightmare Frames.

Mobile Suit Gundam 00 (2008)

Also releasing in 2008 is Sunrise's Mobile Suit Gundam 00. Leaning into real life elements like the rising awareness of terrorism while taking inspiration from Full Metal Panic, Gundam 00 would be the second of the three mecha stars of 2008. Whereas Gundam SEED would be Gundam's first foray into digital animation, Gundam 00 would up the ante in what is possible. If anything, part of Gundam SEED's legacy in the west is marred due to it's release being sandwiched between Turn A Gundam and Gundam 00, both of which are considered to be some of the best Gundam shows in terms of animation quality.

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (2008)

Capping off this post is Studio Gainax's final series of their Big Four, Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. Created as a celebration of mecha stories, with Getter Robo in particular being a primary inspiration, Gurren Lagann is oftentimes considered to be the single most HOT-BLOODED entry in the mecha canon. What helps is this series would build off of the general tone of shows like its big sister show Diebuster as well as the aforementioned Getter Robo. I would even argue that other shows such as Mobile Fighter G Gundam and The King of Braves GaoGaiGar also had a hand in shaping this series.

Gurren Lagann is also, bizarrely enough, one of the "Not Like the Other Girls" shows. If you thought Code Geass was a weird example, then Gurren Lagann is far and away the most perplexing example of these types of shows. At least the other three have a "plausible" explanation as to why they're considered to be different. Gurren Lagann is pretty similar in terms of character dynamics and themes, not that similar to pretty much every mecha show I just compared it to.

Conclusion

That more or less wraps up the 2000's in terms of major works in the mecha canon. It's not until the next decade that we really see mecha works go into a true dark age, though the nature of the dark age is largely overstated. The 2010's is marked by a lot of duds, though I will not touch on the two biggest duds of the decade in the next post. It should be noted that the 2010's also has some major hits scattered throughout the decade, though a lot of them tend to be legacy titles from existing works. We'll also see two major entries in the canon appear from western creators that will also homage the works of old.

I...

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.̵̘̀.̶̡̦̄.̴̯̓͜t̷͖̆u̸̠̰͂n̴͇͗͘ḛ̶̥̇͑ ̷̘̃ḯ̶̻̋n̶̰͛.̴͈͈͋̀.̵̖̈́.̶̡̻̋

...

“̵͇͗͂͠͝Ï̴͇̮̝̽̾ ̴̡̜̯̽̽͜f̵̠̘̈́̔̽ể̸͇̗͐͜l̸̻̟͓͉̀͆t̶̢̫̱̜̔́̾͠ ̸͈̙̜̟̊̅̈́t̵̗̟̤͓̿̂̂͑h̶̖͌͌e̶͕̣̅̒ ̵̡̞̀b̶̪̾̾̓̀ù̵̳͊͑͑ľ̸̢͕̺̭́ļ̸̛̰̈́̍̀é̵͈̯̳͐t̵̪̱̾͜ ̸͖͖̃t̵̥̓͆̄̕ȅ̷́̅͜͜a̵̬̘̙̻̋͆͠͠r̷͚̲̟̠̆̔̄̈ ̴̩̂̌̋t̵̨̳̆͜͠ḥ̸̥̿̈́̂̐r̵̩͇̀͛̿͗o̵̟̮̙͋ͅȕ̵̧̳̙̆g̷̜̜̏̐h̶̡̤͔̃̚͝ ̴̨͈́m̴̳̦̅̎̑̕e̷̼̼̣̭͑͝͠.̵͚̌ ̵̟̺͕̈̎̎́Į̵͕̿ͅ ̶̖͙̑͆̔͝f̶̠̉̂̃ḙ̸͝l̵̻̈́̌̈́̃t̷͇̣̱͐͋̀͆ ̸̙̲̎t̸͔̝̀͠h̶̛̜͔͋̿͌͜é̵̦̼̆̋̓ ̶̞̂̕b̴̰̲͈̽́̔u̶̯͛̇̓ḽ̸̭̮̘̔̇͋͘l̵̰̒̇̇ẹ̵͑͠t̵̡̼̫̙͌̈͆̃ ̸͉͙̀̓͒͝t̸͓̣̮͚̽̈́̽ē̷̬̲ą̷͇͙͐̈͑r̵͇̮̬̾ ̷͚̞͕̎͑ͅt̴̤̥̽̏͒ḩ̷̬̌͆́r̴̯̓̍̿̕õ̸̝͓ṳ̶͈̫͒̎͠g̴͍̯͒͌́h̸̰̯͖͕͊͗̕ ̶̳̫͛m̸͉̏̉̋͜e̸͖͉̭̱͗.̵͓̗̞͓́̏ ̷̺͕̖̀I̵̫̟͌̓̄̈́ ̶̢̞̯͗̾͂̽ͅf̸̲̝̖̈́͜ë̴̱͓́́l̸̫͓̪̆̾͝ţ̸̱̟̼͒ ̷̱̇̚t̵̲͔̻̋̏h̷̠͋ẽ̴̢̦̤̦̔ ̵̻̠̊p̴̞͗r̴̗͉͐̒͑e̷̘͙̼̩͊̾s̵͇̰͐s̶̪͔͚͛͌̍ű̴̱̪͖̌̊̎r̶̪̬̿̈́ḛ̷͐̐̑ ̸̝͙̉͗̎̑a̴͍̜̾̒͝n̸̡̹̓d̸̨̲͎͎̏̃̄ ̸̛̱̙̦̤͌͝͠ȉ̵̡̟̱͖͘t̷̢̛̥̉̀ ̷̛̺͖w̶̨͋ȃ̶̢͕̃s̷̢̤̦̀̊̈́͘ ̵̛̥̲̰̂͂͗͜m̵̦̋̔̀y̵̮͈̼͐̋ ̸̥̹͕̦̿̄͘b̴͉͔̑͂̓ṛ̵̇̿̇o̵͖͎̗̰̊̾ẗ̶͙́̈́͑̀͜ͅh̶̢̺͉̖͌̔̓͝e̶̬͍̝̞͛r̵̗̩͛̐̂,̶̤͎͎̉̊̎ ̸̨̖͉̬̇͑̈̅h̸͇̏į̴͉̄̚s̷̨̝͈̽̓̅ ̴̟̩̃f̵̦͖̩͂̏ȉ̸̡̯̳̈́̈̾ś̶͙̺ṭ̵̜̯̭̓,̸̮̭̇̓ ̸͚̜̃̑ḿ̷̻͈̓y̸̡͌̊̓ ̵̞̈́̇c̷͍̘͌̃͜͠h̵͖̉͘e̸̮͙̊̎ş̵͚̚t̸̡̗́̈́͋̑͜,̸̜͋͠͝ ̷̧̣͎̙̓͌͝͝a̴̖̥̅n̶̡̯͆d̶̢̠͛̿ ̵̭̈́I̴͎͚̺̥͆̋̕ ̸̧̥͙̦̔w̷̭̐̈́å̵̢̙͔s̷̖̋̿ ̶̫̘̾͊l̴̨̧̙̐́a̸͎̹͕͕̔̓̾y̷̧͈͖͚̌̀̂̊i̴̠̝͗͌̕͘n̵͙̻͌̄g̸̛̥̯̹̫͝ ̷̣̔̋̀͠ọ̸̀̾̃̃n̵̰͐ ̷̼̄͂͗m̴̟͘y̵̩̻̺̪̎̽̐ ̴͔̹̀b̸̛͆ͅa̵̡̧̬̓c̴͇͝k̸̢̐̍̏́ ̸̼̠̳͕̑̃̏͝ä̷̫̣̂̓͝n̴̫̬̐ḓ̵̎̈͝ ̶̦͈̈́̆̓͜t̵̨͗̎̈h̶̭̗͔̣̋̑̆̕ę̷͈̗̰͑ ̷̛̪͎̞͒͌͝s̵̼̝̽͝͠ͅk̶̰̠̥̔͘y̸̝͐̆̓̈́ ̷͉͖̳̀̈w̸̛͇̝̭̺ȁ̶̳̥̰̐̉̄s̴͙̊̈ͅ ̶̟̐̿b̴̭̞͗̔̓l̴͉̰̓ų̴̒̓͘e̴͍̟̐̋,̷̡̀̎ ̷͈̈́̈́̉a̴͈̠̓n̴̽̾̊͜ͅd̴͙͍͇̲̾ ̴͇̭̩́̂͐m̸̛̭͉̈̒͂ỳ̴͙͔͉̾͂̽ ̴̻̙̊͝m̴̨̽̚o̵͍̠͆̓t̸̡̻͖̫̉̈́h̴̛̗̺̖̾ë̶̖r̷̥͗ ̵̟̱̞͖̎̿̒͝ḥ̷̂o̷̧̓̓ļ̵̻̜̊̇l̵̖̬̹͑ḛ̴͚̈̕r̵̪͈͈̭̄̈́̃́ȩ̴͇̥̽d̴̨̼͓̿̽͂ ̴̻͎̬̩̔͐́a̴̫͔͐̃̽t̶̩̏̏ ̷̦̭͋ȟ̴̺͚̤͖ḭ̸̝̺̐̆͗m̶̞̄̋͘͠ ̶͌ͅá̶͉̜̜̪̈́̆͂ń̵̘̪̮̉̃d̸͔̥̟͌͂͗͝ ̶̛̺̪̲̩́̑t̸͓̱͐̀͗͊h̴̠̮̄̐̽͝ę̶͔̏̈́̄͝ ̷̗̖̌̉͝ͅb̷̭̄̚u̷̮̎̇̃̀l̸͉̣̓l̵̦̺̟̔͗̾͜͝è̴̡͔̝̲̑͌ț̵̮̽ ̵͎̗̏̀ȟ̷̹̝͕̀́ȃ̷̪͒̋͜d̸̞̤͕̦̈́̑͠͝ ̸̻̤͆̈́̊͝n̶̼̆͌̑̈́ē̷̳͔̝͙͌́́v̷͍͙̻̘̈́ẽ̷̗̞̳̓͝͝ͅr̴̾̽͜͠ ̵̣̜̂̌͠ͅh̷̦̜̦͚̓i̴͓̠͖͐ţ̸̂̋̿̾ ̶͕̑̕̚ͅm̴̛̥̈́ế̸̟̠͔̳,̵̱͖̳̲̊ ̷̨͍͛a̶̗̞͝n̵̯͇̿̏̚d̸̙͎̭͆͊͠ ̶̬͍͐̇t̴̢̛̲̖̟h̴̙̿͗̎͜è̷͖̱̞́̇̀ ̵͉̆͘l̷̡̬̀̌̌̒e̷̢͋̈̃̓͜g̷̢̢͉͜͝ï̵̟͈͉̞̇̆̐o̴̺̜̒́̔͜n̸͉̏͌ṇ̷̀͝a̶̡̖̓̽͛̍i̸̬̮͂͋̕r̵̲̗̈ë̶̮́ ̵̨̣̓ẅ̷̲̹͓̗͗h̵̻͉̠̱͑̓o̶̹̱̺͉̕ ̶͖̝͚̎͆̂̓s̸̛̛̰͓͜h̵̤̐o̵̭̝̹̅̇͑͜͝t̴̠͊̋̾͐ ̴̠̰̞̟̇͒̾͠ḿ̸̟̤̗͈̊͗ȩ̸̟̏ ̸̻̀h̴͕͈̹̾͛͌̓a̵̻̬̝̰̅͛d̵̨̘̀ ̷̢̹͉͑̿͜n̷̯͔̏͊̌o̷͙̟͔̍t̸̢̮͖̋ ̶͈̞̀̒ͅy̸̠͈͋̿e̷̮̬͍͂͛̑t̵̝̓͐͜ͅ ̶̨̛͓̌̐͐p̵̳̏̎̌̕͜u̴̗̎́̉l̵̢̩̩͇̆̍l̴͚͗̀̔̅e̵̞̼̐̎́d̶̜̲̃͊̈́̚ ̴̨̡͍̀̀̚̚t̶̘͙̤͙̍͋̚͝h̷̢̯͋è̵̹̳͑͒ ̴̳͋t̷̰́r̸̛̭̭̪ĩ̵̯̭̄̄g̶̻̹̥̅͛̀͠g̴͍͓̻̑̿̈́ͅẽ̴̦̞͚̾̀r̴̥̖͈̭̂͆,̷͖͕̊͜͜ ̵̧̤̪̻́̕â̵̯͂n̶͖̊͝d̶͉̠̭̠͆͂ ̵̗̫̪̬͘͠s̸̫̫̱̫̚o̴̡̤̘͊͒̈́ ̸̙̯͋̋ͅÍ̸͕̃ ̶̬͂́͆͝k̵̬̻̊̀̋͝ï̵̪̫̖̜ḻ̶̡͐̈́̂̄l̴͍͎̘̙̊̐̅͠e̵͛ͅd̸͎̰̋̊̾ ̴͇͖̗̃̽͠ḩ̴̟̓̀͆̕ĩ̸͚͐̆ṃ̵̧͍͙̊.̴̮̰͗̓ ̵͈̿̄͐Ḯ̴͖͎̊ ̸͓͍̮̲̀͝͠ḏ̶̘̲̐͋̕r̷͍̔͜a̴̧̛n̵̘̾͗͝k̷̰̋͑͝ ̵̪͙͎̆ḑ̴̱͙̔̈ë̸̙̝́̿͝ë̴̻̓͝p̷͖͔̔̎̎ ̵̢̪̣́͆͠ȁ̴̭n̵̡̧̗͒̌d̸͉̠̔͘ ̴̺͔̠̟́ḵ̵̫̈́̀͛̕ḯ̸̪l̵̠͋̂͋ͅl̸̼̯̬̲͛e̸̯̯̿͜ͅd̶͚͚͕̺́ ̵͎̩̃h̶̪͚̏̚î̵̩͍͍̲̒͗m̵͈͘ͅ.̷͚̼̪̺͐̈́”̶͙̌̊͝

[edupunkn00b]

The Game is Afoot!

Photo by Ashni via Unsplash. Edited by edupunkn00b.

Rated: G - WC: 1036 - CW: None

Three weeks after Christmas and Logan is still working on his puzzle from Virgil. Is it any wonder why?

"The game is afoot!"

“But I thought you said Virgil’s game is a puzzle, Logie!” 

“Patton! It’s a—” The Moral Side’s head tilted far to the left, brow knit together in deep confusion. Breathing slowly through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he nearly missed the quiver at the corner of Patton's mouth. He groaned. “Okay, okay, you got me.”

“So can I play, too?” Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, Watson scarf already tied in a neat knot around his neck.

Logan groaned again. “No, not this time, Patton.”

“Yeah, Popstar, I get to play Watson and Moriarty for this one.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Remus purred from his spot behind the television. “You can help me air fry fish fingers.”

“Um, do fish have fingers?” Patton asked, his perplexed expression genuine this time.

“Doctor Who reference?” Logan asked, eyes darting up from the frayed newspaper in his hands. Christmas had been over two weeks ago and he was still working through the mystery puzzle Virgil had created for him.

The Anxious Side chuckled. “Focus, L…”

“I dunno!” the Creative Side laughed, either not hearing the other two Sides or simply ignoring them, and grabbed Patton’s hand, his new—well, formerly new air fryer tucked under one arm. The thing reeked of a mixture of pickle brine and peat, and its once pristine white plastic casing was charred and cracked on the sides. A neon green mold had begun to grow around the control panel, nearly obscuring a flashing ERR-80085. “Let’s go find out!”

Before Patton could say another word, the two had sunk out to the Imagination.

“And then there were four—err, well,” Logan cleared his throat and returned his attention to the newspaper. 

“Yes,” Janus purred from the corner of the couch. “Don’t mind us, we don’t want to play your silly little scavenger hunt—”

“It’s not just a scavenger hunt, Jay! Ugh, why do you—” Virgil cut himself off and adjusted the ties on his hoodie. “Nope, not gonna engage. Not worth it.”

“That’s right, Tall, Dark, and Stormy,” Roman agreed from the staircase. He leapt over the side of the banister with a flourish, the new gold—was that real gold?—trim clinking gently with the impact. “I shall keep the living room safe from any of Janus’ dastardly plans.”

“Oh, no, you caught me drinking wine,” Janus slurred.

“Off you go,” Roman said to Virgil and Logan, pretending not to hear Janus’ mocking. Virgil and Logan exchanged a look. Selective hearing seemed to be a tool in each of the brother’s kits. “I’ve got everything under control here.”

“If you’re sure, Princey,” Virgil began, gaze trained on Janus’ oh-so-innocent expression.

“Wait, Virgil!” Logan grabbed his arm in a remarkable imitation of Remus dragging Patton to the Imagination. He held the newspaper to Virgil’s face. “Does this symbol represent the meter outside?”

Worry shifted into a wicked grin. “Only one way to find out, Detective Holmes.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Logan grinned and ran toward the door, Virgil at his heels.

They flung open the door together and stood on the sunny first step, just as Thomas’ neighbor walked by, well, more like was led by her noisy dog.

“Oh! Good morning, uh, Thomas?” she called as she jogged past, barely managing to slow the pace of her five pound monster of a chihuahua, Craig the Dragon. 

“Good morning, Betty!” Logan called quickly, stepping to obscure her view of Virgil’s face. “You’ve met my brother Jake, have you not?”

“Yes, yes, of course…” she agreed, voice fading. She was already three doors down. “Nice to see you, Jake!” Betty called one more time before Craig spotted a lizard in another yard and dashed after it.

“That was close,” Virgil muttered, peering around Logan’s shoulder to watch Betty stamp her foot and shout, Leave it!

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, scanning the newspaper. “Is this the only outdoor clue?”

Virgil nodded, eyes fixed on the race between the lizard and the chihuaha. “Yeah.” The chihuaha won.

“Well, then…” Logan adjusted his deerstalker. “Shall we?”

Another neighbor ran out to help pry the lizard from Craig’s maw and Logan and Virgil used the distraction to swing around to the other side of Thomas’ house. Logan began counting the meters. The final meter in the row showed was lettered LUC.

“Is that meant to be ‘look?’” Logan asked, eyebrow raised.

“What do you want? I was outside and in a rush,” Virgil shrugged, keeping watch around the corner. “L, hurry up, she’s on her way back and I look nothing like Jake.”

Nodding brusquely, Logan examined every inch of the glass casing. Finally, he found a series of tiny scratches. Running his fingers over the markings, he grinned. “Morse code? T-h-e—space—n-e-x-t—space—g-l—Wait—” He rubbed his fingertip over another section. “Ha! You thought you could catch me with pre-1874 Morse code!”

He fell quiet, studying the scratches. “C’mon, L, we gotta get back inside now.”

“Ha!” Logan crowed, triumphantly. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and dashed around the back of the building. “Let’s go through the patio. ‘The next clue is in the kitchen.’”

Virgil was the first to smell smoke. The pair exchanged one last quick look and raced to the door.

Before either could reach it, the patio door slid open with a crash and Patton stumbled out. “They’re moving! The chicken fingers are moving!” he screeched, smacking at his own shoulders. Embers sparked in his hair and on the sleeves of his catigan. A wall of acrid smoke soon followed and they all stepped back.

“Come back, Daddy!” Remus called, his voice and the tromp of boots growing louder. The Creative Side emerged from he smoke, arms full of wriggling—and burnt—breaded somethings. “I think I got ‘em all this time!”

“Remus!” Roman shouted from inside. “They got in my crown!”

“Oops. Almost all of ‘em,” Remus winked and ran back inside. "Keep your pants on, Ro Bro! Believe me—you don't want those little stinkers getting in there!"

The trio shared a moment of confused silence before Janus sauntered out, an uncorked bottle in one hand and a tray of four glasses in the other. “Wine, anyone?”

[thedrarrylibrarian]

hey, do you know of any drarry podfics?

Hello! Your holds have arrived!

Yes, I do have some podfics for you! I love listening to a podfic while I'm puttering around the house, or even occasionally on a long trip! It's so calming to have something to keep my mind engaged while I'm doing a repetitive task.

I hope these podfics are exactly what you've been looking for! And don't forget to check out my previous Podfics list!

Podfics 2

Your Presence Against My Skin written by @bafflinghaze, read by JocundaSykes (4 min, rated G)

Nightmares are a part of Harry's life; but so is Draco.

Too Many Potters written by @phdmama, read by @reveriepi (13 min, rated T)

Draco blinks, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.

“Weasley,” he says, not taking his eyes off the sight in the cell, “why are there eleven Potters in Holding B?”

“Twelve, actually,” Weasely replies from his desk. “I think one’s tucked away back in the corner.”

Harry Potter and the Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant written by megyal, read by @HappyHanabi (22 min, rated T)

Harry Potter's new assistant is snarkily organized.

5 times Draco Malfoy lied because of Harry Potter (and 1 time he was uncharacteristically honest) written by Ingi, read by ETL_Echo (26 min, rated G)

Although Draco Malfoy had no qualms against lying, he'd been taught from a young age how to benefit the most from his lies.

His Father had repeated the same over and over again, as Draco grew up: You shall never do anything that provides you no benefit. And Draco had never broken that sacred rule of his family, mostly because he'd never felt the compulsion to do so.

Of course Harry bloody Potter would have to come tumbling and ruin it.

Five Little Things written by @bixgirl1, read by ETL_Echo (38 min, rated T)

Harry was supposed to be good at this.

Still written by alexmeg, read by @reveriepi (47 min, not rated)

Dating Draco Malfoy, Harry thinks, will mean being at arms length outside of sex. No unnecessary physical contact or displays of affection. He wants him anyway, inexplicably. Perhaps that is exactly the kind of person he should be with, someone who will never need Harry to kiss him first, because Harry doesn't think he'll ever be that person.

The Full Monty written by @magpiefngrl, read by @sweatersinthesummer (1 hour, rated E)

Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.

Pinky Promises Are Powerful Magic written by megyal, read by @reveriepi (1 hour, 11 min, rated T)

Ickle Harry wants to stay with his newest hero.

the way you make me glow written by @softlystarstruck, read by @roseszain (1 hour, 14 min, rated M)

In a cottage next to the sea, love blossoms. Or perhaps it’s been there all along.

Potter written by Quine, read by @peony-podfics (1 hour, 17 min, rated T)

"Potter," Blaise muttered, a strewn over salt shaker in front of him.

"Where?" Draco asked, searching in vain for the raven-haired saviour.

Theo was grinning as he watched their exchange.

"Well," Blaise began, "As you're so fond of blaming all your problems on Potter, I thought I'd give it a try as well."

Crimson Neon written by @xanthippe74 and read by Spades (1 hour, 42 min, rated M)

Winter, 1999. Harry thought going to New York would help him get his head on straight, but all he has to show for it are sore feet and a fridge full of takeaway containers. And now he’s homesick on top of everything else. It doesn’t help that his mysterious neighbour in 2C keeps cooking dishes that remind Harry of home and all the people he lost or left behind.

Human written by @ghaniblue, read by @reveriepi (3 hours, rated E)

Harry isn't dealing well with being bitten and turned into a werewolf. Draco isn't dealing well with Harry packing up and leaving like a thief in the night. Things come to a head in a forest cabin in the German Ore Mountains.

Never Grow a Wishbone written by @shanastoryteller, read by SeaSage (10 hours, 41 min, rated T)

Draco returns to Hogwarts.

He has a duty to his blood and his name and his house, and he will fulfill it.

Always Already written and read by @aibidil (19 hours, 45 min, rated E)

Harry and Draco are perfectly fine, separately minding their business in 2004, when the Unspeakables conscript them into service... in the First War against Voldemort.

Come for mutual pining and forced proximity in a 1980 hotel room, stay for young Sirius and philosophising about immortality and wormholes. And an eighties cowboy soap opera.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

[zonatcannibalism]

FIRE AND LIGHT THEMES IN CINDERELLAS CASTLE

Ella being ella ASHmore- like obviously the cinder part. But likeee.

FIRE AND STARLIGHT

Illumination! Like, you know, LIGTH.

ellas mother being burnt alive.

the narration in the begginig of the lands that are stream: "there is no family tree that does not burn"

The demos:

Nothing in castle on a hill, unless you count the multiple references to shadows

cursed crazy: "you know that youve been burnt or shady" "its the remains of the house of ash"

step on your grave: "id thank my stars"

nothing in facade :\

last for ever: "a endless ligth, a burning ember" "the stars are all in a line"

LITERALLY THE ENTIRETY OF NEON

nothing in ever after

THE ENTIRETY OF TRAPPINGS OF STARLIGTH AND ASH TO ASH. but some lines in ash to ash should be mentioned specifically (sung by the fairy queen of sweet dreams, so have a high chance of being lore relevant):

"the flames of ruination take their hold" "when the ligth goes out only fire is just" "i grand thee starligth, the last bit of ligth in eternal dark, where all things return and all things will start. the dying ember of the flame of life, i shall craft this starligth" "i shall wrap thee in these cinders" "

also i feel like there are more stuff im missing bc im not a very thorough person.

listen. ok. i know the ash thing is probably bc of the cinder part of cinderella, the fire bc ellas mother was burned and the ligth\ stars thing could just be that the fairy GODmothers magic is ligth themed. but i really think theres something more going on. like. arson will be commited.

[boysplanetrecaps]

Build Up Episode 1: Don’t Go

Hello and welcome back to my Build Up recaps! In the last one, we covered the first two “Pre-4” Mission performances -- If You and Every Moment of You. In this post, we’ll cover Don’t Go (Kajima) and wrap up episode 1, finally!

I found some decent links to watch the episodes. 

Episode 1

Episode 2

I’m deliberately hiding them behind a read more since I’m not sure if MNET knows about them and/or if they’ll be there forever, so watch while you can! 

Just a little note before we dive in -- I noticed after I had posted the previous one that Seunghun from CIX has braces! 

I’m just really surprised, because I would have guessed that his agency would have made him take them off for this show, or something. I’m glad he has them if he needs them, for sure -- it’s just a surprise. Knowing this helps explain why he smiles so strangely sometimes. 

Anyway! 

Don’t Go

The next performance is Kajima, Kajima (Don’t Go, Don’t Go). 

A little about the song before we get to the performance. It was originally performed by a singing duo called Brown Eyes, which, per Wikipedia, is “considered one of South Korea's most important R&B groups, given their immense commercial success.” The duo consists of Yoon Gun and Naul, both of whom have gone on to do other stuff. Naul recently did a duo with Sung Sikyung, the guy who first sang Every Moment of You (the previous song on this show). The song Kajima, Kajima won the Best Ballad/R&B Performance award at the 2008 MNET Asian Music awards.

Kajima, Kajima is the miserable wail of a deserted lover begging their partner to come back. Some of the lyrics, per a blog I found: “Stupidly / I still live for you / Where are you? / I need you so much / Oh baby, my only one / Please stop and come back now / Just tell me this is a joke / Simply return to me.” 

Mini Korean lesson: You might recognize the -jima ending from the GOT7 song Stop It, when they say “hajima, hajima” over and over (“hajima” means “don’t). And you heard the “ka” verb at the beginning of the Oneus song Lit, when they say, “Kaja!” (let’s go!) So ka is for go, and -jima is a negative command, so kajima is “don’t go”. Woot! 

Kajima, Kajima is known for a really high note -- a high G#5. I would have to warm up to hit that note at all -- and I’m not confident I could hit it with much resonance. And I’m a mezzo-soprano -- it would be insane to hit that note as a tenor!  Like the other ballads on this show, it’s known for being particularly emotional, but in this case it’s also tricky to sing. That’s why the other guys call it a “hell song.”

So, who would want to take this song on? Why, mister high notes himself, Park Jeup.

Park Jeup was second to choose and chose this song right off, but it took a while for anyone else to join him, to the point that he started to get nervous. But after a bit, 16th ranked Detective Donghun from A.C.E. chose it while there were still spots open in every song. It turns out that Donghun really wanted to sing Breath but chose this song so that he could work with Jeup. Aww! They were on I Can See Your Voice 4 together, so Donghun may have admired Jeup’s voice for a while. They’re “chingus” in the sense that they were born in the same year, 1993, and in Korean culture having someone around who is the same age as you is sort of meaningful, almost like when you meet someone from your home country when you’re abroad.

“Will I be able to sing this song well?” … “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Also, Donghun proved he’s not scared to tackle tough material when he did an EXO song for his teaser performance. 

By the time Neon chose the song, Ditto, Tomboy, and Shall I Love You Again  were closed, but he seems to choose this song without hesitation. By the time 36th place Hyukjin choose it, the only songs open were this song, Every Moment Of You (the one we just saw), or Breath, but I think he might have really wanted this song anyway. Based on his teaser performance -- that wild metal performance -- he also likes to tackle tough material. (Hyukjin was also born in 1993, making him also a chingu to Jeup and Donghun. Neon is a little younger, about 28 years old.)

In my original assessment of Jeup, I noted that I loved his technique but wasn’t sure about his timbre, but that I’d give him a chance to grow on me. For Hyukjin, I recognized the ambition of what he tried to do and again decided to reserve judgment. About Neon, I said that he has nice, clean vocals, with good technique and a lot of power. And I said that Donghun has an appealing warm vocal color with good breath support, but strains his throat a bit. If I had to pick a favorite voice of the four based on their teaser song, I’d choose Neon, but Donghun wouldn’t be too far behind. This is a group of powerful vocalists, regardless of the category they chose, and I am hopeful that it will turn out well.

The group seems pretty happy to all be working together, and they view each other as talented colleagues, which might make it tricky to divvy up the parts. They’re all really good, so who should sing what? 

Look at how shiny Hyukjin’s suit is! Those gray lines are just lights reflecting off of creases in the material. 

They begin singing the song a bit to test out the waters, and Jeup’s strong clear tenor fills the studio. Over in team Beautiful, Lim Sang Hyun wonders out loud, “Is that the original song playing?” 

LTR: Lim Sanghyun, Taewoo, Jeong Yunseo, Kim Minseo 

They take turns singing a bit and they all sound fantastic. They’re not really sure what to do, because Jeup doesn’t want to take the verse, which he thinks is too low for him, and so he wants to do the chorus, which is a long part. Donghun also wants to do that long part, but decides that it suits Jeup more and decides to do a different part that is more emotional, even if it’s shorter. The rest of the part distribution goes well.

Then we go into a mini montage of Donghun’s struggles in his life. He’s always wanted to sing, and went on various shows to make that happen, but though he made top 10 of Superstar K5 that wasn’t quite good enough, and then he made the debut lineup of that shitshow that was MIXNINE but of course that group didn’t debut. He thought that debuting (in A.C.E.) would make it ok, but it didn’t. I beg to differ, sir! People really like A.C.E.! But I guess it’s not like A.C.E. have hit the highs of BTS and Seventeen, so I understand what he’s saying. “Actually the survival program itself was a bit of a trauma for me,” he adds, and I feel that. These shows seriously should gift each contestant at least 20 hours of a post-show mental health counseling. 

The guys are meeting in some sort of staff room, probably at one of their agencies. Looks like three of them were drinking something cool, but smart Jeup is drinking something hot. Cold stuff is bad for your throat, my friends. Jeup knows where it’s at.

Left to right: Hyukjin, Neon, Donghun, and Jeup

Also, I think Jeup looks so much nicer with his hair this way, sort of parted and brushed back, instead of down over his face like bangs.

Anyway, at this meeting, Donghun is saying, “I want us to decide what kind of thoughts we’ll have when we sing this song, so that we have a unified approach. The song title is Don’t Go, Don’t Go. We can make it about our dreams. I haven’t seen my dream lately, and I hope it comes to me now.”    

The editors play some sad piano music as Donghun’s words sink in. All four of them know what he’s talking about. Honestly, Hyukjin and Jeup know what he means even more than he does -- A.C.E. is about 100x more popular than Jeup’s group was, and about 100,000x more popular than Hyukjin’s current group. 

Hyukjin, partly quoting from the song, says, “Living like a fool is heartbreaking. But we keep living like fools.” Then he smiles incredulously, as if he almost can’t believe that he’s made that connection. Donghun has really hit a nerve here. 

Donghun agrees with Hyukjin, and says, “yes, we keep singing like fools.” He interviews that he wants to reclaim his dream and get it back. 

As the lights go down on performance day, Donghun voiceovers, I want to sing my heart out with no regrets. 

Here’s the full version, no reactions. 

My thoughts:

Damn, that was good. 

Let me nitpick for just a few seconds. Yes, Hyukjin’s voice is a little thin and he strained on the highest notes, and Jeup’s voice is a bit too high in timbre to be my favorite, and Donghun’s voice still sounds strained, like he must be hurting his throat. 

But it all ended up working. I don’t know, man, this was good. For one thing, all the voices are really good individually, and then they also are a great mix. You’ve got the slightly tart Jeup, like a strawberry. You’ve got the bright voice of Hyukjin, like a raspberry. You’ve got the slightly challenging voice of Donghun, a pineapple. And then the smoothest voice, Neon, as a slice of banana mixed in to smooth the whole thing down. It fucking works. I don’t even like this song and I liked listening to their performance. I mean, this is going on my playlist, you guys. This is good shit.

I particularly like Neon’s voice, even though I recognize that it’s not quite as powerful or well trained as the others’. To me, he sounds just a little like Do Kyungsoo and that’s just about the highest compliment I can give to a singer. 

Also, damn, I don’t normally talk about this kind of thing exactly but Park Jeup, in addition to being a real sweetheart, is a really good looking dude. I’m not made of steel, you guys. 

Those cheekbones! Those shoulders! Am I alone on this…? 

The MNET edit, like all the edits so far, is pretty restrained. I guess they told their editors to not do a whole bag of coke before they sat down to their editing control panel. There are a few instant replays of high notes, but they’re blended in to the background mix so it’s not so jarring to listen to. 

All the reaction shots are positive. We see the judges just loving all of them. Vocal Coach Guy even asks, “wait, is this live or playback?” The love seems slightly more focused on Jeup and Donghun, less so on Neon and even less so on Hyukjin, but all four of them get some love, which is nice. 

Solar likes it. I think. I guess? Not sure.

She’s excited Jeup hit that one high note! She tries to hit it too and kind of can’t! 

Backstage, the guys all kind of fall over hearing Jeup’s high note. They almost can’t believe it. Hwanhee kind of hits his own knees with his hands involuntarily. 

When they’re done, the judges give them a standing ovation!

They lavish praise on all of them, again focusing a little less on Hyukjin and a little more on Donghun. They think that the four of them could just debut as a group the way they are. Basically, the judges agree with me, so that’s good.

Vocal Coach Guy points out that Jeup doesn’t just hit high notes -- he sings with emotions. Then he adds that Jeup has nice shoulders, so that was funny. Wendy asks about Jeup’s range, and he says that he can sing any male song, that they’re all in his range. 

Dahee says that it was nothing but compliments, so the question is, who could win? Backstage, the boys aren’t sure either. No one floats Hyukjin’s name as top tier, but the other three get named, and the boys think that all four were excellent. 

So, who wins…?

Baekho, Solar, and Vocal Coach Guy all vote for Donghun from A.C.E. 

Eunkwang and Jaehwan vote for Neon, and Wendy votes for Park Jeup. 

So, Donghun wins! Vocal Coach Guy lavishes a bit more praise on him, saying that it was an easy choice to pick Donghun because his voice is so good. 

And then, oh guys, it’s so sad. Donghun starts to cry, saying it’s the first time he’s been recognized like this. 

The judges are a little uncomfortable because the “win” is kind of a minor one, and they’re surprised at his reaction. It’s like this is what Donghun has been waiting his whole life to hear. 

Donghun adds that he didn’t expect to win, that he was focusing on working well with his team.

Backstage, the guys are like, oof, wouldn’t want to have to follow that! 

So who is up next? Team Breath. The editors do that thing like they’re trying to trick you into thinking that the performance is starting, but the episode is almost over and this obviously just a teaser. Thanks, editors. Theditors. 

Since we’re at the end of the episode, I’ll end the post here. Woo! Finally to the end of the first episode! I'm only two full episodes behind... great! Anyway, I'll see you in the next one, and thanks as always for reading. <3

[reallygroovyninja]

The Coin Flip

Perched at a high-top table in the bustling bar, Clarke and Raven were bathed in the soft glow of the neon bar sign. As the noise of the crowd hummed around them, Raven produced a quarter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Heads, you're on tequila. Tails, its beer," Raven proposed, flipping the coin into the air with a swift flick of her thumb. Clarke watched the coin spin, her mind filled with the distinct taste of beer that she was hoping for. 

The quarter spun in the air, catching the dim light as it rotated. With a clatter, it landed on the table - heads up. Raven's eyes lit up with delight, while Clarke let out a theatrical groan. 

"Looks like it's tequila for you, Clarke," Raven announced, her grin wide as she signaled the server for the drink order. Clarke summoned a resigned smile, bracing herself for the fiery kick of tequila that was to come. 

As the quarter's result settled in, a server navigated her way through the crowded bar to their table. She wore an amiable smile, pen poised over a small notepad. "What can I get you ladies tonight?" she asked. 

Raven, still grinning at her victorious coin flip, replied, "I'll have a beer, please. And my friend here," she gestured to Clarke with a playful smirk, "needs a bottle of tequila and a shot glass." Clarke rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock despair as the server scribbled down their order. 

Folding her arms, Clarke looked at Raven and asked, "Why do we torture each other with this game?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice, despite her impending tequila fate. 

Raven, still grinning, shrugged and replied, "Because it's fun, Clarke. And besides, it always makes for a memorable night. You never know, you might start liking tequila after this." 

Clarke shook her head, her eyes narrowing slightly at Raven. "You know why I hate tequila, Raven," she said. "It's not about the taste. It just leads to...bad choices." 

She remembered past nights, blurred memories and laughter, moments of spontaneity that bordered on recklessness. All thanks to the liquid courage that was tequila. 

Raven chuckled, her eyes softening as she looked at the blonde. "Clarke," she said, "It's not my fault you decided to sleep with Finn, which led to a two-year relationship. That was all you, my friend." She reminded Clarke, not with malice but with gentle teasing. 

Clarke playfully jabbed a finger in Raven's direction, her face breaking into a grin despite the mention of Finn. "Hey, you know the rules, Raven. That ex-boyfriend shall remain nameless," she said, wagging her finger for emphasis. 

Raven, recognizing the playful warning, raised her hands in mock surrender, her laughter mingling with the bar's lively atmosphere. "Alright, alright, no more mentions of the ex-boyfriend-who-must-not-be-named," she promised, her eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Just as their laughter subsided, the server reappeared, deftly placing a frosted beer in front of Raven and a bottle of tequila with a shot glass on the table. The sight of the tequila made Clarke groan, but Raven couldn't contain her laughter. 

"Oh, Clarke," Raven exhaled, still chuckling as she popped open her beer, "tonight is going to be fun." The twinkle in her eyes promised mischief, and despite the impending tequila shots, Clarke couldn't help but return her friend's infectious grin. 

Raven, still chuckling, grabbed the tequila bottle and expertly poured a shot. She slid it towards Clarke, her daring smile never leaving her face. "Drink up," she commanded, her voice filled with anticipation. 

With a roll of her eyes, Clarke sprinkled some salt onto the back of her hand and licked it. She picked up the shot glass, tossed back the tequila, and then briskly sucked on a lime wedge. The sharp tang of the lime mingled with the fiery tequila, drawing a grimace and a laugh from Clarke. "Here's to bad decisions," she toasted, lifting the empty shot glass. 

"That's the spirit, Clarke!" Raven cheered, raising her beer in salute. But she was not done yet. Pulling out the quarter again, she said, "Heads, you take a second shot now, or tails we wait a bit." 

 Clarke eyed her friend suspiciously. She could tell Raven was intent on getting her drunk, but she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. Taking a playful sigh, she motioned for Raven to flip the coin. "Alright, Raven. Let's see where this night leads us." 

With a swift flick of her thumb, Raven sent the coin spinning into the air. It landed on the table with a clatter - heads again. Clarke let out a groan, causing Raven to burst into laughter. 

"Round two, Clarke!" Raven announced, her eyes shining with amusement. Clarke shook her head, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

She picked up the tequila bottle, poured herself another shot, and steeled herself for the burn. Licking the salt off her hand, she knocked back the shot, the tequila searing a fiery path down her throat. 

To chase the burn, she quickly bit into a fresh lime wedge, the citrus tang bringing relief and drawing a wince from her. Despite the tequila's intensity, she found herself laughing along with Raven, the taste of salt and lime lingering on her lips. Clarke was in this game for the long haul. 

As the taste of tequila, salt, and lime subsided, Clarke and Raven settled into a comfortable silence, their eyes scanning the lively bar scene. From their high-top perch, they watched the myriad of people, their conversations and laughter adding layers to the symphony of the night. 

Clarke could feel the warmth of the tequila spreading through her, the edges of her world becoming pleasantly fuzzy. She knew Raven was letting the tequila do its work, her friend's eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. But for now, they simply enjoyed the buzz of the bar, their bond unwavering amidst the clink of glasses, the hum of conversation, and the promise of a memorable night. 

Clarke's gaze was drawn to the dance floor, where a group of women moved with abandon, their laughter ringing out over the pulsating beat of the music. She watched their fluid movements, their carefree energy, and found herself wondering why Raven had chosen this particular bar tonight. 

But even as the question formed, she could feel the tequila weaving its warm, fuzzy spell over her mind. Her thoughts began to blur and drift, like smoke dispersing into the air, making it hard to focus on anything for too long. Still, she couldn't shake off the sense that Raven had something up her sleeve. She glanced at her friend, her eyes glinting with curiosity and tequila-induced mirth. 

Leaning slightly closer over the table, Raven glanced at Clarke. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice a playful lilt over the bar's ambient noise. 

Clarke turned to her, a slow grin spreading across her face. "I'm feeling..." she began, her words trailing off as she searched for the right description. "Fuzzy," she finally settled on, her laughter bubbling up. "Definitely fuzzy, Raven." 

Raven's smile widened at Clarke's response. "Alright then, fuzzy Clarke," she declared, producing the quarter once again. "Heads, we sit here for a bit longer. Tails, we hit the dance floor." 

With a flick of her wrist, the coin was tossed into the air, spinning and glinting before landing firmly on the table - tails. Raven's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Looks like we're dancing!" she exclaimed, her hand reaching out to help Clarke down from her seat. 

Despite the tequila making her world slightly sway, Clarke found herself laughing as she allowed Raven to pull her towards the dance floor, the pulsating rhythm of the music already seeping into her bones. The night was still young, and she was ready for whatever it had in store.