#not afraid to say the spike question is make or break for me

[revelboo]

revel, i Need to knock/wife up bluestreak. give me an(other) excuse to dote on him gshdHJDGSKMGDS GODDD PROWL AND SKYWARP HAVE ME CACKLING

I’m dying at that sheer amount of these asks you guys are sending in 🤣 Bluestreak would probably be okay with it, just really surprised and confused. Bonus if it’s his first time period

🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Uno Reverse-Sparked

Bluestreak x Reader

• “Are you sure? I mean, I’d understand if you don’t want to. It’s okay. Really. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or-,” he says, aware that he’s babbling even as you cup his face in your hands and silence him with a kiss. Door wings flicking as you tug at him, laying back and pulling him down with you. And his servos tremble, ghosting over you, not sure where he can touch, what’s allowed.

• Grabbing his wrist, you guide his hand to your hip, feel his servos tracing so lightly over you in barely there touches. And you wonder if he’s ever done this before, doubting it as his optics slide down your body and his fans kick in, venting loudly. “You’re doing great,” you whisper and his helm, his chevron brushes against your head. Your own nerves and butterflies gone in the face of his uncertainty, because you do want this. Want to bond with him. Claim this sweet bot as yours. “Show me.”

• So afraid he’s going to mess this up somehow, he feels your warm hand slide down his chassis, fingertips brushing his plating and his hips rock into your touch. Staring into those eyes he loves as he free his spike and you touch him, stroking as he shudders over you. Mouth brushing your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach as you slide a thumb over the head of his spike and his hips buck.

• Smiling as he groans, the sound tapering off to a whine, he bucks against your hand, shifting over you. And he’s babbling again, but in his own language. Apparently unable to focus enough to remember you can’t understand him, but you guide him to you, hear him whine, mouth brushing yours, kissing you hungrily. Arching at the slight burn when he stretches you, you hold onto him, fingers brushing his door wings and he gets even louder. Moving against you in frantic, hard drives of his hips before finding a rhythm.

• Feel so good wrapped around his spike, just like he knew you would. Groaning, his hips pump, needing to claim you, bond you as his. Moving against you, and he’s too on edge, too wound up with those sounds you’re making and the wet heat of your body taking his spike. Until he’s shuddering against you, overloading so hard he’s shaking and he growls against your skin, spike pulsing inside you as he shifts his plating. Need you, to feel all of you.

• Arching on a cry as his spark snares you, he’s everywhere, engulfing you in his warmth and light. His memories and thoughts a wave crashing over you as he clings desperately to you. Feel the question there, almost a coaxing, uncertain pull and you open up to him. Accepting all of him as yours, trembling as you realize he’s seeing all of you, too, good and bad. That you can’t hide anything from him and he accepts it all. And there’s another question you don’t understand there but don’t fight, a coaxing and then a pull that leaves you breathless and shaking. A feeling that you just lost something you had no idea you could lose, a piece of you gone and it’s right there, different now as he asks again without words, but you break away, frightened.

• Shuddering as you retreat, his head lifts and he breaks the connection, righting his plating. Instantly missing the warmth of you tangled in him, the way you feel even more like home now. Door wings quivering he reaches up to press his servos against his chassis. Feeling that delicate new spark you’d created with him. That you’d given him to safe keep. “You sparked me?” And you just blink up at him, confused. Feels that same confusion, hadn’t realized he could spark you, hadn’t known not to. Curling his arms around you, he hugs you to him, feeling your heart beating against him, your warmth. ‘I did what now?’ You ask.

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[em-ontv]

Hi I’m the anon who sent you the idea for “sing a song for me” and it’s literally so perfect I can’t wait to read the second part. I might cry a little I’m not even lying this was a dream I had and I was like huh wow that would make a cool fanfic but I can’t write at all. And you made it even better than I could’ve imagined thank you so much 🥰

Sing a song for me. (2/2)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Warnings: injuries/scars, comfort/intimacy (non-explicit), language, no use of y/n, Butcher being Butcher, probably ooc Ben (I made him a bit too gentle, we don't need more trauma), not proof-read

A/n: hello, anon! I'm so glad you liked part 1, this is the long due part 2 I promised. Hope you like it <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :'(

Read part 1 here

Word count: 2.4k

The inside of the van was cramped and smelled faintly of oil and sweat. The seats were worn, the leather cracked from use. The night outside was dense, you saw just enough stars to remind yourself that while you were locked away, there was a whole other world out there beyond your cell.

You sat beside Ben, who kept casting glances your way as if he was afraid you'd shatter. But you couldn't blame him... you must have looked terrible. The bruises, the exhaustion, the haunted look in your eyes. You didn't even bother to look at yourself in the reflection of the window on your way into the van. It felt like too much—like you couldn't handle what Vought had done to you. Not yet.

The ride was mostly silent until Butcher finally spoke.

"Alright, love, here's the deal." he said, breaking the silence. His eyes looked over you, his expression calculating. "We need to know now. Are you in, or do we drop you somewhere nice and safe to rot? We're taking down Homelander. It's not a bloody game."

Hughie shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. You stared back at Butcher, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to form words, but your head was spinning.

You knew what he was asking, but it felt too much to make that decision right now. You just wanted to rest—a bed, a moment to breathe without fear clawing at your throat.

"Alright, back the fuck off." Ben's voice snapped, breaking through the haze of your thoughts. The tension in the van spiked, and for a second, it looked like he was ready to lunge across the seat at Butcher and knock all of his teeth out. "Can't you see she's been through enough? She doesn't need your bullshit right now."

Butcher's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met Ben's glare. "We don't have time for second-guessing, mate. It's a very simple question."

Butcher turned his gaze back to you. "You can help us take down Homelander, the bastard who’s got half the world wrapped around his fuckin' finger, or we can take you back home. But no guarantees, yeah? Vought knows about you. They’ll come for you. Eventually."

You swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over your throat, your mind spinning. Home? That word didn't even feel real. Could that place—that cell—even be worthy of being called something like home?

But then again, if you didn't help, could you ever be safe again? For once in a very long time, the choice was yours, but both paths seemed like a death end.

"She needs time." Ben said, his jaw tensing, quietly observing you as if he knew what you were thinking. The hand that he rested on your back made you flinch slightly, causing him to retract it, his fingers curling into a fist.

Your gaze faltered, your eyes dropping to the ground before you managed to look back at Butcher.

A sharp huff escaped Butcher, his patience worn out. “Time's not a luxury we've got. This ain't a charity." He turned toward you, his tone biting. "Again, you can go back to your cozy little cell, I suppose. Vought’ll just find a new use for you.”

"For fuck's sake, she just got out of a shithole." Ben snapped, his voice simmering with anger. "Give her some fuckin' time."

For a moment, Butcher looked like he might argue with some witty comeback, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the road. "Fine. But time's ticking."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You leaned back in your seat, your eyelids heavy, letting your eyes close for just a moment, the noise faded into the background as you let exhaustion win over.

––––

When you reached the destination, Ben helped you out of the van, his movements cautious, his hand warm and solid on your lower back as he guided you inside. The "safe house" was as secure as it was miserable, but right now, that didn't matter. It was shelter, and it was enough.

The others dispersed, Butcher grumbling quietly under his breath as he stalked off to another room, Frenchie and Kimiko greeted you with a wave before leaving too.

Ben, though, lingered by your side, his hand hovering near yours, gently brushing against it for a second, but he didn't dare to reach for you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough but oddly gentle, his gaze never leaving your face. It wasn't something you expected to hear from him—after seeing his quite violent display in the lab, but here he was, looking at you with more concern than anyone else ever had.

You nodded, a small smile curling on your lips, swallowing thickly. "I'm... yeah. Just... tired," you were almost embarrassed by how weak you sounded, but he didn't judge, a faint understanding in his expression.

Hours passed in a tired blur. You had settled into a room, a worn-out bed, but it was better than nothing. Everyone retreated to their own corners of the place for what little rest they could find. You sank into the mattress, your eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

––––

It was sometime past midnight when Ben jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, running a shaky hand over his face. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight outside filtering through the window. He sat up, his heart pounding, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

Images flashed through his mind—memories of Vought, of his own time in their hands, of the time when he was betrayed, taken away, being tested on, and then frozen for decades. His breathing was ragged, the familiar surge of anger clawing its way to the surface, but something else broke through.

His thoughts drifted to you.

Without really thinking, he got up, slipping out of his room and down the hallway, to the room where you slept. His steps were slow, cautious, not wanting to disturb you.

He hesitated at the doorway to your room, his breath catching when he saw you lying there, on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

In the dim light, your features were softened, the lines of worry and pain absent. You looked peaceful, your breathing slow and steady, and it eased something in him, his shoulders sagging as the tension slipped away.

Ben took a step into the room, but the floor creaked under his weight, and your eyes snapped open, sitting up on the bed, startled.

"...m'sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but hoarse, like something was bothering him. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s okay," you murmured, your breathing becoming steady. Your eyes flickered over his face, the lingering pain in his expression catching you off-guard.

You knew that something was wrong, you'd seen that look before, in patients who had been through a lot, in people who had lost themselves along the way.

He hesitated, glancing away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He looked like he might turn and go back to his own room—but his uneven breathing made him pause. The sight of you was comforting, and that kind look in your eyes made him move closer instead of backing away.

He took a few careful steps closer, almost unsure. "Just wanted to… make sure you were alright," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart still pounding, but not from fear this time, it was something warm. "I’m okay. Just… hard to sleep sometimes."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He sank down to one knee, then both, kneeling beside your bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and his slow breaths. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but comforting.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand, resting it gently against the side of his head, your thumb brushing over his temple. His eyes widened, a brief moment of shock crossing his face.

"What are you—?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the touch almost made him wince in pain from how gentle it was. It was like your fingers brushed against some soft spot inside of him, he almost melted.

"It's okay... trust me," you started, trying to reassure him. His eyes met yours, the initial tension easing. He didn't pull away, but instead leaned into your touch in a quiet surrender. "My powers, they'll help," you added softly.

At your voice, his eyes fluttered shut, his expression softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. The walls he had built around himself crumbled bit by bit the more he felt your touch.

You hesitated, then began to hum—a soft, gentle melody, barely audible but enough to fill the silence. It felt strange, using your powers willingly again, but different this time... it brought you back to the bittersweet memories of your time before Vought. The tune was simple, soothing, a song you’d sung so many times before. Not destructive, but safe, warm.

As the notes drifted through the air, you felt Ben’s body relax under your touch. His breathing slowed, each exhale deeper, more even, and his hand reached up, covering yours as he pressed your palm closer to his face, silently grounding himself in the warmth of it.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a gentle touch, and he felt something he thought he lost... peace. A kind of comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Or something that he thought he'd given up for good, back in the old days, or maybe he'd never had it to begin with.

When your humming finally faded, he stayed there, his hand still covering yours, his eyes still closed. For a second, you thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his tone laced with a sadness that made your heart ache. "You don't understand what I've... the things that I did."

You shook your head, your hand instinctively wanting to fall from the side of his face but he only held you closer with a conflict—whether he wanted to push you away or pull you into his arms and not let go.

"All I know is that I would've been stuck in that lab if it weren't for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "A favor for a favor. I think that's fair."

"Well, it wasn't entirely my choice to break you out," he muttered, that blunt tone of his slipping through, as if it was his last attempt to pull away before sinking too deep.

A soft scoff escaped your lips. "Whatever it was, at least I'm not stuck there anymore."

Slowly, you pulled him up onto the bed beside you, and he let you, his movements careful like he was afraid he might shatter the moment. You shifted, settling so that you were facing him, the blanket fell from your shoulders to pool around your waist, leaving the bruises and scars on your arms exposed under the dim light.

Ben’s gaze traveled over each mark, each scar, but there was no horror in his expression, no pity—only reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing over a bruise on your shoulder, gentle and careful, as if touching something precious.

"They did this to you," he murmured, a hardness in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew too well.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "They're fading." you said, looking away for a moment, as if you didn't want to acknowledge the scars.

Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the bruise on your shoulder, a feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ben...?" you asked hesitantly. The small tremble in your voice made him stop, a flash of worry crossed his face, his teeth biting at his lower lip. He thought he might have overstepped.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, pulling back. He feared that he had ruined whatever small trust that had begun to form between you.

But your fingers threaded through his hair, hand pressing to the back of his head to bring him closer again. "Stop apologizing," you breathed softly.

His eyes met yours and a small smile threatened to curl up on his lips, a mutual understanding settled between the two of you before his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing an old scar, then he kissed another, and another, his mouth trailing over each scar, each bruise, as if he was trying to erase the pain they held. It felt like an apology, like he was mending you.

His touch was careful, almost reverent, and you felt the warmth of each kiss seep into your skin, soothing the ache that lay beneath. You closed your eyes, letting the gentleness of his touch wash over you.

You felt your chest restricting, your breath becoming shallow, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been so taken care of. It was overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Ben’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but the way he touched you was anything but. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped down your cheek without you even noticing. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to your forehead, a kiss so soft, so full of warmth that it made your chest warm and ache at the same time.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're still here, and I'm with you." It wasn't much, but it was the most reassurance anyone could get out of him.

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way you hadn't seen before.

Slowly, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you as you settled your forehead against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

After a long silence, you spoke, your quiet voice breaking the quiet. "Hey... Ben?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice a murmur against your hair.

"I'll help you take down Homelander."

[dioslesbianwife]

Jofoes with male reader who swears that they’re 100% absolutely NOT gay but it is sooo obvious they have a crush on them

LOL sure, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!

DIO

“I’m not gay, bro. He’s just, like, powerful. Like damn. But that’s not gay.”

You stare at his chest like it owes you money. Every time he walks by shirtless, you whisper under your breath, “This mf thinks he’s all that…” as you BITE YOUR LIP.

Dio notices. Of course he notices.

“Oh? You’re not interested in men? Then why are you always looking at me like you want me to ruin your life, hmm?”

You respond with: “Shut up, bro. That’s just how I look. You're weird.”

Dio makes it a game. He lounges around suggestively, dripping in dominance, while you go red in the face yelling, “I’M NOT LOOKING.”

Spoiler: You are.

Kars

You once said, “That’s a handsome man. In a purely aesthetic, art-appreciation sense. No homo.”

Kars is fascinated by your constant denial. “You tremble in my presence, and yet you speak such strange words.”

You tried to argue with him shirtless while oiled up for some reason. He didn’t even question it.

He leans close just to hear your heartbeat spike and be like, “Fascinating. You’re flushed. Are you ill?”

“NAH I’M GOOD BRO DON’T TOUCH ME.”

Immediately touches you anyway. You shiver. Then lie about it.

“It’s the wind.”

Yoshikage Kira

“He’s kinda elegant, I guess. But I’m not into that. Ew.”

You bring him hand lotion one day and say, “It’s for your hands, bro. Like. So they don’t get dry or whatever. It’s not weird.”

Kira finds your internal struggle hilarious. You blush when he compliments your cologne and go “pfft bro chill” then walk into a wall.

You scold him for being so into hands but always end with, “But like… you’re still kinda hot. But I’m not gay, obviously.”

Kira’s like “Of course not,” with a smug smirk while watching you struggle to keep your eyes off him.

Diavolo

You’re lowkey terrified of him but that makes it WORSE.

“No bro he’s scary as hell. No way I’d be into that. I respect myself.”

Has had three separate dreams about him pinning you against a wall.

Diavolo absolutely gaslights you into breaking. “You act so afraid of me, yet you blush when I approach. Why pretend?”

You’re like “THAT’S FEAR SWEAT. I’M SCARED. NOT TURNED ON.”

The others in Passione just nod like “Sure, man. You’re sooo scared of our boss.”

Diavolo keeps his shirt unbuttoned just to mess with you.

Doppio

You SWEAR you just think he’s “cool” and “funny.”

You constantly go “That’s my man. not in a weird way though.”

Literally held his face once and said “Look at you, you’re adorable- I mean handsome! Handsome!! NOT THAT I CARE.”

Doppio is shy but suspicious. He sees you get flustered when he gets close and goes “You okay? You’re red.”

“I’m just hot, bro. This jacket is thick. Chill.”

You definitely call him at 2am like “You up? I need someone to talk to… just, like, bro talk. You know. Not gay.”

He believes you. Diavolo doesn’t.

Pucci

“Nah he’s just wise, bro. Like I respect his conviction. His faith. His legs. I mean words.”

You sit with your knees together like a Victorian lady when he talks.

You get visibly angry when he smiles gently at you. Like “stop doing that thing with your face. I mean it’s not working or anything.”

Pucci just places a hand on your shoulder and says, “God loves you.”

You melt on the inside. Externally: “Cool. Whatever.”

You bought a Bible just so you could read it and have something in common with him. Told everyone it was for “research.”

Funny Valentine

“I’m patriotic, that’s all. Ain’t nothing wrong with admiring a powerful man who loves his country.”

You say that while practically drooling over his luxurious hair and thicc politician thighs.

You stood for the national anthem just because he walked into the room.

“Sir, I am loyal to America. And not in a weird way.”

Funny smirks. “I’m pleased to see you’re so devoted to our nation.”

“YES. TO AMERICA. NOT TO YOU. DON’T GET IT TWISTED.”

He absolutely gets it twisted on purpose just to watch you fluster and yell “I’M NOT GAY!” for the hundredth time.

Diego Brando

“I just like horses, bro. He rides them well. That’s not gay, it’s cowboy admiration.”

You always try to act cool around him but end up being a stuttering mess.

“Haha you look good- I MEAN YOUR HORSE LOOKS GOOD. DAMN.”

Diego teases you so hard. He leans in, says, “You sure you’re not into me?” and watches you spiral.

“NOPE. I’M GOOD. 100% STRAIGHT. SEE?” Then you flex and knock over a chair.

You once complimented his muscles and then didn’t sleep for 3 days from embarrassment.

Tooru

“He’s just funny, okay? Like yeah he’s cute or whatever, but like, in a gremlin way. Not in a crush way.”

Lies. LIES.

You literally giggle when he sends you a meme.

He sends you one selfie and you almost died.

You told him you were straight and he said “Okay” and sent you a photo of his collarbones five minutes later.

You called him “bro” after every sentence but forgot it halfway through because you were too busy thinking about how soft his lips looked.

He’s absolutely stringing you along, calling you “bro” and then winking at you and watching you malfunction.

[hannie-dul-set]

sorry but golden retriever sungchan x black cat reader is the only canon option! if you write a blurb on this pls i will actually kiss you in the mouth (ily btw)

[man on a mission]. jung sungchan has taken it upon himself to make you laugh at least once a day.

“you’re so fucking lame,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes, sitting in front of him at the cafeteria while he has two chopsticks sticking out of his nose. “gross,” you say, but the slight quirk of your lips and the way you quickly reach for your iced lemonade to cover it up makes him pump his fist in the air in victory— even at the expense of his image.

“ha! you laughed! i win.”

his other friends ask him why he even bothers. or, in the words of anton, “hyung, why are you so hell bent on making a fool out of yourself at least once a day?” but his motivations go beyond the selfish desire of proving that his sense of humor can even penetrate the moody and scary (i.e. you). sungchan has made is a mission to make you laugh every single day because of one single reason.

sungchan is simply sick and tired of people talking shit about you.

“it’s ridiculous!” he huffs, slamming both fists on the table after anton asked him the question. “they don’t even know them that well!” yet those same people call you bossy, call you a stick in the mud, temperamental and so on and so forth— which, sungchan has to admit isn’t all wrong. you’re always scowling or glaring or telling people off, but your love language is violence and words needled with spikes. sungchan is the only with enough fluency to see the tenderness in your light punches and your eloquent “fuck you’s” straight to his face.

no, he doesn’t want you to change. he doesn’t want you to soften up your edges just because of the thoughtless impressions of a couple dozen unimportant people. 

but it won’t hurt to see you laughing ever so often, right?

“oh my god, stop it,” you wheeze, hands pressed tightly to your face after sungchan shows you a dumb tiktok video he just saw, then imitating it with just as much grace and passion, causing you to snort out loud and burst into a fit. “fuck’s sake, i hate you so much.”

once more, mission accomplished. he forced you to tag along with his friends for dinner today, so that was a necessary move to break the ice— especially because anton is kind of afraid of you. seeing you out of your usual resting bitch face should ease their intimidation, and jung sungchan is proud of himself for a job well done seeing shotaro having a passionate discussion about a manga you’ve both read.

“no way, i couldn’t find a copy anywhere! can you lend it to me?”

there’s  a swell of pride in his chest seeing you talk so easily with someone else other than him. it’s nice to see other people finally seeing you in the same light as he had for the past couple of years. pride. yes. that’s exactly and the only thing he’s feeling right now.

“hey.”

but as your conversation with taro lengthens that you haven’t looked at him since laughing at his joke, and as eunseok discreetly calls his attention while staring at you from across the table with a look in his eyes that’s all too familiar— almost as if he’s looking straight at a mirror—sungchan thinks that maybe he should abort his mission.

“your friend has a pretty smile.”

he knows. he’s been trying to get everyone else to see it all this time.

[spikek1tty]

Slide Away

Masterlist

Content: smut, oral, unprotected sex, masturbation?, not proofread, not accurate to alien universe at all

a/n: This is me manifesting that Liam Gallagher role for Spike (it's gonna be him i swear) it better be cause i dont play about oasis or spike. ima have to get involved😈also its my birthday😼

You yawn, putting book after book on the alphabetized shelves. Soon you hear the abrupt steps of a group coming down the hall into the quiet room.

Not so quiet anymore, the shouting of the guards echos off the walls.

You push your book filled cart towards the back of the room, away from everyone until you hear your name being called.

You sigh running a frustrated hand down your face. You had no intention in helping. You head to the front, your boss sitting in the circle desk behind the computer.

Man after man in orange jumpsuits stare at you as you walk by. Your boss introduces you and praises you for your hard work.

Though your paycheck doesn't fit his acclaims. You struggle to keep from rolling your eyes. You really should be grateful though, you could be doing way worse.

You zone out as the assignment is explained to the group.

Eyes scanning the group of men, some you recognize from them having helped out here before, others you don't. However, your eyes land on two certain boys.

Not only did they stand out because of their youthful, clean faces but you had seen them before. Not in the typical way though, no, you've seen them on T.V. not long ago.

They tried to escape to some independent colony, or something of the sort, you couldn't recount every detail.

How foolish you had thought.

If you were going to make a break at least do it right. Now they're back here, doing work with no pay, no chance for another plan like that.

You pitied them really, especially the girls. The one that survived at that. You had seen her when she'd come in, kind, timid, afraid even. Everyone is excused, groups of five are sent off.

Some groups were sent to different floors to clean others doing the same work as you.

You go towards the back once again finding your cart in the same spot.

You listen to the chattering over the sound of books being placed on shelves and the sound of a wet mop hitting the cold ground.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

As you place the final book on the shelf, ridding your cart of anything you move to push it before it gets stopped, held firmly in place. You frown as you see the orange jumpsuit.

"Shouldn't you be with your group?" you roll your eyes slightly. You couldn't be bothered to deal with him.

"Nah, finished already. Told me to come ask ya if ya needed any help." he nodded his head towards the front. "Do ya?" he asks leaning towards you.

You analyze him, ripping the cigarette out from behind his pierced ear. "There's no smoking in here you know."

He chuckles "What? 's not even lit." he snatches it back. You smirk, slightly amused. You turn your back to him, messing with the books trying to make it seem like you were busy.

"Whatcha do to get in here?" you ask curious of what he would say.

You hear him grunt softly as he plops himself down on the cart, a smirk forming on his face as he hold the cigarette between his dry lips.

"What? Ya mean you haven't heard of me? Wow, that's the first." you scoff, leaning on the carts handle waiting for an actual answer.

"You really don't know?" he asked. You shake your head. He shrugs, shoving the cigarette in his pocket

"Usual thing people do ta get in 'ere." you frown slightly as he fiddles with his fingers.

You watch as he swings his legs back and forth "So how long do you have then?" he scoffs "You think they're gonna let me out?" he shakes his head.

You move to the end of the row looking at the gathered teams sitting down. Your eyes searching for the other familiar boy. "That guy your brother?" you question.

"Cousin." he corrects.

You hear him hop off the cart, standing right behind you.

His hand snakes around your hip, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

He takes in a deep breath, capturing the scent of your perfume.

You shudder before turning to him. "What're you doing?"

He cups your face, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment before he guides you back by your hips. Your lower back pressing against the edge of the cart.

"Ya know, i've been awful lonely, not very fun in there. Maybe you can help me." His lips hovering over your collar bone.

He brings his eyes up to meet yours as a shaky breath sneaks out of you.

You'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive, his eyes of blue and shaggy dark hair. The way that dreadful jumpsuit hung on him, almost making it look good.

He rests his head on yours once more before pulling your chin connecting you to him.

He froze suddenly, he didn't expect you to let this go on for long.

He swiftly pulls away and lifts you onto the cart, insensitively your arms snake around his neck.

He pushes your legs apart cautiously, fingers dancing along the sides of your thighs.

You nod and immediately, he dives down, pushing your skirt up. The fabric gathering at your waist.

He huffs in seeing the singular piece fabric that kept him from you.

Quickly, he pulls it to the side, admiring you for a second, humming before his lips connect to your clit.

You struggle to keep the gasp silent. Not wanting to notify anyone of the obscene action taking place in your area of work.

You listen to the sound of him lapping at your pussy. His fingers played at your entrance, slipping in partially before being yanked out.

You whine as his tongue leaves your core. He stares directly in your eyes as he slowly guide his fingers in you.

He watches as your face contorts with each curl of his fingers. He grows bolder with each movement until he's ripping off the orange suit.

Left hardly clothed, his cheeks tint a shade of red. You pull him in once again, though this time the kiss is different, its slow, intimate.

You hear as a loud voice calling all the prisoners back to the main area echos. That breaks both of you out of the daze of your kiss.

He strokes his cock eagerly before guiding himself in you. Your teeth sink into the skin of his neck forcing a hiss from him.

You pull away, smirking in seeing your work.

The rows of your teeth etched around a mark of purple. As another echoed yell from the main guard is heard the man speed up.

You throw your head back a whimper ripped out of you, you sit up quickly, eyes widened. The man stops, both waiting for someone to come find you.

As you hear no one walking towards your area he resumes.

Tears form in your eyes as you feel the knot forming. Short gasps escape as he pounds into you. He buries his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his groaning.

The guard now yells a specific name. Bjorn.

You can tell his close as his pace become sloppy and impatient. His head hangs low only held up by your shoulder.

You tug his hair forcing him to look up at you, his eyes threatening to close.

"Is that you? Bjorn?"

He chuckles softly and nods lazily.

"Better make this quick, yeah?"

He hugs you close to him before releasing deep in you. You rest your head against him one last time, both drinking in each others silent moans.

You sigh as he pulls out.

Your fingers slip down to your pussy, toying with yourself, collecting the mix of both releases.

You sit up licking the taste off your fingers.

He catches the last second of your action and curses under his breath. "Fuck. Here let me help you." he says pulling you off the cart and steadying you.

He pats down your legs in an effort to smooth out your skirt. Though, the only thing you focused on was the feeling of how his release rushes out of you, setting into your panties.

"Gotta get back.." he says annoyed, shrugging the jumpsuit back on "see you 'round, yeah?" you nod, unsure of what to say to him.

He runs to the rest of the group and gets scolded, pushed harshly towards the exit by the main guard.

Not before giving you one final smirk.

You shudder. You couldn't believe what you just took part in.

You reach for the cart and roll your eyes. You'd have to clean it off before going home.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

[mueritos]

heyy, do you have any advice on not getting scared when doing t injections? I did my 15th one today and every time I do it i just get more scared idk why. im not scared of the pain or fucking up my anxiety just spikes everytime im about to do it :[ the moment the needle breaks through the skin its fine though. (also you are a very big inspirstion to me and I love your style and also thank you for posting about hrt, I learned a lot ^_^)

hello friend! thank you for trusting me with this question. i can say a few things that come to mind. one is that with time, you build your confidence with injections, and eventually you might find specific sites that work better for you. For example, I spent my first yr on t injecting into my thighs, but i found that it made my anxiety worse and I had many bad shots, including hematomas, that developed. Instead, I now primarily do all of my shots into my glute muscle, and I find it is far less painful. while it is more difficult to inject, i find that the ways I twist my body distract me from any pain.

Secondly, I would like to say that with time you will get less anxious about your shots. it took me several years to build confidence and to no longer be so afraid. I used to be near-fainting every time i did my shot (and ive never fainted before t shots) and would poke myself 5 or 6 times trying to find an injection shot! Now, five years later, i can confidently inject with little anxiety. However, it doesn't go away completely, it just is not always present. Some shots are more difficult than others, and that's okay! Recognize that there's no singular point in which you stop being scared of shot, and its in fact a biological response to having to hurt yourself!

Some tips: schedule your shot with plenty of time. If it's shot day but you woke up late and usually do it before class or work, just save it for later! Being a few hours or a day or two late on your shot isn't going to ruin your journey. Build a routine with your shot, like implementing a treat afterward or playing a song that keeps you happy/calm. Another tip is to train a friend on how to give you shots! I've had my twin give me some shots when I was particularly anxious, and this can give you time to regulate before your next shot. If you're not comfortable with a friend giving you a shot, see if you feel better having a friend with you during shots! This can be on the phone or in person, as I find talking to someone while doing a shot distracts me from what makes me anxious.

And the final tip: if shots bring up debilitating anxiety, consider switching injection site, im to subq, or switch to a different form of t! there's nothing wrong with switching to gel if shots don't work for you ^-^

hope that all helped! if anyone else has any tips, leave them in the notes!

[actual-changeling]

i remember being in sixth grade when someone asked me for the first time why i am like this.

"you're like, alright. once someone gets used to you."

it wasn't a compliment and i did not take it as one, instead i tried to explain. too young and without the right words to describe my pain, it became the words i did know. it became my life.

"there's a wall," i said, "and i put spikes on it so whenever someone tries to get close, they pull their hand back and don't try again."

"why?"

i did not understand the question.

why.

because.

pain, i thought, was life. life is pain. hands are dangerous. bite or get bit.

i wanted to ask 'why don't you?' but we had reached our classroom, the break was over. children wouldn't understand, everyone always says, but what about the children that did not get a choice? what about the children who know but do not understand?

what about me?

years later, someone would ask me the same question again, and i had the words that time, i could have explained, could have shown them mark after mark, painted the world red just to make them understand.

it is always red to me, there's shadows in every corner and you do not see the blood trails leading to them. you do not see the warning signs in a world that is nothing but a collection of consequences.

because, i responded eventually, leaving it at that and smiling just enough to make people less scared of me. smiling to make sure they did not know how afraid i was of them.

now, years later, i can tell you what i refused to voice in a room dripping red.

because i need to protect what little is left of me.

because i was torn apart before i learned how to shape a single brick.

because i want to.

because i know what happens if i don't.

because i never had the words for my pain and so it ate me alive.

[illym]

“I’m afraid I don’t recall your name…?”

“I am Potemkin.” They stopped a few feet from her, allowing plenty of space. At xer blank expression, they added, “I work for President Gabriel of Zepp.” Xer face remained blank, and they slumped. “I’ve come to your house to convince you to move to Zepp… You once launched me half a mile with your hammer…”

“Ah. Erm. I’m sure our prior meetings were lovely…”

—

We meet Potemkin.

Chapter theme: Providence by Poor Man's Poison

—

“…Today really is absolutely gorgeous.” Taking a bite from the meat bun in xer hand, Sylv shaded her eyes as she looked up at the sky. “Sparingly clouded, and you can really feel the sunlight when you step into it.” It was bright blue the whole way to the edges of the horizon, the sort of uniformity that only happened in the middle of the day. The clouds floating within it kept the sun from bearing down too harshly.

“And… There we are.” In the distance was the only thing breaking up the perfect blue of the sky. Zepp was visible on the horizon, partially obscured by buildings. The country was large enough that if it were in the way of the sun, the people below wouldn’t get any direct light for days, if not a week.

Sylv wondered if the people in charge of its flight plans ever deliberately directed the country over the homes of people they disliked in order to ruin their day.

Maybe xe’d go up and ask one. It’d be a pain to find one, sure, but now that she thought of it xe desperately wanted to know the answer. She hadn’t been up in ages, and it was always better to negotiate material contracts on their home turf, so it wouldn’t be like she was only going to find out the answer to her question. They always had the best roasted nuts, too. Her mouth watered just thinking about them.

But it wasn’t worth going at this point in the day. Even with this city’s Zepp stop active, it’d take the better part of an hour to get up there, to say nothing of the line to get on the trams. The ticket prices, hotel prices, and food prices were nothing to laugh off. It just wouldn’t be worth getting up there after noon, considering it’d only give her a couple hours before necessitating a hotel room. Xe had a lunch packed from the run in with the restaurant owner, keeping those costs down, but the real wallet killer was finding a place to sleep. There were no options so high in the sky, and the hotel owners knew it. It’d be way too cold up there to consider sleeping outside to avoid the gouging, either.

Chewing hard on the soft bun, Sylv crossed the idea off. It just wasn’t worth it. Xe didn’t need anything from up there, and even if it were early in the morning she would’ve wanted the time to prepare. It really wasn’t worth it. Not worth it at all.

She took another bite of the bun. It was so soft. It practically melted in her mouth.

…Xe would beat someone for roasted nuts.

“Hm? Sylv Clayflower, is that you?”

“AAAAAGH!” Sylv jerked at the interruption, the sudden noise making her pulse spike. Whirling around, xe pulled xer hammer to a protective position. “Wha— who—!”

The giant down the street raised their hands, fingers splayed out as if to show they held nothing. “I apologize for surprising you. I didn’t intend to.”

“N…No…” Sylv waved to them, dropping her hammer and pressing xer hand to xer chest. “I was… It wasn’t your fault. Don’t take any blame.” Waiting for him to step closer, she continued speaking. “I’m afraid I don’t recall your name…?”

“I am Potemkin.” They stopped a few feet from her, allowing plenty of space. At xer blank expression, they added, “I work for President Gabriel of Zepp.” Xer face remained blank, and they slumped. “I’ve come to your house to convince you to move to Zepp… You once launched me half a mile with your hammer…”

“Ah. Erm.” Sylv squeezed her hands together. The offer to move to Zepp rung a bell, but none of the surrounding context was coming back. “I’m sure our prior meetings were lovely…”

The person let out a sigh. “I take that to mean you haven’t considered it, then.”

“Ah… No. I can’t say that I have.”

“…Let’s have a match.” They looked her in the eyes, face serious. “If I win, will you give working in Zepp a trial run?”

Sylv’s eyes widened. “I…”

“No strings attached, and it wouldn’t go on for more than a year.” They spread their hands out in front of them in a welcoming gesture.

Pulling at xer hair, Sylv took a moment to respond. “…If I win, can I have free transit to and from Zepp? It’s so expensive to get to wherever you’re docked, let alone the price to get up and down…”

“I can promise that.”

HEAVEN OR HELL.

Sylv held her hand out, the other placed loosely upon xer waist. “I look forward to seeing how you fight.”

Potemkin put his collar on, adjusting it to fit snugly. “Let’s finish this well.”

LET'S ROCK.

Potemkin thrust an arm out, smashing against Sylv’s hastily erected guard and pushing xem back a pace. He followed with a kick that failed to land, Sylv hopping back well out of range.

“You’re as light on your feet as ever.” He twisted his foot, stones breaking off the cobblestone as his heel pressed down.

“In comparison, or in general?” Dashing forward a pace, xe pulled her hammer from the air, twisting xer whole body to move with the motion.

Dropping to an immediate crouch, Potemkim threw out his hand. “Speed isn't the only thing that makes a fight, however.” He flicked his finger.

Magic burst from his hand, sparkling across the space between them. The moment it hit xer hammer, it threw itself backwards as if its momentum had been wholly reversed.

“Shit—!” Sylv twisted to follow, too surprised to drop it and grip too sturdy for it to wretch itself from xer grasp.

Potemkin took advantage of the blatant opening, jabbing out with an open palm to smack Sylv in the side. Kicking up a foot, it lifted Sylv in the air, just high enough to him to handchop xem in the torso, sending her flying back.

Crashing against the side of a building, Sylv hung there for a long moment. Crumpling to the floor, xe didn't move.

“I know that wasn't enough to finish you off.” Potemkin advanced slowly, shaking the earth.

“Mmmmmmy fucking… everything.” Wretching a cough, Sylv rolled to a ready position. “Fuck. You hit hard. I'll try not to let that happen again.”

“It's standard tactics to try not to get hit.”

“Okay, well— I'll try harder than usual.” Tensing, xe shot up from the ground, launching over Potemkin’s head and swinging xer hammer to crack into the backs of his fingers. Fingers forced down, he aborted his grab attempt. Landing, xe jumped back a pace, scrutinizing him. “Make it more important. Is that good enough?”

Turning on his heel, Potemkin flicked his finger again, the magic spluttering out before it reaches Sylv. Xe jumped back anyway, clutching xer hammer warily. “It's less important to me than to you. It's rather to my benefit if you forget, in fact.”

“Why would you remind me?” Sylv's mind flew through all her options, flitting from one to the next in a matter of moments. She couldn't get in close; he'd absolutely cream xem. Throwing her hammer would work, but xe had to admit the idea of him throwing it back twice as hard was horrific. Both because of the physical pain and the emotional pain of him touching it.

“For a fight like this, there's little point in winning if you're that far off your game.” The man chuckled, stepping forward. “If I cannot win when you use all of the options available to you, it won't feel as if I won at all.”

Every one of Sylv's neurons snapped to one single thought.

‘If I can't beat him up close, I'll have to beat him at a distance.’

Whirling xer hammer, she slammed its head against the stone pavement. “Let's change it up!”

One moment the item in her hands was a giant hammer; in the next, a giant gun-cannon. Heaving it to rest on her shoulder, a broad grin overtook xer face. “Let's make some fireworks.”

Twisting xer heel to anchor against the floor, xe gripped the handle and pulled the trigger.

A huge bullet exploded out in a burst of colors, shooting right for Potemkin. It hit its mark, blowing the man back. Clanging her bracelet against the barrel, xe squeezed the trigger again, releasing another.

“This is new.” Potemkin threw up his arm, grimacing as the bullet sank in.

“I like fighting on the ground my opponent uses.” Hitting xer hammer with her bracelet against, xe reset her stance. “No fun to just shoot you from ten paces away if you've got no way to respond.”

“Why did you bring it out now?” Potemkin threw out another finger flick.

“I really want that transit pass.”

Anchoring her heel against the earth, xe pressed her finger against the barrel as xe held the trigger down. “Here's a fun one!” A long moment later, a ball shot out from the barrel, narrowing down on Potemkin.

It hit, and it exploded.

Coughing, Potemkin brought his hand up to cover his face. “What kind of—?”

Sylv cut through the smoke, whirling xer hammer. “You're in for a hit.” Its face smashed Potemkin in his, forcing the man to the ground.

He jolted off the ground, and xe swung her hammer again, forcing him higher in the air. Letting her hammer flash away in a burst of red, xe punched him in the chest a few times, following up with an elbow jab right in the stomach.

Ducking to the floor, xe swept a leg out, knocking him away and to the floor.

Potemkin pushed himself to his feet, sweat trickling into his eye. “You—”

Sylv's hammer smashed into him, spinning around and around rapidly. The hammer mashed into his stomach. A moment passed. He flew off, blasting up and away until his flight was cut short by crashing into a nearby building, falling to the ground with bricks landing on top of him.

SLASH!

Sylv stepped forward, extending an arm straight out to the side with the other held in front of her waist. She bowed neatly, hair tickling xer cheeks.

“That was thrilling. I’m glad we fought.”

Standing straight again, Sylv clapped. “That free transit is mine!”

Potemkin stood slowly, groaning. “Can I ask why you’re so reluctant to come to Zepp? We were willing to pay relocation fees, and you would receive sizable benefits working here. Working with Black Technology outside of Zepp can be… Difficult.”

“Mmmm.” Sylv chewed on xer lip. “I… During our fight, I recalled a bit more of your original offer. I remember that I did consider it for a bit. But…” Xe flexed her hands. “The fact that… The difficulty in…” Xe blew out air. “It… I… It feels like I’m trapped. Or, it would, if I lived here.” Sylv shrugged. “Or maybe I wouldn’t. I don’t know. Maybe I’d be fine. But, for now, no matter how much you wish for me to come here permanently… I’m afraid I must decline. I’m always available for commissioned work, though.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Privately, Potemkin couldn’t understand her feelings at all. If she felt trapped on an airship this large… A fear that irrational, he doubted they could ever convince xem to work in Zepp. “If you ever change your mind…” He handed two cards over, comically small in his hands.

“Ah.” Sylv peered at them as xe took them, tucking the first in her jacket. “A business card. Here's mine.” Xe pulled out one of her own, passing it over. Peering at the second one, xe looked back up at him. “And what’s this one?”

“A temporary pass. It will get you to Zepp until I get you a personalized pass.” Potemkin tucked her card into his pocket. “It should arrive within a week or two.”

“Excellent. That works well for me.” Nodding, xe pressed it into her wallet. “Thank you.”

“I hope to see you again.” Potemkin turned to go. “And…” He turned back. “Try not to forget my name.”

“Ah. My apologies.” Sylv ran a hand through her teal hair, flustered. Potemkin disappeared down a street, and Sylv waited one-two-three-four seconds before throwing xer arms out.

“Yes! Woo! Nice!” Bouncing on xer heels, a smile spread across xer face. “I’m so excited! This is great. Fantastic. Useful! I’m gonna be able to go up there way more often! I should do something to celebrate!”

—

Potemkin is hard to write because he's so incredibly normal and well adjusted (relative to the rest of the cast). Any other character in his position would grab Sylv by the shoulders and start carting her off, and he just goes "Well, damn.". If Gabriel was deeply serious about getting all Black Technology workers up to Zepp, it would of course be a different matter.

Like it or not, it's been almost 200 years since the Dawn of Revival; nobody really remembers why it's banned, only that it is. Gabriel is willing to do some nasty things to keep his people and the world safe, but forced abduction of a tinkerer with little ambition is something he doesn't want to fall to.

...Does Sol even know why Black Tech is banned? We all assume he made a record player with magic, but maybe the guy doesn't know. Asuka visits him in dreams to say "Uh Fred... Please don't use that..." And Sol spits on him and goes to build a motorcycle.

Slayer probably knows, but he probably believes in the individual over the government. He seems like that kind of guy. Sharon actively encourages people to get into Black Tech.

Asuka certainly isn't spreading the good word.

[gaasuba]

The Fine Line Between Sacred And Profane

Tags: Fluff. Comfort. Gayatri needs and gets a hug

Preview: "Miles..." Gayatri's voice is quiet, and she sounds uncertain as she looks at her lap. It's so unlike her. Pavitr grips Miles' hand tightly as they wait for her to continue. "Do you and the others... not like me?"

Link to AO3

Miles barely manages to not stumble when he lands on the other side of the portal in 50101. He hasn't seen Pavitr in so long, both of them busy with school work, but now that it's summer break he can pop in unannounced without worry! Or.... Almost without worry. His excited grin falters when he sees Gayatri's startled expression. Of course he forgot to check if she was here. He feels incredibly embarrassed by his lack of consideration. She and Pavitr are sitting like they were just having tea together.

"Oh! H-hey you guys. I'm sorry. Is this a bad time? I can... go..." he says awkwardly, pointing back at where his portal just closed.

"Of course not!" Pavitr shouts, ecstatic to see him after being apart for so long. He does a flip over the kitchen table between them then pulls Miles into a tight hug, lifting him and spinning a full 360 on his heel, "I've missed you so much!" Miles laughs and hugs back just as tight, briefly reassured by Pavitr's words, but when he glances at Gayatri she still seems upset.

"Miles..." Gayatri's voice is quiet, and she sounds uncertain as she looks at her lap. It's so unlike her. Pavitr grips Miles' hand tightly as they wait for her to continue. "Do you and the others... not like me?"

"Gayatri, no!" Pavitr answers instinctually, but the unexpected question leaves Miles stunned for a moment. "Why would you think that!?" Bless Pav for asking what he's thinking.

"Everyone seems kind of... afraid of me?" As she speaks, Pavitr lets go of Miles' hand and runs the short distance back to the table to hold her's instead. "Everyone seems so disappointed to see me when they show up unannounced. Like you did just now." Her words along with the crack in her voice make their hearts ache. Pavitr sits to pull her into a firm hug from her side and she leans into it. "Even Hobie, who's usually so affectionate with all of their friends, they still keep their distance... At first I thought it was maybe just that I'm a celebrity. I'm used to that!" her voice spikes near the end but lowers again as she continues, her tears finally spilling over, "I thought if I was patient you would all get over it and I could finally be a proper part of everything, but-"

"I think you're amazing!" Miles blurts out, cutting her off and causing her to look up at him in surprise. He kind of surprised himself.

"Then why...?"

Pavitr starts fidgeting with his watch to send a group message.

"Because you're so cool and beautiful and... You!" Miles gestures at her as if that makes his language failure make more sense, and he can feel his face grow hot in embarrassment. "Pav is so crazy lucky to have you, and...!" He pauses to get his volume back under control, "and you've been so chill about the whole polyamory thing. None of us wanted to mess that up by being too much, you know?" Gayatri looks like she's going to cry harder. Miles' watch beeps with his notification for the cule's group chat and resists checking it, figuring it must be what Pavitr was typing.

"So... So you've just been trying to be polite? All this time??" A portal opens before Miles can answer, it's art style obvious, and Hobie shoots out of it, landing more gracefully than Miles had.

"So what's the emer-"

Pavitr interrupts them by quickly snatching up Gayatri and shoving her into their arms, startling them both. Then he steps back, covering his mouth and nose like he's praying the hug will cure her of a deadly poison and barely believes it's possible.

"So... what's all this then?" Hobie asks, holding Gayatri at the hight he had handed her to them, and Pavitr briefly uncovers his mouth to answer.

"Gayatri thinks you hate her!" he shouts, then returns his hands to his face.

"I think," Miles continues uncertainly, "I think she's wanted to be a part of the cule ever since Pavitr joined." Hobie's eyes widen, their brow furrows, and they hug Gayatri tighter.

"Every movie night," Gayatri says, her voice muffled by Hobie's shoulder as she hugs them under their battle jacket, "you get comfortable with someone in your lap." Her breath hitches before she continues, "Anyone but me." There's a brief silence filled with nothing but Gayatri's sob and attempts to catch her breath. In that moment, Gwen's portal appears and she leaps out gracefully.

"What's the emergency??"

"Emergency movie night," Hobie replies curtly, walking past her as they lift Gayatri's legs to hold her proper, then shifting their full attention to her. "You got a regular comfort show, love?" She nods against their shoulder. "You got that then, Pav?" they ask a bit louder while Miles and Gwen follow attentively behind, not wanting to miss a moment they might be needed.

"Of course!" Pavitr replies, rushing past them all to start setting up.

[pansexy-choices-the-sequal]

No One Can Take You From Me

Series: It Lives in the Woods

Pairing: Andy x Angel

Summary: This is what I canon happened after Andy and MC had their first kiss in Britney's pool. AKA after math of "What do you say we go borrow Britney's laundry room for a bit, maybe find some cozy blankets to wrap up in while our clothes dry?"

Genre: Fluff. There's some shirtlessness but this is NOT MEANT TO BE NSFW. MC may be canonically an adult at the beginning of the book, but we never get confirmation if Andy is or not

Tags: @choicesapril2025 @choicesmonthlychallenge prompts-New Beginnings, Old Feelings: Reuniting after years apart.

Note: If people are interested I can post a version with (Y/N) or (MC) so people can insert their own MCs!

The two of you skirt past the crowd in search of Britney’s laundry room, trying your best to not trail water on the floor. Andy has a hand clasped firmly on yours as he leads you through the throng.

“This should be it,” He says, nudging open a door tucked in a corner on the first floor. The room’s small but comfortable, with a washer, dryer, sink, and clothes line for delicates. You shuffle inside after Andy and lock the door behind you, suddenly conscious of the mass of party goers outside. Your diffidence spikes further as you realize what’s supposed to happen next. It isn’t practical to awkwardly stand here in your freezing, drenched clothes until they dry, but you hadn’t exactly thought it through when you agreed to sneak off with Andy earlier. He, thankfully, breaches the topic first,

“You okay, Ang? You look a little tense.”

“Oh! I’m fine… just cold. Uh- Is it okay if I take off my clothes in front of you?” The question comes out of you in a rushed breath.

“Ha! How prudish do you think I am?” Andy teases, “You’ll catch a cold if you keep wearing your wet clothes.” A beat of silence ensues, he rubs the back of his neck, a nervous look breaks out across his face, then,

“Actually, if anything I should ask…. do you mind if I take my chest binder off?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not supposed to wear binders wet. It’s bad for you.”

“Oh!” Immediately, you turn your back to him, “Of course.” You hear him breathe a laugh through his nose, perhaps he thinks it’s silly how cautious you’re being. 

It’s true that you both aren’t cis, theoretically there shouldn’t be any problem. But it’s different for him, you know this. You never had to worry too much about your body changing and warping in ways you didn’t want it to. It was pretty clear early on that your chest wasn’t going to fill out, and you didn’t mind your slender shoulders or the curve of your hips as a gender nonconforming person.

There’s faint shuffling behind you, then the opening of a closet door, you keep your focus trained solely on yourself and your own soaked attire. 

“I found some towels,” Andy says from behind you, “there’s only one blanket though. Hope you don’t mind sharing.” He notices your refusal to turn, and his voice softens,

“It’s fine, Ang. You can look at me.” 

“Oh….. okay,” You turn and open your eyes slowly. Andy stands casually with a blanket draped over his broad shoulders in nothing but his briefs. His clothes are splayed out on the washing machine beside him air drying. He gives you a sheepish look,

“Is this….. okay?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

He opens his arms so the blanket unfurls and gestures for you to duck under with him. You keep your eyes trained on his as you move forward, stopping a few inches short of him so that you don’t quite touch. Andy backs away a little,

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“No no no no, I’m fine. I just uh…..” You wring your hands together, “… are you?”

To your surprise, Andy chuckles, “You don’t have to be so afraid, Ang. I trust you.” You flush, biting your lip in concern,

“Really? You’re sure you’re comfortable with this, Andy?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve never seen me as anything other than what I am.” The sincerity and trust in his eyes is enough to make you fall to pieces. There is truth to that statement. Even before he realized he was trans, when he felt unsatisfied with his identity but didn’t have the words to describe it, you were the one he always turned to. When his hair was long and he felt uncomfortable with how his mom had braided it, he’d always come to you asking you to undo it. You’d tie it up and tuck it all under a baseball cap for him. When he was upset because his parents picked out dresses for him to wear on picture days, you’d come to school with an extra set of clothes for him to change into afterwards. When someone would call him by his full birth name as a child, you’d notice him recoil when no one else would, and against your shy nature you’d speak,

“They prefer Andy.” If your timid voice was lost in the wind, you’d repeat it like a record until everyone heard.

These were small acts in the grand scheme of things, but your consistent willingness to make him as confident and happy as he could possibly be without ever stopping to interrogate him forged an ineffable bond between you two. One that seems to have endured even after all those years of estrangement.

Remembering all this, you feel a surge of assurance and step into the embrace of his arms with a soft smile. He immediately clasps his arms around you in a hug, engulfing you with warmth. You yelp as he pulls you to the floor with him so you’re nested in his lap. Against yourself, you flush as the firm planes of his toned body press against yours. You hadn’t been this close to him since you were kids - when you’d wrestle and learn to do cartwheels together and fall asleep against each other watching movies. It was different then, you’re grown up now. You’d just kissed. If you close your eyes, you could still feel him on your lips.

Your blush intensifies as Andy rests his hand atop your head and nestles you in the crook of his neck. You worry that he’ll feel how hot your face has grown. His skin is smooth and soft against yours. You’re so overwhelmed by how safe and comfortable you are that it makes you sleepy.

“You feel so good in my arms,” Andy murmurs against your hair, “you’re so warm.” You let out a contented hum. The tranquility around you both is astonishingly comfortable; neither of you feel pressured to fill the silence. 

Andy shifts a little, careful not to disturb you and leans closer. His gaze rakes over you adoringly, almost like he can’t believe you’re there with him. Your eyes widen a little as he swoops down to nuzzle his face against your neck.

“Are we there yet?” He asks suddenly, you give him a puzzled look.

“There?”

“Like….. Can I kiss you?” This time, you’re the one who laughs.

“Why wouldn’t you? We just did ten minutes ago.”

“I mean….” His face turns bashful, “Can I kiss you everywhere? Like…. Your neck and stuff?”

“Oh!” You can’t help the trace of eagerness in your voice, “Yeah. I’d really like that.” Andy breaks into a relieved smile,

“Awesome.”

Keeping his arm wrapped around your shoulders and using his freehand to cup your face, he brushes his lips against your forehead first. He presses a kiss to your temple next, then your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut and he sweeps two kisses over your lashes. He blazes a trail down your face, over your jaw, down your neck, and to your shoulders, stopping mid way to nip at your ear. A shuddery sigh slips from you involuntarily, and you almost melt from embarrassment,

“Crap, sorry!” You say burying your face in your hands. Andy laughs,

“You’re so fricken cute.” This makes you blush even harder, “You don’t have to say sorry for feeling good - just means I’m doing a good job.” Andy gives you a cheeky grin, you smirk in response and a surge of confidence overtakes you. It occurs to you then, gazing at his dazzling smile, how much you want to spoil him in return. All the years spent apart when he was tormented by others at school and you were too traumatized from Jane’s death to reach out to him again. You want to devour him, give him everything he deserves and more - to make up for lost time.

“Humph, well mind if I return the favor?” You say. Impossibly, Andy’s eyes light up even brighter.

“That’d be awesome. Just…” he rubs his nape shyly, “keep it above the collar.”

“Of course.” You reach up to run your fingers through his damp hair before trailing them down the sharp lines of his jaw, savoring the sight of him. He nuzzles into your hand and you take advantage of the new angle and place an open mouthed kiss to his pulse point. You playfully nibble his ear lobe next, where his piercing is, making him giggle. Your kisses are slower than his, deliberate and lingering. You shift so you’re straddling him and continue trailing down his neck. His hand goes to the small of your back, pressing you evermore closer.

“Mmmmm,” he moans, leaning into your touch. You take a moment then, to pull back and press your forehead against his. His dark brown eyes are glassy in an adorable, dopey, star struck way. Your heart stutters at the acknowledgement that that look’s for you.

“The mighty King Kang on his knees for a dorky, art nerd,” You tease, “little tiny childhood Angel is freaking out right now.” 

“Imagine how little tiny Andy feels.” Andy says back, you chuckle.

“Probably weirded out. I don’t think anyone like you would’ve imagined they’d end up with someone like me.” Andy cocks an eyebrow at you, perplexed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We didn’t  really make sense on paper back then. I was always a people pleasing doormat as a kid and you…. Were everything but that.” The look Andy gives you is confused and incredulous.

“Ang, I’ve liked liked you ever since we were little kids.” He says. The breath leaves you all at once; something in your chest clenches. The shock must show on your face because Andy continues,

“You didn’t notice? Everyone else said it was pretty obvious.” You take a moment to reflect on this; Scenes from your childhood together rewind in your mind’s eye in a new light. You recall suddenly, that whenever you got picked on by other kids, Andy would come rushing to your side before anyone else, before Jane even. It wasn’t just when you were getting harassed either, it was whenever you were scared at all. When your friends wanted to watch scary movies, when you were too afraid to ask the adults for something, when you had nightmares during your sleepovers. You remember the warmth of his hand curling around yours, how he’d tuck you protectively behind him even though he was shorter at the time.

You just assumed he was like that with everyone - that it was just in his nature to be brave when he saw someone cowardly like you.

But you see it in his vulnerable expression, it’s true. You were Andy Kang’s first love.

“But if everyone else knew …. Why didn’t you say anything to me?” You say once you find your voice again.

“Well, I didn’t know it was a crush until years later… and we were all split up by then,” his expression grows more guarded, “It was also… after I realized ….  And I just… I just thought - no one would want me like that, after….” His voice breaks a little as he trails off. Your heart cracks at the noise.

There’s so much to be said. You want to tell him how hilariously absurd and ironic this all is. Because you loved him before you even completely understood what that meant. You knew that he was different from the moment you met him, and you never gave a damn. You fell for him because he was daring and bold and kind. That didn’t change once he transitioned. But all you manage is,

“Oh…” everything else catches in your throat, “Oh, Andy…” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and tuck your face into the crook of his neck. He hugs you back fiercely, releasing a shaky breath against your nape. You try to communicate everything you want to say through the embrace alone; you want it all to penetrate his bones and pierce through his soul so that he’d know as long as you exist someone will always want him as he is.

“Bet when I said ‘I’d been wanting to do that for a while’ you didn’t expect this huh?” Despite Andy’s effort to break the tension, you hear the uncertainty in his voice. It makes you think back to what he said after he kissed you for the first time.

I guess I just like you a lot and I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same.

Andy Kang. The boy who wasn’t afraid of anything - Not of scraping his knees to conquer the tallest climbing tree he could find, not of coming out to a conservative town in the middle of Oregon, not of fighting monsters in the woods to save his friends. The bravest person you’d ever met, Andy Kang, feared losing you.

“Andy,” you pull back and cradle his face in your hands, “the years apart are over now. I’ve wanted you for so long…. If you’ll have me, then I’m yours - and no one can take me away from you.” You fluster as the words leave your mouth - somehow that all sounded less nauseatingly cheesy in your head. You expect him to laugh at you - to poke fun of how you could say something so tender to someone you’d reconnected with for less than a month. But he just gazes at you with the most reverent look in his eyes.

“No one can take you away from me.”

[scarredwoods]

Since Leo is your favorite obviously lol! What’s your opinion on Raph for 03 and 12

Haha, so fun fact, Raph actually used to be my favorite until Leo took over first place when I got older

Out of all the turtles, Raph became one of my first fictional crushes (plus one of my gay awakenings) when I was a kid, but I'll gladly still answer that question

(Warning, it's a bit long and has episode spoilers)

I was born in 2004, but I did grow up with 03 because I found all the episodes free on YouTube one day and continuously binge watched them while also watching 2012 at the same time. While I resonated with Leo a lot now because of the oldest sibling syndrome, Raph was the one who captured my young little heart with how cool he was.

12Raph: He's a sassy fucker who won't waste an opportunity to say something snippy towards one of his brothers. 1st episode immediately showed that when Leo was talking out loud so Snake could hear them talking. Although Raph followed his lead, he couldn’t help himself but make fun of him during the interaction and put the blame on Leo on how Snake got away. He's a very fleshed out character with multiple flaws that all tie together with his character. Despite the discussion of his anger issues having their own episodes, sometimes I wish the writers actually had Splinter show him or give him private lessons on how to control his anger instead of having everyone around him tell him that he needs to control it and how it's getting in the way of their team/mission. Sure Splinter gave him a breathing exercise, but that was a bout it, and Raph barely ever uses it in the show.

Thankfully, the show didn't make it seem like anger was his only personality and made an effort to show the audience that he had a kind and softer side using the animals around him like Spike, the roof pigeons, and Chompy. Also, Raph getting a girlfriend and Mona Lisa coming back was one of the best decisions the writers ever did. To me, they are the definition of ship so good, even the gays love it. I love Mona Lisa to death, and I love her relationship with Raph. They are truly meant for each other. *chefs kiss*

Overall, I give 12Raph 8.5/10, the writers giving Raph a bug phobia was so funny bit very fitting that tough guy like him is afraid of a tiny bug

03Raph: Where do I start. Obviously, gotta start with the obvious and put out how sassy he is. This guy will not hesitate to make a sarcastic comment even in the most dangerous of situations. I see it as his personal comedic relief. Yeah, he has a short temper, everyone knows that, but he only lashes it out to people his age or older people he knows can take it. But when it comes to little kids and animals, he'll be patient for as long as he needs to. It's clear that his tough guy persona is a shield to protect himself from all backlash of being a mutant turtle in a human populated place where he knows he will never be accepted. Yet when he finds people who do, he puts the shield down and lets himself let loose. The obvious example of this is with the old lady who mistook him for the neighbor's son. Yeah, Raph needed to get away from the purple dragons, but he could've easily left once the coast was clear. Instead, he stayed and helped the old lady and took the time to enjoy his break from the shield. He even came back to give her a briefcase filled with money after hearing how she was losing her apartment.

The guy loves his family and even drops the shield during moments where he thinks he's about to lose one o le if something serious happens to them. He was even one of the first people to notice Leo changing because of how similar he was acting to himself.

A thing that the writers did a good job here is during the episode when they addressed his anger issues (after almost bashing Mikey with a pipe) and finally resolved it in the end, the character development stuck with him. Which I'm really glad. Cause honestly, it's tiring when shows show that a character is getting better from something, only for it to be forgotten in the next episode.

Overall, this Raph gets a 9/10, especially because I love it when he laughs

Sorry if this was long, but I love yapping when someone gives me the opportunity to. If you have any more questions for me, please ask, I'll answer all :)

[wetcatspellcaster]

Hi! Sorry to bother you again, I'm the one who asked you a while ago if it was okay to ask for some tips on writing dialogue. Thank you so much for your availability and time 🙇‍♀️ I'm mostly curious about how you structure your dialogues and how you manage to build chemistry between the characters through banter. Do you follow a particular set of rules or does it just come natural to you? You write so many ideas and cool dialogues, how do you manage to come up with so many? In general, if you have any tips for a fledgling "writer", they are super welcome. No pressure, of course, I really don't want to intrude/steal your time. P.s. I forgot last time to tell you that I also really loved your AU fic, Party Favours. I was hooked from the first lines and I had so much fun reading it. It was a really comforting and entertaining read, like drinking a hot chocolate in winter. Honestly, thank you so much for gifting us with such a warm and funny story. 🥰☕

Hey! Thank you for being so nice about my writing and the strengths you think I have - I didn't know I had them, so it was interesting to see my work from someone else's perspective.

And also don't worry, it's not a bother to answer this question. Although I'm not sure how helpful I'll be as I have no formal training and that might mean my explanations aren't useful!!

I'll try to answer as best I can :)

I don't really have rules for chemistry, I'll be honest, but my favourite dynamic (as is fucking obvious from many a fic I've written) is overconfident flirt/straight-laced practical killjoy. Luckily for me... there are a lot of these in media (Howl/Sophie, Tamaki/Haruhi, certain flavours of Buffy/Spike, Jude/Cardan from The Cruel Prince, Labyrinth fanfiction, whatever was going on with Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries)! So I guess, if I was to give advice on that... I'd say if you really like a certain dynamic, go and look for examples of how they work elsewhere. Work out what it is about the pairing that makes your brain itch, or examine how these characteristic interactions play out, if there's any kind of formula to them - for instance, in Party Favours, the bit where Astarion is actively and overconfidently faking while talking to Threnn while Rose gets more and more flustered, was based partly on a fake relationship episode of Buffy lol. Like I didn't copy it word for word or anything, but it was an idea I saw elsewhere that I knew would be good for the pairing. .

Coming up with ideas... again, idk how idiosyncratic my process is. I maladaptive daydream a lot, and I really like scripting arguments (see above about what dynamics in fiction work for me, lmfao). i just love to hallucinate bickering, apparently. If I have any lines of dialogue that occur to me in any situation, I tend to put them into my notes app on my phone, to revisit later. If I have a scene with a particular purpose, I might look through my dialogue on my phone and try to find a series of quotes that work. Other times the maladaptive daydream for a few days might be the scene, and I'll write down any notes on what I want to happen and let it percolate for a few days before I actually write it. Sometimes pieces of dialogue will come to me before the scene does - Astarion's speech in chapter 7 of pieces happened before any of the rest of the fic, and then I was like "fuck. well. now i've got to get myself there." Mostly, this seems to just be a result of having these people live in my head rent free, but I'm also pretty autistic and so I script conversations a lot in social interactions anyway. .

Dialogue. I think dialogue comes naturally to me (see above comment about autism) and as such, I don't really follow any strict rules, I'm afraid... but these are some things I do formally try to do-

If a person is talking at someone (again, see how much I fucking love writing people bickering), you need to make sure it's not just a wall of text. Adding in paragraph breaks, even if it's a monologue, is kind of essential (speaking as someone who did not do this in the beginning, and it shows, particularly when you're reading my earlier fic on mobile rather than desktop). Often I will break it up with a one sentence interjection, a false start from the other person trying to get a word in edgeways, or a stage direction. I had a problem with one pairing I wrote for where one of the characters just would never speak... I needed to engineer lines for him to say even if it was completely superfluous. Sometimes, now I look at my writing, I feel like these are obviously fake and unnecessary... but they help break up the text and give the reader pauses. So they must be helpful, even if they're kind of just... there. it makes the dialogue a dialogue, with two people involved and reacting to each other. -

Similarly, speeding stuff up can be useful when creating banter, to keep pace and avoid people monologuing at each other. The key ways I tend to speed stuff up is usually a) characters finishing each other's sentences (derogatory or affectionate), b) interrupting each other (you'll notice my repeated 'Astarion-' is often used to get Astarion to just talk quicker and at more length and in more detail until Rose loses her goddamn mind), c) quicker back and forth where you don't need dialogue tags or stage directions bc characteristic voices will make it clear who is speaking. -

I read everything aloud as I post. This is how I proofread. Reading aloud helps me find spelling errors/sentence errors, but it also means that I have to speak all my dialogue aloud to my own wall like a crazy person. If I'm speaking it aloud in a different way, like the phrasing changes subconsciously to what's more natural in my mouth, I will often edit the dialogue to reflect that. I speak it, to see how it is spoken. -

Second to the above point, if you have a character who's voice you struggle with, listen/watch clips of their voice. I do not think I can write Lae'zel (or Gale tbh, and I'm now writing a whole fic from his pov so I clearly hate myself). I watch back clips of them all the time, and then I go to my dialogue, and see if I can hear it in their voice. If I can, I keep it. -

...Be brave enough to tell jokes. I genuinely can't tell you how much I don't think I'm funny. Every joke I write in my fic, I have no idea if anyone else will enjoy it, or if it only makes me laugh. But I put it in there, for me. I'm lucky, bc now some people tell me they found a joke amusing, and I'll know it landed with someone else other than me. But you tell jokes with your friends, presumably, and you're playful with them. So allow your characters to joke with each other, even if you're scared that no one else will 'get it'. If no one else finds it funny, at least the characters are having fun! -

Anyway, those are my main 'tips', I don't know if any of them are helpful!!

My other one main piece of advice is... read. Seriously. Even if the media you want to write for isn't a literary novel, read other people's writing, and I do mean both fic and published books, because published books (if they're good) have an editor. I read a lot of books/webtoons/manga before I ever wrote a fic... like for 12 years or something. I was a big reader, and reading good writing is useful - it's inspiring, it's also just technically helpful. These writing tips might be useless, because lot of what I've done in my own writing I've learned through osmosis - just by reading a fuck tonne of books, good and bad. I'm not saying you have to read 60 books a year or w/e, but read like, a few good books!

(also, just write a bunch. I am only becoming a 'read' fic author on my 11th project??? basically??? so I've had a lot of practice at this point, and grown in confidence. The more things you finish, the more ambitious you get. I couldn't have conceived of Pieces when I was writing my first fanfic, bc I thought plot was my main weakness... now I'm writing an almost entirely original premise and that's bc I've learned a lot since I started writing!)

[phantomram-b00]

So I know I’ve dip my toast or made some post about this theory, I know most have talk about it. But since I’m back, I do want to finally out in more of a cohesive thought surrounding the theory, that you may love, you may hate, it might spook you maybe, let talk about The Coffee Theory.

Look I’m pretty sure we’ve all heard about this theory more so than the kiss itself. But just incase if newer fans of this show stumble about this. Look no forwards as I’ll explain it, basically the Coffee Theory is the theory that surprisingly MatPat haven’t got his hands on where it theorized that Metatron miracle-d/spiked/drugged Aziraphale’s coffee to make the process of taking him to heaven a lot smoother as well as manipulate him further more. Evidence about this theory goes between the almond syrup being small to then metatron saying “hefty amount” as he give it to aziraphale, aziraphale mannerism during that scene to metatron’s shift to being a war hungry voice of god to a simply “innocent” voice of god. I’ll go more in depth with this but this is basically what it is.

Now before if you scroll down to my haunted page, I’ve always stated that I was bipartisan or neutral about this topic. Most because I wanted time to consumed my overall thoughts but also was a bit afraid I might be alone for not liking it. But then seeing most sides and as well as seeing I wasn’t alone at all. But before anything let me make one thing transparent, if you believe in this theory, that’s okay, more power to you and you’re valid. If you don’t like it, you’re also valid. Regardless of what I’ve said, you still valid, that the beauty about discussion everyone have different opinions or theory. so without further or do, let get into this.

Does the coffee theory work?

Let me go in depth of the evidence before I give my overall thought in this question. So let break it down as I do realize just having a paragraph block after block probably doesn’t work so let me just go by number after number.

1. The Almond Syrup

So, this is the defining characteristic when talking about the theory; it was also emphasized within the show about the almond syrup in the last episode. As when Metatron is ordering the coffee, he asked for a small amount of almond syrup. What does raise eyebrows is when metatron then give him the coffee and said “hefty” amount vs the small amount he asked. Which okay to give it the benefit of the doubt, that does raise Red Flags. As in why would Metatron ask for small and then lie to Aziraphale about the amount of better yet, why give him a specific amount of the syrup at all? Because he could’ve just told him that the coffee just had Almond syrup rather than saying the specific amount. And given that he is the voice of God, I don’t think he would ever forget something as simple as that.

Now granted, it could be that the UK does have a different measurement scale than the US/other places. And look, I’m not British nor European. Plus they weren’t specific on how much pump was specifically used. I can say as from my experience from working at a coffee-fast food place, seeing how it seemingly a medium cup, the average would be three pumps with the small being two and the large being four pumps. I’m not sure if UK has the same or different syrup pumps, I’m not going to pretend like I know, so maybe it could very well be hefty for them or small for them. I mean if to give a more leeway, metatron could’ve very well have put more inside the coffee than how it was originally intended. But why? Especially since it seem weird that he never asked Aziraphale what he wanted in his coffee to begin with (remember this. This will be important). Especially since for three pumps, you can very well taste it unless you REALLY wanna get the full taste of it than taste the coffee. (Now look. I fucking hate Coffee, I’m more of a Hot Chocolate person than anything so I could be very wrong but I have tasted it tho). So this is where people think he most likely miracle or put something more in the coffee, spiking it if you will, and now Aziraphale may be naive but he’s not stupid he would most likely notice the coffee isn’t right, he’s an angel after all, he would most likely sense it. So that could make sense for the syrup to mask the taste of it, sound like it could very well be a good cover.

Now another key point as well is that Almond have a religious implication in it. which does hold more weight. Now from what I’ve look, it symbolism is “watchfulness”. In Jeremiah 1:11-12, God/Metatron (either or) asked Jeramiah what he see? He responded with, “Branch of an Almond tree” to which God/Metatron replied with “You have seen correctly, for I am watching to see that my word is fulfilled”. Yeah look biblical symbolism does not make a lick of sense, and I went to two religious school.

“Phantom why bring this up?”

Well, because it might give the syrup a more symbolic effect of the coffee. I mean, if we’re talking about angel and demon, so Gaiman could’ve very well had a symbolic reasoning let alone a religious symbolism. Especially since, with this context, metatron could be using almond as a tactic to remind Aziraphale He’s an Angel and Must fall back in line in an indirect way. Or even to remind Aziraphale, “God is always watchful, so you must come back “home” now as we must do the ineffable plan”. Now this might not be spiking it as it more or less is a threat tactic. Which is true, so the symbolism can be used as a threat against Aziraphale. I mean why else would he make a point to mention Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship, maybe to say “whatever you have must come to the end, she is watching you.” Or more dangerously “I am watching you”. Granted if this does seem going too deep, I don’t blame you, I mean religion let alone the Bible does wild, I mean we’ve seen the Job episode which I swear if that not how all Bible story sound like in the nutshell I don’t know what is because even Job, his wife and his kids was confused af. But I do think this doesn’t seem far off, especially with how this show does have many symbolism. Not all religious based but if this does have symbolic significance, it not so far off.

But at the same time, what make this fall flat is that, even if he covered it, Aziraphale would’ve still sensed that Metatron put a miracle inside the coffee. Especially as he drinks it. And also he doesn’t seem to drink it a lot at least from what we’ve saw, so the miracle wouldn’t have fall through and he would’ve notice it. Like especially since it is implied that Aziraphale does go to the shop way back in episode one of season 2, hence why he know his name “Mr. Fell” so, I think he’d immediately got suspicious seeing that it wasn’t like how Nina normally make her coffee. But also, I feel Nina was already suspicious with Metatron so i think Metatron would’ve played more smarter if trying to not be a walking red flag than he already is. So I think the almond syrup is just convenient and is to make the coffee sweater for Aziraphale especially since he doesn’t even know what he drinks. Is this a stronger point for the theory, I’ll admit it, yes it does, however this point does have gaping holes. Especially since Aziraphale while he does have his moment where he made poor choices (cough cough Season 1 before the fire). But Aziraphale is more clever: he figured out the location of the Antichrist, figure out what "chose your face wisely" was indicating, find clues about Gabriel being in Edinburgh, and so much more. he not one to be fool THAT easily regardless of his final decision at the end of season 2.

2. Aziraphale’s mannerism after the coffee

So, many people pick up on his mannerism after said coffee. Some saying when he’s talking to Crowley during that scene he sounds not like himself. Giddy even about going back to the one place that not only tried to kill him but what negatively impacted him both emotionally and possibly mentally. Most mention the smile Aziraphale gives during the end credits scene. This does link up to the potential of Metatron spiking the coffee to mind control him either temporarily or even permanently as he going to be working as an Supreme Archangel after Gabriel got his happily ever after with Beelzebub. Which might’ve explain why he emphasis how Heaven is the good guys and say how Hell (while unintentionally calling Crowley) the bad guys despite that in 1941 episode they established they both the shades of grey as well as they stop armageddon. Why would Aziraphale still uphold this belief even after saving the world with Crowley? It seemingly does imply that this is out of character for him after all that have happen. So I’ll give it this credit.

However, I’m going to say this, this also fall flat. Why? Because Aziraphale main reason of being giddy, was because he is granted something that he see might fixed heaven’s broke system. While yes, in the beginning he was derailing the conversation by saying “well what about everything here?”, but at the same token, Aziraphale still look at the positive, because one thing about him is that he is an optimistic person to a fault. He can be skeptical or have doubts but he still will focus on the good vs everything that is negative. Not only this, but got the green lit that he can appoint Crowley there. So that both of them combine will fix Heaven from the broken system that was built since The Beginning Of Time.

But like Crowley said “it would be just as dead as if hell ended things on earth”, aziraphale in this situation is not looking at things in an overall bigger picture. He not understanding that Heaven is just as toxic as Hell is. I mean minus the fact they almost died execution style because they wanted the save earth, they fear mongers a lot with Aziraphale. I mean not to bring up Job episode as I felt we’ve all talk about everything in great details, but he did have a breakdown where he let a part of his mask fall as he was scared he will fall just for not “letting Crowley kill the kids”. Also who know if they always mention the book of life. So I don’t doubt Aziraphale saw this one positive opportunity and take it and not understanding fully what is happening. That’s why during that very scene his mask is slipping and even more so after the kiss. He barely had time to even process what is happening (hence why Rob Wilkin describe Aziraphale’s face express as “do it again” and “I am trying to understand what is happening”) because even when metatron goes to collect him; he still is trying to detail by asking about the bookshop and everything. Metatron already have everything figured out, he appointed Muriel, he already place his chess piece and won. Aziraphale realize he made a mistake as he look out at the window he even tries to say so, but can’t.

And then when the second coming is revealed, he takes a look back at Crowley. Mostly to get one last look as Aziraphale knows he won’t come back. Now he has to figure out how to stop this back in Heaven. See, the thing about this is, i do see how people can see the shift; but i see this as a sense that while this is a trap and a threat simultaneously; this was still Aziraphale’s choice to go back to heaven as he want to fix things vs trying to run away with Crowley. (Which I know I said I am proud of Crowley for sticking his ground. I still am. Go speeding demon! However I can’t say Aziraphale’s an asshole for wanting to fix things vs running away. I might go in depth with this). So in a sense, he’s not choosing heaven over Crowley but rather choosing to protect the thing he love and Crowley over his own heart, and especially now he know about this, he now has to figure out how to stop everything from ending on earth. Just on his own.

3. Metatron’s shift from season 1 to 2

Last time we’ve seen Metatron was in episode 4 of season 1. Funny how both metatron only appear once in both seasons. So, I’m not sure if people talked about this; maybe they did, but imma talk about this as this does contribute to both of the evidence. So when we first met him, Aziraphale want to talk things out and see if he can stop it by talking to God, however, Metatron is on board with this project. He want things to end just as much as the other archangel; and want Aziraphale to come back immediately. Here, while he not overtly crass of aggressive, he is very different to his delivery and want him back. And Aziraphale was able to detail him and try to set thing with with Crowley to avoid going back. Sure Azirpahale did accidentally discorporate himself in the process however; he still would rather go back then be apart of the war. Even going as far as possess something, which I’m sorry, that still get me to this day.

And now, Season two, we see Metatron again. And this time, he came baring gifts, aka coffee. Not only that, this time, he have a more gentler approach to Aziraphale. To which Aziraphale saw no qualm. And you know this is relatable as I can be just as naive; not to mention he almost died in 1941 by his nativity. So you know it tracks. But here, we see he not asking to come back into war but to be promoted to Supreme Archangel as a direct parallel to when Beelzebub want to promote Crowley to Duke of Hell. Sure Aziraphale like mention before had qualms with this but Metatron was able to pull some strings. Even going as far as telling Aziraphale he can bring Crowley. And even after everything, he was still while in a hurry was patient with him. Metatron’s display of gentle kindness was what made Aziraphale more likely to accept vs how his tone was back in season 1. I mean he still have it as he gave Crowley the dirtiest look with Crowley’s honestly don’t care after everything and just want to have a nice restaurant date with his partner and finally be able to love each other.

Now, I can say, this one does make sense along with the Almond Syrup as it is interesting with his shift. But but but but but, it fall flat on the technicality that, he still won. He was able to get Aziraphale because Aziraphale himself can’t get out of this even if he tries; sure it was his own choice but he can’t take it back. As mention in the syrup segment, he mention his and Crowley’s relationship, even with his gentle demeanor he was still threatening him to come back. And again, he look at Crowley with the dirtiest look possible, he knew what he was doing when giving him that look. And he was able to get him to the elevator, because he know Aziraphale wouldn’t go by himself especially after the kiss. He was there by his side, for a reason, to make sure he doesn’t run away again. Checkmate if you will for now.

But can it still work?

Okay so even though I gave this the benefit of the doubt and their credit because I do see where people are coming from. No. I don’t think it can still work.

Because as stated, some of the evidence fall flat and have holes. Also, it doesn’t fit Gaiman (and Terry Prackett)’s vision of Good Omens. Sure even though there’s Religious Symbolism with Almonds so that might’ve given the theory more justification and support; however, in terms of writing, this doesn’t nothing. If anything it damage character growth of Aziraphale; now I’ll admit I did give it some hope since I wanted to believe that Aziraphale wasn’t leaving Crowley on his own terms, but after some time and retrospect and during the break; I’m realizing, it truly wouldn’t matter if the coffee was tampered with. Because he still choice this path. He still made that executive decision to leave everything to protect everything he love; even if it mean he won’t be able to see the things he love again. Or in a funny case will have to see Sound of Music-

But also, I feel there a more nuance in depth reason as to why He wanted Aziraphale specifically. Because for all we know, he could’ve very well appointed Michael, Uriel, or any of the other Archangel we’ve seen. So I don’t think he would try to tamper with the coffee to get Aziraphale, there have to be a specific reason why him. I mean why appoint someone that love earth and would most likely refused for the end of the world to happen again. It make no sense at all.

Another thing, the coffee could’ve just been a gift to break down Aziraphale’s guard, I mean most people like gifts and it bring them happiness so him getting Aziraphale’s coffee could be a tactic to show no animosity between them. Even though again, he hesitantly toke the coffee and honestly, I headcanon that he doesn’t like coffee at all. He still toke it and was able to have a peaceful-ish conversation regarding the promotion. Before we jump to one of the most devastating conversation of all time.

So personally, now. I’m no longer neutral, I really don’t like the coffee theory as a whole. I can see the evidence, but that doesn’t matter. But, if you do believe in the theory, tell me all about it, if you agree or disagree with me also tell me about it. Hope you guys like my insane ramble la of this show. Because my gosh, this hyperfixation will be the death of me. But tell me what you guys thing and sure, tell me what other theories you dislike. Now, imma go haunt somewhere else. Have a boo-tastic day.

[insanityofvaas]

2 in 1 uquizzes

Thank you @hotmessteaparty for thinking of me, sending you much love! ❤️

And sorry to everyone that it takes me an age sometimes to get tag games, asks and everything else done. I love you all, but I'm a mess more often than not, let's be real.

I'll be doing both quizzes with my OC Eduardo.

He still needs a bunch of work and quizzes might be a good way to flesh out more details about him. Or just fun. Both good things!

What is your OCs true role in the story?

the antihero ah yes, hello edge lord. it is lovely to see you again. you my dear, are the incarnation of duality, and you might think of claws and venom mixed with grace but alas, nothing near as poetic. you my friend, are mixture of what is seen as right, and what is questioned. you follow the path of your own two feet, you know the twists and turns of life's forests quite well if I do say so myself. and you can meander along them wonderfully. you strive to stay true to a certain sense of principles you might call your code, but whereas in reality, those would be your morals. people tend to see you as strange. sharp edged and glinting you hide behind a cloak of chain mail but really you just prefer to show off your imperfections first. unlike many who scramble to make it as if their flaws never existed, you proudly raise yours up. saying, "this is me, this is the worst of me, now you know what to expect." and might I say, it is quite an intriguing mindset, for truth be told, the ones that love your spikes and craters are the ones who appreciate your softness the most. you wish not to be loved as something lovable, but as a monster. for aren't we all just beasts in human skin? you are brave, but you are lonely. you know quite well how to scare off most, making even the heroes with the boldest bravado creep away with their tails between their legs. you are not a villian, sometimes you play the part a bit too well. but nevertheless you are no hero either. you put yourself first, but if one wins your trust then may the gods have mercy on those who might wrong them. you long to be a poetic mess of sorts, and well, if the ink sets in long enough you might just become that sooner or later. but for one who is so dead set on truth you sure do hide a lot don't you? please, step out of the shadows, there is a difference to not making your flaws visible and to simply acting as if you're the most despicable person in all the realms. it's because you're afraid of attachment is it not? well let me tell you a little secret, everyone is. you say you wish to be left alone for eternity but than why are you craving connection. you wish to be known and understood truly, but you snarl and push the ones that might be trying away. please little wolf, accept you are lovable. you are not some ravenous beast that terrifies the multitudes, sure, you are not for the faint of heart but that does not make you an inkling less perfect as you are. young antihero, step into the sun. you would do better actually reaching for the things you want rather than pining for them in the darkness.

I don't really think he's an edge lord or anything like that. There are definitely things in there that suit him, for sure, so I'm okay with that result!

The "Oh" quiz

the kiss you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

Okay, another result I'm fine with because, again, there are some decent truths in there that I can see fitting him! Mind you, a lot of him not liking to get too close with people romantically is because he's a slut, lol, and the idea of tying himself down to a single person kind of freaks him out. He's still young and wants to have fun!

And there you have it! So, I'll be tagging, with zero pressure: @chocopinda (when you're back, I miss you! <3) @jasonsnowwhitebrody @themadknightuniverse @kidkubrick @ignaciosalamanca @ignaurcio @jacobseedsmalewife @so-cal-douchebag @stacispratt @chaosgoodvibes and anyone else that wants to do it because my attention span is dying.

[lockandkeyblade]

@learninghowtoaceit, @shiho7567 since you both asked so nicely

"Red Hood's comms have just gone down." It's an announcement that has Dick cursing under his breath, even if he's unable to respond to it. He's in the middle of stopping a bank heist, with more than one bullet making holes in the wall behind him. He doesn't have time to answer.

But it never stops spiking his gut with anxiety, whenever Jason's comms go down. There's only one reason they do that- one reason that isn't Jason deliberately turning them off, and Babs is far too good at her job not to note the difference.

Of all times, Jason's Pits had to be acting up. When he couldn't be there for him.

"Sending through last known coordinates."

"I'm enroute." He curses again at Red Robin's acknowledgement; Tim should know better. He's the last person that should be confronting Red Hood when he's in this kind of state, they all know that.

"I will accompany Red Robin." Robin announces, which isn't much better.

"B?" A murmur, before Dick swings into action. There's only ten robbers, only five with guns. He can make this fast.

Really has to make this fast.

"Hm." A vague response, but that's something. Bruce is on his way too, should the worst happen. And unless Arkham decides to enact a mass break out in the next five minutes, Dick will join them soon.

"I have visuals," Babs- Oracle announces. He can just about hear the click of the keyboard beneath her fingers; a feat, considering how good these comms really are. She must be slapping the keyboard if there's enough sound to pick it up. "On fifth, nearest cross street third. Heading south out of Crime Alley."

She inhales sharply.

"He's chasing someone."

"How the hell did one person manage to piss him off that much?" Tim asks. How did someone who wasn't me piss him off that much, is the actual question.

"Language." Batman says briskly.

"Language." Damien tsks.

"I'm over the top of them; he's gaining on this guy pretty fast. Looks like a regular civvie." Which really doesn't mean anything; some people in Crime Alley couldn't afford to look the part of a criminal. "Preparing to intervene."

And that's the last thing Dick hears for two minutes, throwing himself into his own battle with the fervour of a man with absolutely nothing to lose. Nightwing is a ferocious fighter at the best of times (he was the original Robin, he could fight better than he could breathe, some days), but even the security guards look taken aback by the force he puts into dropping each and every robber to the ground, until there's only one man standing by the teller booths, one man conscious.

Dick ignores the tentative thanks he's offered, already striding towards the entry hall. The comms are exploding in his ears, everyone trying to shout over each other, no one being heard.

"Oracle, mute everyone except Red Robin," He orders. Things get a lot quieter; aside from Tim, who's shouting as frantically as he's ever heard him.

"-w am I supposed to know how to get him off?!"

"He's part of your batfam thing, isn't he?! Just hit him with some pepper spray, knock out gas, whatever!" The comms only really pick up things when they're really, really loud- and that voice, that awfully familiar voice. It is loud. Loud and annoyed, and not the slightest bit afraid.

Tim, on the other hand, sounds seconds away from going into hysterics.

"That shit doesn't work on him!"

"Then sneak up on us and knock him out."

"He's hissing at me!"

"Red Robin," Dick manages, after a moment. "Is that Danny?"

"Who is Danny?" Oracle asks.

"You know this guy?!"

"Hey, is that Nightwing? It is Nightwing! Tell him he's a dick!" He can hear Danny grunting in the background, out of breath. "You're a dick, Nightwing!"

Dick doesn't manage to get out of the bank. He laughs so hard, he's pretty sure he's popped out a rib.

dead on main first meeting but it's really awkward

"Danny, where have you been?!" Is the first thing Jazz snaps once she answers her phone. She has a right to snap. This isn't Amity, this is Gotham. A place where the villans weren't just ghosts, where her little brother wasn't just a vigilante. He was trafficking bait. He was an accidental drug mule. He was supposed to be back at the hotel three hours ago. She was allowed to be stressed. Although, she can't help but add to that question. "Do you...have a cat?"

"Hey Jazz," Danny's voice is sheepish, almost entirely eclipsed by the rumbling vibrations that seem to be coming from right next to him, if she was to hazard a guess. "Sorry, I uh- got caught up in something?" "In something." Something still sounds like trouble, but it's not coming with the edge of villain, or worse, police, so she exhales. Allows her shoulders to relax.

Crosses her free arm across her chest, because Danny might not be In Trouble, but he is in so much trouble.

"What kind of something?"

"Well... see, here's the thing." She can hear shifting through the receiver, before the purring stops. Almost immediately, Danny lets out a sharp yelp-- and the purring continues, just as sharp and vibrant as before. "I got a little lost, and next thing I know, uh- I think Red Hood thinks I'm some kind of ecto-plushi?"

They both fall into silence, for several moments. The purring does not stop.

"Red Hood."

"Yeah."

"The crime lord vigilante?"

"Yeup."

"Is using you as a teddy? A ghost teddy?"

"Mhm. It's been like... four hours, I think? He calmed down for a while, but calming down doesn't mean letting me go, apparently." Danny huffs, loudly. Ignoring her absent reprimand for making the phone peak. "Nightwing tried to help for maybe five minutes, but I told him to get lost."

"Why?" "I think he was crying?" Danny mumbles something about photos, but right now, that really isn't important.

Her little brother had been kidnapped off the street. By Red Hood. For cuddles.

"...Huh." Okay, sure.

She can't say this is the weirdest thing to happen to them. Sighing, Jazz strides over to her suitcase, digging through her clothes to pull out the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. "Just send me your location, I'll come get you."

"Thanks Jazz, you're the best."