#otherwise it's not just gonna be me but so many others will block too

[evermorebarbie]

Alrighty.

We're gonna have this conversation again since the bots are learning, and we're getting pretty decent usernames from them. So weeding out bots vs. people isn't as simple. Put up an icon and a header and start making content or reblogging. Preferably both. Adding a bio doesn't hurt either.

Bot or not, if I go to a blog of "someone" who followed me and it's blank. You're blocked.

[sunflowercandie]

stop telling me to vote i don't live in your piece of shit country

And I don't live in yours so I don't think I need your opinion 😀😀😀

[formula-nyoom]

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement. 

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat. 

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes. 

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you. 

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day. 

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

 “You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said. 

 “No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

 “What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

 “You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

 “Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked. 

 “Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.  

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

 “Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

 “Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

 “Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality. 

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

 “There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

 “What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

 “I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

 “I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

 “I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

 “Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

 “I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

 “Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said. 

 “Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

 “Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to. 

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

 “It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

 “Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

 “How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

 “Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained. 

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

 “I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

 “I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

 “Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result. 

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

 “That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

 “What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

 “You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation. 

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

 You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

 “Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

[hellsitegenetics]

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banned from BLAST for being too sexy trans supportive forever

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homestuck

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[fleur-bbyy]

I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL

rating: 18+, minors DNI. ageless blogs are blocked.

warnings: sex sex sex, porn!au, no quirks, fake stepcest, fake stuckage, afab reader, reader is described to have a big ass, sex work, only fans mentions, breeding kink, pet names, use of oniichan, daddy kink, lots of porn barely any plot, all characters are aged up to 21+

katsuki is an ass man and no one can convince me otherwise.

part two.

“hey! what’re you doing step-bro?”

you were trying your best to play up the horrible script you were given. especially since you were hungry and had been on this set for five fucking hours already and you’re just now getting to the fucking. after what felt like an eternity of makeup, wardrobe, and pictures taken for the cover you were just ready to put your tits back in your tiny tank top and stop with this corny-ass scenario. stepcest stuckage.

of fucking course.

you were coming up on a year in the porn industry after being scouted from amateur sites and quickly shooting up in popularity as a pro. you were one of the many amateurs who had become pro in the last year and shot up fast in rankings, being dubbed a member of the “golden eight.” you had shot multiple times with six of the other seven, even becoming good friends with most of them and doing side stuff on your onlyfans with the burly red-head that people seem to adore seeing you with. occasionally filming some with the pinkette girl, too.

this was your first time shooting with the last out of the other seven, katsuki bakugo. famously called ‘dynamight’ because of his explosive personality and his ability to give equally as explosive orgasms to men and women both.

“cut! luxe, arch your back more baby. really need’ta see that ass pop.” your director shouted as your coordinator came to position you in a way that pleased him. luxe was your stage name when you were still amateur, and it just always stuck around. nobody in your agency wanted to change your name as luxe was synonymous with the girl that had a ‘fat, peachy ass’ and could ‘squirt buckets.’ you rolled your eyes at the camera that was positioned in the front loading dryer you were “stuck” in. they insisted it’d be best to catch your reactions close up.

“dynamight! you still good back there?” the director shouted once again as the coordinator finished up her work.

“yeah, just hard as a fuckin’ rock and ready to get the fuck on with it.”

“wouldn’t expect any less from you!” you were graciously warned about the blonde’s brash personality, even going as far to meet up with him a time or two before the shoot just so you’d be aware. and boy, were they right. always shouting obscenities and such vulgarity that is made seasoned pornstars blush, but you both seemed to get along due to your shared hatred of corny, half-scripted shoots and directors who think they have the next big video. dynamight was known for being a rough dom. always keen to leaving bruises with how hard he’ll grip the hips of whoever he’s getting down with and extremely fond of hickies. unfortunately for the two of you, he wasn’t allowed to mark you up this time.

you huffed loudly as your director kept going on and on about how great this was gonna be and how amazing it is to have two of the top stars in his video.

“yeah, yeah, fantastic. now can we get on with it? his viagra’s gonna wear off before he gets any action and my pussy will dry up so fast the sahara will be envious.” you half-yelled so you were able to heard from the your confines in the dryer. you heard the blonde behind you laugh, lightly brushing one of his rough hands against the exposed skin on your ass, sending a shiver down your spine and into your aching core.

the camera-man finally started filming and you saw the red light of your camera that was catching your face light up as the director gave the thumbs up. you once again repeated your corny-ass mandatory lines and you finally felt his fingers push your soaked panties to the side. you relaxed a bit, knowing that everything from here was basically free reign for the two of you. only a few more required lines from him.

“look how wet you fuckin’ get from your oniisan. only dirty fuckin’ sluts act like this.” he slapped your under-stimulated clit and gently moved his fingers up and down your soaked cunt. you moaned loudly. genuinely mewls and whines escaped your lips as he kneaded the fat of your famous ass. you couldn’t tell if you were just so needy or if your colleague behind you was just that fucking good.

it didn’t help that he was pretty fucking attractive, either. you were practically swimming in your juices the first time you met. ready to drop your pants and give it to him like you were on the casting couch.

you felt his cockhead circling your tight entrance as you whined for him. big, genuine whines. you had never been so eager to be fucked on camera, something about him enamored you. you felt the smallest little bit of his fat tip slip in your folds, but he stopped there.

“say it.”

“w-what?”

“say it. tell me you’re my little whore. oniichan’s personal slut. just using you to keep my dick wet.” he gripped your hips with his strong hands to keep you from throwing your hips back onto him, not like katsuki would mind. he thinks you’re pretty and sexy and has been waiting so long to sink his dick into your pretty folds. he’s fucked his right fist so many nights to your videos on your onlyfans, loving that you weren’t staged to do anything. that it was just you.

he’s also admitted multiple times on his social media that he is definitely an ass man and practically creamed his pants when he got the call that you were shooting together.

“fuck yes! i’m your whore, oniichan! please please please fuck me!” and with that he roughly slapped your ass and unceremoniously slammed his length into your cunt, resulting in a loud moan from you that could probably be heard from the main audio system. he let a rough growl escape from his throat and smirked when your pussy tightened around him. your walls were so warm and inviting, like his cock was made for you.

“fuck yes, baby. look at you taking your brother so, so good hah slutty pussy suckin’ me right in fuck. you wanted this didn’t you?” his movements were quick, rough, and calculated. the man inside you had turned animalistic as soon as his heavy, aching cock got a kiss of your sweet insides. almost immediately finding that spongy spot inside you that made you feel like you could let go already. he bullied his fat cock into your tight hole like he owned it. like you were his personal fucktoy.

“ohmygod yes… fuck please please please.” you babbled, not having to do much work to play your reactions up for your camera. he genuinely just felt so good, so perfect inside your warm cunt. it’d only been a few moments and you were already drunk off the way he slid in an out of you, fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before.

sweat was already slicking up katsuki’s body and sparse blonde hairs stuck to his now-shiny forehead. the sight of his thick cock disappearing inside the co-worker of his dream’s pussy had him feeling like he could bust his nut already. his ruby red eyes bore into you, watching the way your ass jiggled every time his pelvis met the area where you butt and thighs met. he wished he could see your little fucked-out face. he so desperately wanted to watch as your pretty mouth let out those whiny and desperate moans, just for him.

just for him.

he usually didn’t, but he was definitely watching this video once it’s out, so desperately wanting to know what your sweet face looked like as he fucked you like a feral man.

“atta girl, little minx aren’cha? i bet you got stuck here on purpose just so you could get your step-brother to fuck you senseless.” he fucked into your dripping pussy harder after the director gave the green light, he too looked like he could bust in his jeans just from the sight of two attractive people fucking before him. it filled katsuki’s already full ego even more.

“god yes daddy wanted you s’fuckin’ bad!” daddy. the five letter word replayed in his head over and over again. it filled him with such an animalistic possession to know that you did do some research of your own, how else would you have known he goes crazy over that little name?

“oh fuck, callin’ me daddy now, eh? you filthy fuckin’ girl- oh shit!” he had to throw his head back from the pleasure as you threw your ass back against him, fucking yourself on his cock. your mewls growing louder as you split yourself open on him and he felt your already-tight walls begin to clamp down harder, squeezing his dick just right. he used the hand that wasn’t pushing your thong to the side to reach around and rub circles on your swollen, neglected clit.

“please daddy… i need to cum fuck i need to cum!” you loudly moaned, almost at a pitch similar to screaming. katsuki’s shit-eating smirk only grew louder. the two of you were so engrossed in each other that you both didn’t notice the director yelling cut and the clapperboard being used to signal the end of a take. you didn’t even realize that you had strayed away from your directions.

“c’mon babygirl… cum on this cock fuck! wan’ you to make a mess of your oniichan. keep fuckin’ yourself back on me like that and daddy’ll paint your insides white ngh shit.” the mix of his thick dick, skilled fingers, and word choice making the fire burning in your belly to engulf your body in heat. clear liquid gushing from your pussy and warming katsuki’s pelvis and legs. he looked down just as the last bit of liquid shot out from your spent sex.

“oh god baby, YES,” he groaned deeply and continued thrusting into you, chasing his own release. he used your body ruthlessly, like an animal in desperate heat, “fuck baby… ‘m cummin’ ‘m cummin’ please god let me cum inside please please.”

you’d never heard the rough dom whimper before, but the sound was music to your still-ringing ears. you let out a “yes yes yes” to let him know it was okay to cum inside. with a few more sloppy, rough thrusts, he was spurting his white hot seed inside your perfect pussy. you were both out of breath, sweaty, and fucked out. he still wasn’t fucked out enough and managed to give your ass a few light slaps, still enamored with how it shook and jiggled. you collapsed inside the machine, legs drooping and letting your ass fall once he pulled out. you were trembling and so exhausted you could probably fall asleep inside this uncomfortable-ass dryer. ready to dream about the best dicking you’ve ever had in your goddamn life.

after you both got cleaned up and half-chewed out by the director for going off script and ‘ruining his shoot,’ it was time to finally relax and go home. your bathtub practically screaming your name from home. before that, though, you met katsuki in the stars only lounge.

he wore a muscle tank that showed off his beautiful body that he’d spent years sculpting in the gym and a pair of classic grey sweats that showed off the imprint of his half-chub, you assumed the viagra still hadn’t completely wore off.

“can you believe the fucker had the audacity to say we ruined his shitty video? if anything we made that half-assed shit better.” you could tell he was prideful of his work due to the emphasis he put on his words. you lightly laughed, watching him scroll on his phone to catch up with the world since you both weren’t allowed it for a few hours. you saw his strong hands tracing lazy circles on his thigh.

“we should’ve wrote that script, shown them how it’s really done. we’re the ones that know how to trend on the hub, anyways.” it was his turn to let out a laugh this time. you sat down next to him on the black couch, still eyeing his cock and fingers that you already wanted back inside you. your gawking not going unnoticed by the blonde.

“see somethin’ you like?” he looked at you through his eyelashes and smirked.

“hell yeah,” your eyes traced his body, admiring every curve and detail, “i think it’s quite unfair that you got to see this hot bod and all i got to see was the inside of a dryer.” he gave you an amused look and gestured down to his semi-hard cock.

“whaddya say about round two in my trailer?”

the company ended up using the video the two of you supposedly “ruined,” it was trending in the top ten for a month straight due to its ‘raw intensity’ and ‘believable passion.’

you and katsuki were now in high demand to work with each other, jobs that you never denied. :)

part two.

[captain-pheonix]

Hello. I will call you Phoenix because that sounds very cool and you are cool and I platonically like you and enjoy your works.

Anyways I have come to request an all mercs + Pauling if you’re comfortable and want to write that. (If not maybe just Medic +whoever else you want to write for.) with a reader who has Schizophrenia? I’ve been going through some moments with it and the TF2 mercs are my comfort characters and your blog just feels nice.

If you aren’t comfortable with this feel free to block me or just ignore this ask entirely! Thank you very much!

A/n: GAHHH ILY PLATONICALLY TOO 🫶 ty for sending in a request, I’m so glad you enjoy my works! I try my best! I made sure I did some more extensive reasearch about schizophrenia/the real experience with it before I wrote this, please let me know if I should make some edits! (And other ppl reading this, also don’t be afraid to send an ask about making edits!)

Mercs + Pauling w/ reader w/ Schizophrenia (headcannons)

(Platonic or romantic!)

Pauling:

- will have some guilt about how she works all the time and can’t be there for you

- might send some gifts and call you in between jobs/travel, asking how you’ve been, asking if now was a good time or if you needed a distraction

- as soon as she gets the chance to come see you, she takes it

- asks over and over if you’re okay, because it’s been keeping her anxious on her jobs

- she’ll comfort you with sweet words over the phone if you call her for help

- reminds you to take your meds

Scout:

- absolutely clueless

- buys into stereotypes

- “the voices” type shit

- this guy is gonna need a thorough explanation as to how you feel all the time

- probably asks you how you’re feeling all the time too

- might be a little too quick to do his sneak-attack hugs

- likes hugging you a lot, so that could offer some grounding if you’re having delusions/hallucinations

- words of affirmation 10/10

- expect a lot of words…

- speaking of a lot of words, need an auditory distraction? The scout-o-matic is here! (Only $69.99)

Soldier:

- clueless prick

- thinks you’re some spy or something

- it might take the entirety of the team to convince him otherwise and try to explain it to him with your help

- might also buy into the stereotypes

- if you say you hear or see something that man is going to run around screaming with his shovel trying to chase them off for you (believes they’re real, but only you have magic powers to see them or something)

Medic:

- #1 meds administer

- does not buy into stereotypes, since he may know something about it

- (fw researching you heavy)

- dude is taking notes as you’re straight up not having it

- jk he goes to comfort you if he can after a bit

- you WILL be staying in the infirmary with him (sorry I don’t make the rules)

- will look into techniques to help you

Demo:

- you already know he’s offering alcohol to take the edge off/distract

- you have tried many times to tell him that that will not work

- if you had alcohol with your meds things would not end well

- offers himself as a napping space for being really exhausted (I’d take him up on that)

- he might already be passed out when you go to ask if you two can nap

- might wanna just scootch in there

Heavy:

- will protect you from the bad things (or at least try)

- if someone hurt pookie that’s no good it will not do

- offers protective bear hugs if you need something/somewhere/someone to cuddle up to and be distracted/grounded

Pyro:

- if you’re describing what you see to them, or have in the past, they might try to draw them with good old fashioned crayons and printer paper

- also schizophrenic 😭

- huge empathy from them

- but uhm they might also just straight up not know they’re schizophrenic, so bro could just be like “same”

- alright enough Gen z talk from me (there can never be enough)

- even if just hanging out with them makes you feel more comfortable

Sniper:

- probably feels bad for you

- opts to hang out indoors if hallucinations/delusions are not fun outside

- comforts you when you think you see or hear something

Spy:

- if he’s attempting to be subtle you might expect some noise cancelling headphones and other helpful tools show up at your door

- if you need a break from certain rooms he’s definitely gonna offer his smoking room

- gets you pill organizers for your meds if that’s something you struggle with

- offers lots of gentle comfort

- let’s be honest, this guy was clueless before you started talking to him about it and what it was

- now he just wants to offer help

Engie:

- probably pities you a bit

- gives you that Texan hospitality but may take a bit to understand you better

- will 10/10 make you something if there’s something he can make to help and if it’s possible

- gonna try everything in his power to make your life easier

————————

Hopefully I did okay 😭 ty for sending in your request!!

[cottonlemonade]

hi!! I'm gonna take menu b with strawberry and matcha roll and im gonna sit next to tsuki!😊 thank you!!(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Don’t Call Me That

request: fluffy, jealous crush Tsukki, as manager

Kei set up the net, caught in a conversation he wished he hadn’t started. Hinata was going on and on and on about a new technique he was dying to try, while Yamaguchi thankfully indulged him and asked questions, leaving Kei the opportunity to throw glances at the entrance of the gym.

Originally, he had meant to wait close to the door, just in case you needed help carrying something. He wouldn’t have offered his help readily, of course, but you were usually quick to ask one of the team members to jump in when things got too difficult to balance.

To be honest, he didn’t even know why he bothered. Sure, your smile made him think of a sunrise over a field of wildflowers in late summer - but god, you were annoying. Always bright, always prepared to build up the team with an inspirational speech that rivaled Takeda sensei, always eager to support wherever you could, as if this wasn’t just a stupid club.

The other first years started following you around like puppies after their initial introduction, while Nishinoya and Tanaka were extra protective of their fellow second year. You finally arrived, closely followed by Ennoshita and Narita. For quite some time now, Kei had tried to figure out if Narita was maybe more than a friend to you, but you were probably just being nice, right? He was too bland for you. But an image began building in his mind of the other middle blocker pulling you into an empty classroom, one hand on your plump hip, the other cupping your chubby cheek, leaning down to-

“Tsukki, are you there? You gotta pull the string to-“

“Don‘t call me that!“, Kei snapped at the idiot tangerine, but did as he was told, “How many times do I have to tell you I hate that nickname!“

“Geez, fine, calm down - Suckyshima.“, Hinata mumbled and ran away screaming a second later when Kei threw him a murderous glare.

A moment later the team was called to assemble for a pre-practice pep talk from the coach and Kei was actually much more interested in the way you played with your necklace than paying any attention. For a split second he wondered if it might have been a gift from a boyfriend, Narita or otherwise and his already sour mood turned even darker.

“So, that‘s our goal for today. Tsukishima and Hinata, are you ready to try this block?“, the coach asked and Kei did a double take upon being spoken to directly. Even though he had no idea what had been discussed, he nodded and turned to get started on the warm up when you said, “Good luck, Shoyo-kun! You too, Tsukki-kun!“

Kei froze for a second, then continued walking, feeling his legs beginning to wobble slightly.

“Hey, she called you “Tsukki”, Tsukki.“, Hinata said, catching up to him and bouncing along.

“Sharp as ever.“, Kei muttered.

“Why isn‘t she getting yelled at? You said you were going to make sure my bloodline ends with me if I called you “Tsukki“ again! Why isn‘t she getting threatened!? Hm? Tsukkiiii~“

a/n: Tsukki going for a girl older than him - scandalous! Thank you so much for the request 🌟 I hope you enjoyed it!

[agoldenblackbird]

i'm gonna be a ranty bitch for a minute.

tbh i'm turned off even reading new buddie fic despite being a multishipper and have unfollowed a bunch of buddie accounts because i'm sick of the smug attitudes. one ask that i am otherwise not going to publish or respond to ended with 'sorry you don't understand media literacy bestie :)' fuck off. listen INFANT, i have been writing fanfic and original fic AND watching, reading and analyzing queer media since before you were born, i understand how character and story development works, and i know the difference between 'storyline i personally disliked' and 'bad writing.' this was BOTH, and it also was marketed to us as 'carefully crafted bi rep' and 'queer love story that is not about a bunch of pain and conflict FOR ONCE' so we have every right to be upset at the bait-and-switch.

the fact that i'm seeing the same exact posts - 'bt bones buddie CANON' that i saw three seasons ago after the bucktaylor breakup, or every time they thought buck and taylor MIGHT break up - says something. the fact that so many fans seem genuinely convinced (STILL!) that buddie is inevitable because there have been so many 'signs,' and then they rattle off a convoluted theory that would make the most hardcore taylor swift stan say 'wow, that's a bit of a reach,' honestly weirded me out a little when i first joined the 911 fandom. i have never been in a fandom where so many fans are insistent that their ship will be - not might be or could be, but WILL be - canon. i am skeptical both from past experience with other shows mishandling queer storylines or ship-baiting, and tim minnear's proven track record with this one of not really knowing what to do with buck's LI's. but i didn't want to yuck anybody's yum, so i let them have their theories and squee in peace, and unfollowed or blocked certain tags if i was seeing too much of it and getting annoyed. it's too out there for me, but i'm glad they're having fun!

yet they can't give us the same courtesy. they deride us as delusional for thinking that a canon pairing that was presented to us both in promo and the show itself as different and important (eg the bobby approval convo and 'buck getting off the hamster wheel') might last, and we're stupid to have ever liked tommy or lou or be disappointed at how the breakup was written, and if we point out the biphobia it's just sour grapes.

the bucktommy breakup is not the first time 911 has started out strong with an interesting storyline and fumbled it in the 4th quarter either because the writers got bored or in the name of needless drama/a 'gotcha' sudden twist. amir & bobby, eddie's fight club arc, the sperm donor SL, hen vs councilwoman ortiz, whatever the hell is going on with harry, the whole mess with shannon/kim, just to name a few. and especially the past couple of seasons, for me since 6b, the pacing has been off. they seem to have too much happening at once and many of the storylines don't have enough room to breathe to be narratively satisfying, or they get resolved in ways that feel lackluster.

if the toxic buddie stans who have been attacking lou on sm and sending death threats (wtf!) actually get what they want, which i admit is possible, but it's certainly not guaranteed….i don't know why they think the writers won't fumble that just as badly. it's not going to happen precisely the way they want it to because it is impossible to please everybody, that's what fanfic is for. but at this point i have zero faith that it would even be well done at all, and zero trust in the writers not to just sabotage or regress a character for funsies, and that's an excellent reason to stop watching the show. in most of my other fandoms i regard canon as a jumping-off point or a blurry outline at best, and i can have just as much fun in the 911 sandbox without any further input from canon at all, once i'm less angry.

[mythica0]

Silly messenger

🎂: Epic: The musical

🧁: Hermes

🍫: Poseidon

Summary: After Hermes decided to play a little trick on Poseidon, the god of the seas decides that instead of kicking his ass, he’ll try something a little different.

A/N: this is a sequel to Special Delivery by @amazingmsme ! Read that(and their other amazing fics) first!! Also, I know I’ve said it many times before but I’m saying it again I LOVE HERMES GRAHH. Also, you’ll know why I’m saying this when you get there, but I HC that Hermes likes being tickled and is very open about that. That man does NOT care. Lastly, the last line feels a little dumb but I didn’t know how else to end it so whatever. That all being said, ENJOOOYYYY!

Cw for swearing and some more intense tickles, but that’s it!

Silly messenger

Oh, Hermes was so screwed. He could tell by the mischievous smirk on his uncles face.

Was it worth it? Abso-fucking-lutely. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was still screwed. Royally screwed, even.

Y’see, Hermes was an opportunist(and a trickster) by nature, so when he found out that his pissy, grumpy-pants uncle was ticklish, he just couldn’t help himself!

And now he was about to face consequences.

Poseidon faced the first challenge of trying to get revenge on Hermes. Catching the fucker. He is the good of speed, and therefore ridiculously fast. The exit was blocked, but within the cave Poseidon still had to find a way to get Hermes out of the air and into his mischievous clutches.

“Grr, get your ass down here, feathers!”

“Hahahahaha! And why should I?” Hermes didn’t actually want to get away all that badly. But he wanted to tease his uncle, so he was putting up a fight anyway.

“Because if you do, maybe I’ll go easy on ya.” Poseidon smirked, picking up his trident.

“Yeah, right! I know mercy isn’t exactly your thing, uncle.”

“Well, if you comply, maybe I’ll be swayed otherwise.”

“Hahahahaha! I have absolutely zero belief in that, Poseidon. If you want to get to me, you’ll have to catch me first!”

Poseidon growled. He was expecting that. Didn’t make it any less annoying. So, the hard way it was then. He didn’t even bother trying to chase Hermes, he would get absolutely nowhere, the feathery fucker was far too fast.

Instead, he used his trident to summon the water around the cave to block Hermes in and hopefully get his wings wet so he couldn’t fly.

“Woah there! Smart move, but you’re gonna need to do a little better than that if you want to catch me!” Hermes ended the taunting remark with his signature, shrill giggle.

“Oh really now?”

Hermes pretended not to notice the small little trail of water that was sneaking up behind him. Again, he didn’t actually want to get away, after all.

The wings on his sandals got wet, making it so he had to fly back down or risk falling, landing right in Poseidon’s grasp.

“Got ya”

Hermes was still smiling, on the verge of giggling because of what he knew was about to happen. Poseidon took mental note of this. For later.

The sea god wrapped his arms around his nephew, and then started to wiggle his claws at his sides and ribs. “Really, you’d think you would’ve seen that coming, you getting sloppy?”

“Nohohoho!” Hermes responded, the protest infested with giggles. His hidden eyes were scrunched up from the wide smile across his face as he giggled.

“Hmm. Then what was that about, huh?”

“Yohou’ll sehee! Hehahahahaha!” Hermes laugh was a little less.. annoying.. when he was being tickled. Poseidon was expecting to sacrifice his eardrums to the loud, glass-shattering, infuriating laugh. But surprisingly, while it still held that infuriating, bird-like tone, it was much less high pitched.

He took his claws and scribbled his way under Hermes arms, causing them to clamp down to the younger’s sides as he laughed louder.

“Hehahahahahaha ohoho nohoho!” He called out, his instincts finding it unbearable no matter how much he liked it.

Poseidon noted many things. One of which being, “y’know, I don’t think you’ve asked me to stop once.”

“Hehahahahaha thahahat’d behehehe cohohorrect!”

Poseidon narrowed his eyes with a teasing smirk “so does that mean you don’t want me to stop?”

“Whahahahat doho yohou thihihink!” Despite the situation Hermes was in, he couldn’t help but tease a bit.

“Ha, that’s what I thought. Of course you would enjoy this, you silly messenger.” You’d think that since it was revenge, Poseidon would stop when he found out the other enjoyed it, but he didn’t. It was still revenge, he knew how unbearable the sensation could be, even for someone who liked it. So, he upped the ante, scratching his claws faster and faster against Hermes’ sides and underarms.

Hermes’ loud giggles echoed around the walls of the cave, kicking his feet lightly as Poseidon tickled him ruthlessly(ha, see what I did there?)

“Hehehehehahahaha! Thahahat reheally tihihickles! Hehahahahahaha!”

“Well, that’s the point. I’m tickling you, dumbass.”

Hermes didn’t try to conceal whatsoever how much fun he was having, smiling widely and never once trying to push at Poseidon’s hands or ask him to stop. What can he say, it was fun! Laughing like this was always a blast, no matter what caused it.

Poseidon decided to be a little mean and without any sort of warning, blew a loud raspberry right in the center of Hermes’ stomach. The messenger squealed and giggled louder, resembling his usual, ear-shattering laugh a little closer.

“EEEE! Ahahahahahahahahaha ohoho nohoho! Eehahahahahaa!”

“What? You don’t like raspberries? They’re a pretty tasty fruit, if I do say so myself.” Poseidon teased before doing the same thing again.

“Eehahahahahaha ihihi dihihidnt sahahay thaHAT! EEE!”

“Heh, you are an absolute dork, you know that?”

“Thahahank yohohou!” Hermes giggled out sassily in reply to the teasing remark.

“It wasn’t a compliment, stupid.”

“Ihihit ihihihis toho mehehe!”

“Ugh, shut up and laugh.” Hermes response was cut off by another squeal as Poseidon blew another raspberry, followed by changing the scratching at his underarms to drilling and digging, making Hermes laughter even louder and more hysterical.

“EHEHEHAHAHA! OHOHOHO GOHOHODS! HHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Heh, that’s more like it.” Poseidon finished the taunt with another raspberry, assaulting Hermes’ torso with lingering waves of tingles that made him feel so giddy.

Hermes wings were flapping and he was kicking a bit, trying to expel some of the energy building up within him from the bubbly feeling. It was a lot of fun and he was not afraid to show it, smile splitting his face in half with small happy tears pricking his eyes. Poseidon continued his relentless digging and raspberries, using his facial hair to make it tickle the younger god even more.

“EHEHAHAHAHA POHOHOSEHEIDON!”

“Whaaaaat? I thought you liked this!”

“IHIHI DOHO- BUHUT- EEEHEHEEEE!” His words were cut off with more squealing laughter. It was so intense and unbearable but also so amazing, sending giddy waves of laughter and tingles through his whole body.

As much fun as this was, Hermes laughter was starting to get shrill and high pitched again, so Poseidon stopped in order to spare his ear drums, letting go of Hermes who then stood on the floor, letting out remaining giggles.

“Gods, you’re loud.”

“Ihihi- hehehe.. I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” The smile in his face made it seem like he wasn’t actually sorry, although the latter part of the statement was true.

“Okay, whatever you say.” Poseidon walked back up to his throne and sat down with a dismissive wave.

“Go on, I’m sure you have more deliveries to take care of.”

“That I do! Ta-ta, uncle~ this has been fun!”

Poseidon rolled his eyes with a huff as Hermes left, hiding a small smile.

Maybe Hermes wasn’t so bad.

———THE END————————————————

[arty-holly]

I caught up with the bllk manga and it is a 5 course meal with the way it is serving rn.

Rin's moment came and it is mind blowingly perfect. I could’nt ask for more and there are so many delicious details it's terrific.

The title of this chapter is very interesting to me for reasons. Because Rin as a character is shown to be connected with death and suicide. Infact his 1st character defining line is " Soccer is a battle to the death". Later we find the seed of this thinking in little Rin. He's a weirdo who flings himself at pigeons at toy blocks and a completely opposite mentality to the other kids. The ultimate monster who fights someone stronger, gives his all, and then dies is incredibly cool to him. He hopes to be someone like him in the future . So is it really coincidence if the title of his chapter has a clever wordplay with a famous author who was also suicidal and who wrote a book called " No longer human"?

Now Dazai Osamu was an remarkable author and coincidentally (those who watched Bsd will know) he strived to do double suicides with the women he was in love with. So is it really coincidence that the words that comes out of Isagi’s mouth are " I'll die with you!"? Are you all seeing the romantic connotations here guys?👀

Moving on, just the general remarkable-ness of these recent chapters is blowing my mind.

To see Isagi, the master adapter, arguably the best person in Blue lock who can analyze others to perfection floundering at the anomaly that is Itoshi Rin is so great. This is the first and only time Isagi has been unable to decipher the thought process of another person to this extent. It's gonna make the time when he does get through Rin so much more satisfying. 💚

And its too sad that Rin is so chained in by his feelings that he can't kick a goal his teammates would kill to have because of his own mind( bro needs a therapist fr). It's so baffling to others watching from the outside, but to Rin, it makes perfect sense. It's the way he's almost begging for someone to come, someone to break in and-

The image of Isagi literally swiping away Sae’s phantom, almost reassuring him that he's here, he's real is too beautiful. When Rin is about to lose everything, Isagi is the one who is there. I'm pretty sure Loki would've benched Rin if he threw away a goal again, so Isagi is the reason Rin is still playing in this match. Just the visual framing in this panel is too good.

Do I need to say more?

The way Isagi's eyes look so bright as if he's giving hope to Rin. Rin's EXPRESSION 😭(All we need are some flower petals)

Tell me this isn't poetic beauty, come in my face and tell me this isn't the epitome of romance.

Regardless if it is romantic or platonic, I still adore the way they're written into each other’s arcs. I wasn't the one to notice this, but if Isagi had collided into Rin and Rin had not scored, Isagi would've been red-carded instead of being let off with a yellow card. ( His head was definitely not all there in this moment)Isagi Yoichi, thank your stars your lover is a genius , bro would've been cooked otherwise.

And at the end,

We see the old Rin again, finally enjoying the game he worked his entire life for. (Off topic, but he looks so cute and gorgeous here) and the catalyst for that is none other than our protagonist.

Isagi is the light that brings hope to Rin and Rin is the centre, the ideal for Isagi’s growth. They saved each other.

All of NEL hasn't been exactly amazing but Kaneshiro's writing peaked in these chapters. There is so much said in every panel, so much emotion expressed in each drawing, It's incredible.

[deathxfawn]

alright i'm gonna say it. i know it'll make antis want to find me irl and slash my tires, but i'm going to say it anyway: L/ucien is nothing more than a plot device for Elriel's story.

i'm fully convinced Elriel has been the plan since the beginning. there are too many hints as early as MaF to think otherwise. these have only increased as the books progressed. also, as it's been pointed out, if L/ucien was originally supposed to get with Nesta, who was Elain going to be with? Cassian? lol.

i don't think L/ucien has been relegated to the rank of plot device for the story as a whole. just for Elain and Azriel's story. I fully believe he'll play a huge role in breaking Vassa's curse (perhaps with his spell-cleaving father? what a weird coincidence, if not) and defeating Koschei. but as it stands, he's simply a hurdle in Elain and Azriel's way.

think of it this way: if there was no E/lucien mating bond, what obstacles would Elriel even have? this is a romance novel. the main couple has to have some sort of stumbling block. Feysand and Nessian sure did.

what would Elain's obstacle be? her trauma? of course she still has it. but is it currently keeping her from Azriel? lol no. she would've taken him to her bed in the BC if Rhys hadn't interrupted.

what would Azriel's obstacle be? his insecurities? all it took was a little offer and permission from Elain and he was willing to damn it all to kiss her.

without L/ucien they have no barriers. nobody would care if they got together. there would be no political implications. no stakes. nothing.

"but why make them mates!! isn't that a little drastic??" they cry. umm...no? forbidden romance, star-crossed lovers, etc has been a staple trope in romance for as long as romance has existed. it's not some new crazy idea. and what's one of the biggest reasons for a forbidden romance? one of them is promised to someone else. it's a tale as old as time, really, and i'm not sure why the concept seems so outlandish to some.

i know people say the opposite. that Azriel is the obstacle for Elain and L/ucien, which might be believable if...they had even a single positive interaction with each other. L/ucien would rather live in another country. Elain would rather watch water boil than be in the same room as him. that's not tension, it's indifference.

people can say what they want, believe what they want, theorize all they want. i for one am excited for a little forbidden romance and kicking fate in the nads.

[bringthekaos]

are you gonna keep writing jayvik now that viktor is confirmed straight?

Gunna answer this one diplomatically, even though this ask was clearly sent with malice. Warning for Act 2 spoilers (and possible Act 3 spoilers, since the footage used in the "The Line" music video is most likely from Act 3).

First, when I continue to write Jayvik, it will probably have to be an AU anyway, because I have about 2% confidence that both of them make it out of this show alive.

Second: he is still not confirmed straight. He was depicted taking Sky's hands as she fades away for a second time. This means nothing, romantically. It means he regrets this is happening, he knows it's his fault, and he wishes to bring comfort to her in her last moments.

And that's if it even is her, and not a manifestation of his guilt, given that she doesn't look like herself at all in his hallucinations, or whatever it is. Her eyebrows are thinner in the hallucination, and her hair is wholly different: not as high on her head nor as tightly bundled or curly. This points to a suggestion that this manifestation is his best effort of representing her in his mind, and it is wrong because he didn't know her well at all.

Not to mention, in the very few interactions that they had (before Jayce's Progress Day Speech and when she asked him to walk home together), he was shown just... not receptive. It could have been read as disinterest because he is gay (which obviously many people did), or just that he has a very one-track mind on his research at the time, and isn't even cognizant of the missed social interaction. But either way, there was no foundation for connection, intimate or otherwise, between them. Certainly not enough for the heavy-handed and forced connection depicted in season 2.

THAT SAID, I am a very ship and let ship person. I have certainly fabricated ships from less. Hell, I've shipped characters that never even interacted in canon. And I have no problem with the SkyVik ship, given that his sexuality was never confirmed one way or the other. Honestly, if it had been built up better in the writing, there is potential there! Both of them being from Zaun, and clawing their way into the Academy, which as Jayce said has a success rate of 3%. But it is not groundbreaking or even remotely incorrect to say that this ship is fabricated (and not in a negative sense. It's just fact). There wasn't enough to support it. He brushed her off multiple times. And he only seems to give her the attention after she is dead, which again points to a motivation of guilt: he wishes he'd gotten to know her and her aspirations and dreams before her life was cut short by him. But it's too late.

And lastly, the thing everyone needs to understand is this: Jayce and Viktor were released in League in 2012, and Jayce was specifically built as the mirror to Viktor. It was honestly quite a poetic "formed from the rib" kind of release for Jayce, who came 7 months after Viktor. These two had no canon romantic involvements in that time beyond mere speculation, so naturally they had very queer undertones for almost ten years before Arcane came out. And I don't think it's much of a leap to be disappointed when the producers and distributors of the show decided that they couldn't make their show "too gay" for mainstream audiences. Especially when the pre-established League fanbase consisted of 87% men (source), and a lot of cishet men are threatened/disgusted by/afraid of gay men, yet fetishize lesbian sex. So yeah. The Jayvik shippers get understandably disappointed when their 10-year old ship gets no-homo'd at the finish line.

So to answer your original question. Yeah. I am probably gunna continue to write Jayvik. Yes, even if they're both "confirmed" straight. I will hit them both with the bi hammer. And I will tag my stuff accordingly, and "stay in my lane" so to speak, and everyone is welcome to block me if they don't wanna see it. I'm not gunna go around harassing SkyVik shippers, just as I have never harassed MelJayce shippers. And I'm sure this will be called "misogyny" by many who'd like to assign a moral high ground to their attempts at eradicating the JayVik ship. Trust me, if I could have my ship without disregarding two amazing women, I would do it. But I can't, because someone at the decision making table decided to give two characters who never had any romantic involvements in League the no homo treatment.

And of course, as always, the season is not over. Some of this could change. But my love of the JayVik ship won't. Block me if you don't like it.

For obvious reasons, anon is now off ✌️

[dastardly-imbecile]

Mechanical Butterfly (IV)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

---

Viktor doesn't run from Singed. Silco sees the burgeoning inventor in the young girl he found, after Vander. Collaborations abound!

---

Wordcount: ~3900

Silco has been out far more often, recently, but Jinx doesn’t mind. He keeps the nightmares away, fractionally, his presence, but she’s found something that does exactly the same: the task that Viktor gave her. 

So refreshing! No rules, no admonishment, no telling her, Powder, stop messing around, or Powder, nobody’s ever gonna use anything you build, no, just letting her crawl into the belly of that great mechanical beast and come out victorious with its guts(soot and oil) plastered all over her. 

She loves it. 

What she doesn’t love is the late nights, when it’s too dark to build, and she has to lay awake in her bed and try not to think of the names she won’t allow herself to speak. Try not to flinch, when something explodes out there in the dark-dark night, try not to climb out of her small cot and find someone to run to. Because Sevika started locking her door, after the first time Jinx tried to find her, and normally Silco at least tucks her back in, but now he’s out quashing rebellions or whatever it was that he called it. 

What’s worse is, two days later, when she’s finished with the filter. Technically, the third time she’s done so—the first two, there were tiny, minute things to fix, sockets a millimeter out of alignment or mesh not stretched taut enough, but now it’s genuine perfection and she looks at it and there’s the sound of voices creeping in the edges of her brain, nothing to block them out anymore. 

There’s only one thing to do: which is to track down Sevika currently in the basement, punching at a sack of flour. Looking out at the room, something ugly and slippery flip-flops in her chest, because all the old couches and blankets and shelves have been removed to make room for the woman’s gym—and it’s so unfamiliar that she can hardly believe she used to share it with…

 Jinx stands at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, waiting patiently for her to finish—which she doesn’t for a long, long time.

“Sevika,” she says eventually. The woman throws two more punches before finally turning her way, brow furrowed in a scowl. 

“What?”

“We need to go back.”

“What?”

“To Viktor’s,” she says, “I finished the assignment. He needs to give me more. And I can learn more.”

It’s a well-laid out argument, in her opinion, but Sevika’s face screws up, and she shakes her head. 

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Silco’s paying a damn bucketload for each lesson,” she starts, counting off on her fingers, “Silco’s out, and he can’t approve this, and I’m busy.”

Jinx stares at her for a moment. “But-”

“Take it up with the boss,” she growls, “but it’s gonna be next week.”

With that, she turns back to her bag, leaving Jinx to slowly ascend back up the stairs. There aren’t many others milling about in the space, the ground floor of The Last Drop, but that just gives her more room to appreciate the changes to the room. Most of the old decorations have been taken down, ripped, or otherwise disposed of, and now it’s a vast expanse of stained wood and nothing much else. It’s good, in a way, even if it makes the space wide and darkly unfamiliar, because it means that she can look at the wall and not imagine Claggor standing there, arms crossed, or Vi leaning against one of the ratty bar tables. 

She can’t think of that. 

Upstairs, it would be quieter yet, but she likes the level it’s at down here. Just loud enough to take the edge off her thoughts. Silco has yet to reopen the bar—he has to finish whatever street business it is that he’s working on, first—but some of his group hang around. They spare her no glances, used to her presence, and she doesn’t look at them too long either, afraid that she will see one of their faces, spark a bit of familiarity, be dragged back into the shadowed corners of her mind. 

Warily, she proceeds to the door, tugging on the fringes of her hair as she does. The small braid that peers out from under the rest of the mop barely reaches her shoulder. Vi braided it for her. Abruptly, she snatches her hand away, as if burned. 

Don’t look behind you. 

She doesn’t. Stiffly, she pushes open the door. Still, nobody stops her—seems that most of the group is instead occupied in rifling through the liquor cabinet behind the bar. A spike of fury at that—they’re touching things that aren’t theirs, stealing—but then she remembers that nobody will be around to reprimand them, and her heart skips an uncomfortable, sputtering beat. 

Nobody around, because of her. 

It’s her fault. 

All her fault. 

No!

This is what she needs to go to Viktor’s for—because in those two hours, sitting and learning, it was all calm and clear and nothing but razor-sharp focus upon the gleam of metal upon her lap. 

Deep breath. 

Silco told her, weeks ago, in those early nights when she couldn’t stop crying, deep breath. Never reprimanded her for crying—so different from Mylo’s mocking tone, whenever he found her curled up under the pillows—just told her how to stop. 

She likes that. 

Deep breath, again, and she peers out onto the street. Midday outside, though Zaun sees near-none of that light, and all the neon signs are just as lit as in the dead of night. It’s quieter than usual, too—all the normal market stalls are shuttered and closed, their inhabitants fled into their teeny hidey-holes. 

“Hey,” someone says from behind her, the words slightly slurred, “hey, isn’t that the boss’s kid?”

She whirls around, sees one of the gangly figures behind the bar point at her. 

“Don’t let her leave,” another one cautions, coming around the bar, and in that brief moment that they disappear into the shadows, she sees someone else. Not Vi or Claggor or Mylo or Vander but some homunculus made from all of them, reaching and chasing and there’s smoke in the air and her hands are burnt from the heat of the bomb, and she opens the door and flees into the street. 

As she runs, her hand snakes into her pocket, reaching for the small round ball tucked securely into the depths of the fabric. The last one. 

Footsteps behind her, chasing, but she knows these streets around The Last Drop just as well as she’d know anything, and she ducks into one alley, scales a rusted ladder, jumps from one roof to another before sliding roughly back down a slanted awning, landing roughly on her feet. Her pursuers are drunk, and less agile than her, and not trying all that hard in the first place, so by the time she allows herself a moment of stillness, there’s nothing else. 

She laughs, the sound bright in the open air. Ha! Take that! She’s still got it. 

Now, slower, she progresses down the street. It strikes her that she could just go to Viktor’s herself, but though the idea is tempting on the surface level, there’s a tug in her gut that stops her from navigating to the alleyway shop. Part of it is getting in trouble, of course, but that’s not much, especially because she’s probably already going to be in trouble from fleeing. No, it’s something that almost feels like fear. 

Not of Viktor, of course, because he’s kind, and if he wasn’t then she still thinks that she could take him in a fight, but it’s the other one. The other man, thin and tall and no more physically intimidating than Viktor himself, but she does not like his lab with all the creatures in the jars, does not like his experiments. Does not like the way that Silco carries himself around him: tense, careful, and wary. Whatever sort of person incites that sort of reaction from him, she’s automatically wary of. 

Though she bemoaned Sevika’s chaperoning, the first time, now the prospect of entering that space without her tall, solid presence is more than a bit intimidating. 

So, instead, she continues to wander. This road leads to the main market street, the largest one of them, and—judging from the babble of sound already reaching her ears—one that’s at least somewhat less abandoned than the rest. She’s got no money to her name, but that’s never posed much of a problem before—Ekko was always the best at pilfering from the edges of the stalls, at not getting caught—and, if spotted, at running away swiftly. 

Ekko. Where is he? He didn’t leave her, not like the others, but he’s not where he used to live.

So maybe she can find him! Find him, and Silco will take him in too, and then he’ll ask where the others are. What happened to Benzo. What she did, the bomb and the blood and the screams, and she collapses against one of the grimy walls, clutching at her head. The world spins violently, everything flipping upside down, and she can still hear Vi—she can always hear Vi, it’s just now, she cannot suppress her—and there’s wetness on her cheeks. 

Jinx!

Jinx!

Jinx!

“Jinx?” 

A new voice. It muddles with the ones still pecking at her head, until the speaker repeats himself, “Jinx?”

Familiar. The world clears, somewhat, though it’s blurred now not by her headache but instead by tears, and she peers out from between her fingers. A man on three legs. 

Except, not three legs, she realizes, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, but instead two and a cane. 

“Viktor?”

A simple look upwards confirms it. She knew already, from the tone of his voice and that soft accent, but this is visual confirmation. There he stands, tall and narrow-boned, cane in one hand and leather pouch in the other, packed with things she can’t see. Must’ve come from the market. He looks nervous, out of his element, and looking at him now, she can’t help but agree. 

It’s not exactly that he doesn’t belong in the undercity. He looks Zaunite, no doubt about that, clothes simple and hardy, face set hard, worn. Clear in the way he holds himself, the little mannerisms like holding the bag close, so unlike the free, loose strides of topsiders. No, it’s less that he doesn’t belong in Zaun and more that he doesn’t belong on this street, in the open, away from his lab and looking like any random citizen. 

“Why… ah, are you here?” He asks. Part of that nervousness might actually be related to her, she realizes, and suddenly she’s embarrassed to be here crying on the side of the road. She is no better than she was as Powder, crybaby and weak and runaway. “Are you alright? Lost?”

“No,” she says, “not lost.” The last part of that sentence is the need to clarify—because she’s not lost, no, but also perhaps not alright. 

“Is Sevika..?” He asks, glancing around. The street is fairly empty, and none of the few shrouded figures meandering by are glaring or grunting or cursing, so he’s able to rule that out before Jinx even has to say no.

“I wanted to see you,” she blurts, which wasn’t really the reason she ran out of the lab, but is close enough and really the only thing that’s relevant now. “I finished it.”

But she forgot to bring it! She can picture it now, in her new room on the second floor of The Last Drop, haphazard on the floor and surrounded by scattered tools. Suddenly, she shrinks a bit, afraid that he will accuse her as a liar—but instead, he simply tilts his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. 

“That was quick. I should’ve expected that, though, no?”

Unsure how to respond, she nods wordlessly. He takes a step back, gesturing loosely to the road with his cane. 

“Perhaps you should be getting back. I’m sure your…” For a long moment, he hesitates, and she opens her mouth, Dad resting on the tip of her tongue. It’s so very close, but when she imagines saying it, she imagines Vander as he once was—strong and warm and laughing—and Vander as she recalls him now—laid low, snarling, screaming—and so she can’t bring herself to spill those syllables from her mouth. 

“-I’m sure they’re worried,” Viktor eventually finishes lightly. 

“Can I walk with you?” She asks. 

“Where are you headed?”

“The Last Drop.”

A flicker of surprise in his eyes—he knows the place, of course he does—but he dips his head in a shallow nod. “It’s on the way.”

He doesn’t turn to walk until she pushes fully off the wall, following in his footsteps. As she blinks the last of the tears out of her eyes, she’s glad that he never asked why she was crying. She’s glad she doesn’t have to think about that herself. 

From her vantage point slightly behind, she notices the further unevenness to his gait, beyond even that of the normal limp, showing clear strain trying to balance both his cane and the bag of supplies.

“Do you need help?”

“Hm?”

“I can carry that,” she says, indicating the bag. Eager to be of help—maybe, then, he won’t send her away immediately, and he’ll let her come back to the lab. The instant she thinks that, however, she also remembers the darkness, the sharp smell of alcohol overlaying the faint scent of blood, and the enthusiasm dies just as quickly. 

Still, though, if only to help him. 

“It’s heavy,” he says, but she crosses her arms. 

“I’m used to heavy stuff!”

“...For a bit,” he finally says, twisting to pass the bag over to her. It’s simple leather, lifted by two straps made of the same material, and she grasps it sturdily, heaves it up to her shoulder. There’s a wary look in his eyes, that first moment, like he thinks she’ll fall—or run off with the supplies—but though it’s weighty, she stands straight and smiles and tries not to let any strain show on her face. 

They set off again, and she smiles to see that his stride has returned to normal. The bag bumps against her hip, and she tries her best not to peek, but curiosity wins out in the end—inside, instead of the food and the like she’d been expecting, it’s simply bottles of darkly-labeled chemicals, scraps of metal, and, at the top-

“You can take it,” he says, and she startles, cheeks flushing at being caught in the act. 

“What?”

“The box of tools,” he says, “I bought it for you.”

She blinks at him, uncomprehending. “I have tools.”

“They’re not very good,” he replies, tone nearly teasing. She frowns. 

“Sevika bought them for me.”

“I guessed,” he says drily, and nods again at the bag. “Go ahead. Unless you would rather wait until next week, of course.”

She would very much not rather wait until next week, confusion aside, so she reaches into the bag lightning-quick to withdraw the heavy box at the top of the stack. It’s thin, but weighty, the edges lined in dark metal. Her face splits into a smile at the sight, and all insult from his previous words is struck down upon the realization that these are indeed way better. 

“Thank you! These are…” no words to express it in her brain, so all she can do is look at Viktor and grin and hope it imparts at least a fraction of her happiness. 

“Singed bought me mine,” he says softly. Singed must refer to that man—it’s a jolt of a reminder that they are, in fact, associated. “When I began to tinker. A brilliant mind can only be enhanced by quality implements.” 

The way he parrots the last words makes it clear that it’s a quote—not direct words of his. Still, her mind snags upon that one word, brilliant, and she asks, before she can stop herself, “Am I brilliant?”

“It took me a week to configure my first filter,” he says, “granted, I assisted, but at your age, in two days? You could not be anything but.”

Nobody’s ever called her brilliant before. Impulsively, she rushes forwards, hugs Viktor. He stumbles back a single step, but skids the cane backwards, catching himself—and the other hand hesitantly settles upon her shoulder. He’s thinner than Vi ever was, bones where she had muscle, smells of metal and chemicals instead of leather and clean air. But they’re somewhere in the realm of the same age, and she clutches the box to her chest, and if she closes her eyes and turns her head it’s almost the same. 

The embrace lingers only a moment later before he extracts himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“I’m… very glad you like it,” he says, “but I’m afraid this is where we part.”

Right. On one side, the path splits towards The Last Drop, and the other must no doubt eventually lead to his alleyway. 

“Thank you,” she repeats, quieter this time, sliding his bag off her shoulder and proffering it back up to him. He takes it wordlessly. 

“Next week,” he says, like a promise, and then turns down to continue stepping down the path. She likes that—a promise, because those can’t be broken.

—

So absorbed is she in the new tools, in the memories of the day, turning ‘brilliant’ around in her mind until it’s smooth as a river-worn stone, that when the door to The Last Drop opens, she startles. Sevika doesn’t know a thing about her escapade—must’ve spent the whole day sulking down in the basement—and the few subordinates that saw her escape aren’t breathing a word. Mutual silent agreement: because if they admit she ran away, then they admit they let her run away, so her little secret is tucked away just as safely as the blue gem still shimmering in her pocket. 

Despite all this, when the door below opens, there’s a spike of unfamiliar fear in her heart. It’s Silco, and she confirms that by perching at the top of the stairs, hidden by the bannister, and watching the man stroll in. These past few days, she has always greeted his return by running down, grabbing onto his coat and sticking by his side for the rest of the night, but today, something holds her where she is. 

Below, he looks around, expecting her as well—the confusion on his face is almost funny. 

At least, until he looks up the stairs, and despite her hiding spot, meets her eyes. 

Jinx! Someone says. 

It sounds like all of them. 

She flees back, back into her room, heart suddenly sparked into a quick hammer-beat, but there is nowhere to hide, no lock on the door, and what exactly is she hiding from?

Suddenly, she wishes Viktor had asked her why she was crying, because maybe then she could have told him something, and he’d have comforted her. Vi was always able to comfort her, with soft words, or failing that by gathering her into her arms and squeezing her until she started to laugh, so maybe he’d have been able to do the same, but he’s gone and Vi is Gone, capital G. 

And it’s all her fault. 

Jinx! Someone yells. 

Footsteps on the stairs. She scrambles into bed, because she’s unsure of what else to do, kicks the covers up around her feet until she’s in a half-sitting sort of position. She doesn’t like sleeping alone, doesn’t like the absence of the other kids’ breaths. Misses, even, the occasional kick in the middle of the night, sometimes—usually between Mylo and Vi—leading to a short scrap. It’s penance, sleeping in silence, and she wouldn’t even know if they were in the room because they wouldn’t be kicking or breathing, would they?

JINX! They all scream. 

The door opens. 

“Jinx,” Silco says, stepping fully into the space, “where were you?”

“Up here,” she replies. He crosses over to the bed, sits down. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yes,” she breathes out. 

“I apologize,” he murmurs, “for my absences. Everyone in Zaun wants a piece of the power. It’s like setting rattraps, keeping all the vermin away.”

“Oh,” she says, more a wordless sort of acknowledgement than anything. She wants, so badly, to do what she’s always been doing, these past few weeks, bury her hands in the coat and her head in his chest, let it drown out the world around. When she thinks of doing that now, however, there’s the smell of fire, Vi’s voice, her wide blue eyes aglow with flames. 

“Vander never did a good job of keeping them in line,” he says. The words coincide with a long, low scream that rings through her mind, and she flinches—lowers her head—only barely resists the urge to cover her ears. Vander. Vander. Vander. 

“So it’s that,” he whispers. The blankets bunch as he scoots closer, places a warm hand on her arm, tilts her chin up with the other. When she looks up, it’s into his eyes, one green and the other a pinprick of red. “Are you thinking of them?”

She pushes herself back, further away, panic rushing bright and hot in her veins. 

“I’m not angry, Jinx.” A pause, and when she still doesn’t answer, a peculiar sort of expression flits across his face. “Or would you prefer Powder?”

A blow so strong that it’s as if he’d cuffed her. She flinches back, and he follows, arm snaking up from her hand to the back of her neck, the other settling across her back. 

“No,” she whispers, as he gathers her into his embrace. Not like the hugs of Viktor or Vi—this one is taut and poised on the edge of comfort, and she knows that it would be good if she melted into it, but she does not. “Not Powder.”

“She’s gone,” he hums, his chest thrumming with the motion, “and so are the rest of them. They left you all on your own, did they not?”

She relaxes just a bit more, cheek pressed uncomfortably into the buttons of his coat. When she nods, she knows he can feel it, because he continues. 

“Vander was a coward and a traitor. Your sister ran to the enforcers, ran to her death, rather than stay with you. Did they help you, even before? Vander had money plenty. Did he ever find you a mentor? Someone to cultivate your gift? Or did they degrade you? Leave you behind?”

She nods. In her head, Vi is hugging her, and then she’s throwing her off onto the cold, wet ground, shouting Jinx! Silco’s grip tightens, and the image puffs away in a cloud of reddish smoke, and the voices are mercifully silent. She surrenders herself fully into the embrace, finally lets herself settle against him. This is how it is. This is how it will always be. 

“There’s only us,” he says, hand rubbing circles into her back, “they’ll always leave you, Jinx, and as the ones left behind, we must stick together.”

One final time, she nods. He doesn’t speak again—for a long moment, they remain there, suspended in the silence. 

Eventually, as all things must, they separate. He ushers her under the covers, pulls the sheets to her shoulders, departs with a quiet, “Goodnight.”

Her dreams consist not of the usual—faceless figures circling her, calling her name, flame burning bright in the background—but something new. Silco’s embrace, which morphs into that of a thinner man, the clatter of a cane, which then turns into a child’s, and when she pulls back all she can catch is a shock of white hair and crooked grin.

[marclef]

new About Me post time!!!

hello there! i'm Marclef/Marcus/Marc/whatever you wanna call me, i'm 24 yrs. old, he/him pronouns, and welcome to my blog! here i mainly post fanart as well as dumb things i like, here's a little bit about me!

my biggest interest right now is Pizza Tower, which is probably what most stuff i draw is gonna be, but i may end up doing more in the future! the main tag you can find all of my art here is #my art !

i also do a lot of OC art! the OC i post most about is Eyhm the Cat, who i've been mainly using for Pizza Tower art lately! here's some information/references for her though if you need them!

feel free to draw her (and any other OCs i might post) if you want, i absolutely love seeing other people's art!!

BUT, importantly, here's some important Rules and information you'll need to know while you're here!

i'm proudly and openly Transmasc! 💙💗🤍💗💙 this means you'll probably see me reblogging a lot of silly posts and art i can relate to. if you have a problem with that, i strongly suggest you leave. ANY hate or otherwise offensive speech i see on here will result in an automatic block!

as an adult, i may also sometimes reblog/draw some raunchier content, so if you're younger, please be aware of that! i WILL allow those 17 and younger to follow me, as long as you behave and don't get upset just for the "weirder" things i might post! once again, any misbehaving here will result in a block!

on a similar note.... i will admit that i'm kinda a big Weirdo sometimes. but, if i ever draw/post something that's especially weird, i will make sure to properly warn you about it, so if you still look at it and get weirded out, that's on you!!! please do not leave any rude/weird comments on anything i post or reblog though. likewise, any disrespectful comments on any art here (mine or otherwise) will likely result in a block, so PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL!

i'm still a little shy around new people, but i do like getting messages and talking about my art! feel free to send me asks/messages about stuff, i'll do my best to respond! if i don't, either i don't want to answer, or i'm too nervous to respond right away, but i do see everything that gets sent to me! i might be a bit slow to respond to asks as well, please be patient, but i will try to answer as many of them as i can!

i'm open to art trades, but be aware that i usually only accept if you ask for characters i know! generally this means OCs or characters from stuff mentioned above, i'm more likely to respond if you're somebody i know as well. sorry, i'm still a bit socially anxious, so please don't get upset if i don't respond to you about them!

any other questions you might have though, feel free to ask!

oh, and here's some important links to look at as well!! ⬇⬇⬇

My KO-FI (please feel free to support my art if you like it!!!)

My Artfight

DUMB STUFF I'VE DONE!!! :

Pizza Towerria (Pizza Tower texture pack for Terraria)

Fake Peppino for Don't Starve Together

Monster (short story about Fake Peppino, Peppino, and Eyhm)

other than that, as long as you follow my rules and respect everything, we should be good here! have fun checking out my blog, and feel free to message me with art requests if you'd like! but... HAVE FUN!!! ✨✨✨

[bookie-bookdust]

About this bitch, Bookie

I've been on Tumblr since the dawn of time™️so these little pinned bios are wild to me, BUT:

HELLO THERE:

You can call me Bookie, Bookdust, a simp - I don't care. I am happy to brain rot about many things, but the little demon in my head makes me hyperfixate over Hogwarts Legacy, metalcore/alt/emo music, and writing. Feel free to reach out to me. I like caps lock.

Ravenclaw - INFJ - Gemini sun, Cancer moon, Libra rising - Tired

I'm an ADULT here so I will share NSFW content and I really like to fucking curse. If you're a minor, figure it out and ask your mom if you should stick around idk. That being said, I write a variety of teen to explicit-rated content. A little something for everyone. You should always assume my characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise.

FAN FICTION (the literature🧐):

My most popular work is Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks, which I am genuinely stunned that so many people have enjoyed it. Seriously thank you so much for all the support. It started as something to write when I had writer's block, and now I'm obsessed lololol.

Where you can read my deranged writing:

ao3 - I am most active here. This is also where I post all of my chapter fics and one shots.

Wattpad - I'll post all chapter fics and some of my one shots here. I hate WP, and I don't have the patience for it.

That's it lol. If you find my garbage anywhere else, let me know because then I'd have to go break some legs.

One Shots:

How to Defuse a Ravenclaw - Seb finds himself violating his newest rule - do not think about fucking the Ravenclaw // porn with plot // ao3 - wattpad

Secret for One - In which using some anti-cheating ink reveals what you and Seb were up to (kissing – the answer is kissing) // teen-rated cute and secretly conniving // ao3 - wattpad

Pass the Ring, Not the Potatoes - Seb gets the flu on Christmas Eve, the night he plans to propose, and starts...hallucinating // holiday explicit comedy // ao3

Little Sis - Anne Sallow POV where Dark Seb attempts to use the relic to heal her // Horror // ao3 - wattpad

Other fanfic related content:

Shitty Sebastian headcanons

Shitty Ominis headcanons

Stupid things Sebastian would do to get you to talk to him after a fight

Stupid things Ominis would do to get you talk to him after a fight.

Eventually more will be hereeeeee maybe lol

OTHER STUPID SHIT:

I will always write Sebastian with MC. Not sorry one bit lol.

I do love Ominis though too, but Sebastian just rots my brain.

Poppy is a sweet baby angel who will smack anyone as needed.

I have a tendency to write Anne as semi-antagonistic (swear I don't mean to idk why it keeps happening).

I love the morally gray zone of Dark Magic and how it affects characters.

I don't like Draco Malfoy lol.

WE NEED MORE RAVENCLAW REPRESENTATION!!!!

My female characters are gonna be messy. Always. They don't jog for fun. They have constant bedhead. Poor impulse control. Love to torture themselves. I'm on the complex female character bus, and I will run over all pedestrians.

My main MC does actually have a name. I'll soft launch her eventually with a backstory and a bio. I love her deranged little head.

I'm pretty strict on AI. You do NOT have permission to feed my work into AI. I will curse your entire bloodline if you do. I'm like 5'1" of pure vengeance and fury, trust me.

I don't tolerate rudeness, bullying, misogyny, racism, or homo/transphobia. I will find you and eat your bones if you try shit. (I'll actually just ignore and block you, but you never know). Also fuck JK Rowling lol.

If you read all of this, then you've earned a tiny shard of my soul in thanks, friend. Here's to more delusion and fanfiction.

Thanks for stopping bye! 🥰

[hughiecampbelle]

10k Follower Ship Celebration! ❤️🤍💙

My loves!!!! This is so wild!!! THANK YOU!!! Thank you for supporting me and my silly writing. Thank you for the likes, and reblogs, and especially the comments (it's embarrassing how much I reread them lol). Thank you for being here and loving The Boys/Gen V as much as I do :) I don't want to get too sappy lol, but writing has been the one constant in my life since I started this blog. It's gotten me through the worst times in my life and I know, no matter what, I can always come back to it regardless of how long it's been and find so many of my friends like no time has passed!!! I want to show my love by opening up ships again, but this time they're gonna be a little different (in a good way!!!) Please be sure to read the rules and remember all requests are open!!! Xoxoxo❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

RULES:

Only one ship per person - I wanna make sure it’s fair for everyone and that I have time for everyone :)

These ships are only for the The Boys and Gen V fandom!- It’s what I feel inspire to write right now, so any other fandoms will not be written for with these ships!

Specify! - Please specify which fandom you'd want to be paired with, gender you'd want to be paired with, and, if it is an issue, who you don't want to be shipped with (ex: I'd love a ship from Gen V, for any character, just not Cate Dunlap)

Please be kind! - I am one person who is doing this to show my love and appreciation for the fandom as well as the people who are constantly supporting my silly writing. Please remember to be kind when requesting and please try not to make demands, if that makes sense? I love doing ships, but sometimes the attitudes around them can turn something fun into something discouraging and quickly lead to burnout

SHIPS ARE OPEN: August 24th -> October 16th

ANYTHING SENT AFTER WILL BE DELETED UNLESS SPECIFIED OTHERWISE!

WHAT TO INCLUDE:

The most important thing would be to include what gender/s you’d want to be shipped with and if you want The Boys, The Seven, Gen V or either/no preference to be paired with! I wouldn’t want to ship anyone with a character they’re personally uncomfortable with :) I will 100% respect your request!

Because these are going to be aesthetics, I think the most important things to include are what you look like, your personal style, personality, type of people you typically like/date, favorite things about yourself, interests, hobbies, favorite books, movies, bands, animals, harry potter house, favorite places, dream jobs/homes/lifestyle/future, pet peeves, etc. Basically anything that you find unique to you! Things that can't really be put into aesthetics are things like mental health issues, etc. so please try to limit that kind of information.

WHAT WILL IT INCLUDE:

Because these ships are going to be different from the last ones, I want to keep it a surprise, but just know it'll include an aesthetic of your relationship and maybe even a little blurb of writing!

PLEASE REMEMBER:

I’ve done this before under the #johnnyshellby-ships / #jammesbarnnes-ships / #kaitbishop-ships (my old urls) so I’m gonna tag this #hughiecampbelle10k-ships in case you’d want to block it for any reason!

I’ll try to get to these asap and they’ll be posted between other posts and requests, but please understand I am one person so they might take some time! Xoxoxo❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙