#semi anti-hero

[shironezuninja]

Oh, Wow. An extra 10 photos has been added to the Instagram 10 Photo count posts. This’ll make Tumblr jealous.

[umbran6]

The Shovel Talk

Ok, I'd seen a small Valgrace post (a bit neutral on the ship, but that's just my take on it) that Hera gives Leo the shovel talk about dating Jason. I'd disagree - it would be Hera giving the shovel talk to whoever chooses to date Leo. I say this because this goddess - Queen of Olympus herself - helped raise Leo as his babysitter for a good chunk of years, and I've talked about how Hera seemingly went out of her way to help Esperanza and Leo during his younger years. If there's any demigod that Hera's likely to be protective about, it would be and should be Leo.

And part of me just thinks that Hera, in divine grandmother/nanny form, is the one that gives great shovel talks — great as in, the threats are great in the magnitude they convey. If a boy or girl decides to date Leo, Hera won't directly threaten them. But she does things like meet them where they live when talking about their relationship with Leo, implies knowing dirty secrets of the love interest's past, and mentions previous myths of how some poor, hapless mortal died a cruel death because they cheated on their spouse. They were not direct threats, but they had clear implications that she could and would ruin them if they broke Leo's heart.

Jason tries to become Leo's boyfriend? In a casual chat, she mentions how she turned against the OG Jason for turning his back on Medea and hopes history doesn't repeat itself. Frank? She mentions how she helped save him from dying and that he wouldn't pay her back by breaking Leo's heart, now would he? She's a bit more lax about the threats if a girl decides to date Leo due to her often seeing wives having horrible husbands, but she still keeps an eye on them like Argus. Or like Roz from Monster's Inc.: Always watching. Always.

I can easily imagine Hera deciding to break out ye olde Abrahamic retaliation if and or when Calypso chooses to break up with Leo if it's not within reasonable terms. A disease that leaves her bedridden for a month, cursing any marriages that she has to never last, her home suddenly collapsing beneath her feet because of a god-fueled earthquake on the day of the breakup.

Things escalate even more once the discussion of marriage is brought up. Of course, as the goddess of marriage, she will be heavily involved in it. Imagine a grandparent-level in-law who could fund the wedding of your dreams. But suppose you do something to harm Leo before or after your wedding. That would not end well. She will personally drag the offending soul into the Fields of Punishment and arrange said eternal damnation to be personally ironic. In-laws who try to ruin the wedding are transformed into peacocks immediately.

What would make it even more funny would be if Hera kept Leo entirely in the blind to her own meddling. Imagine Leo being excited for the first date with someone. He's prepared and slightly nervous because he's still new to everything. In the meantime, his love interest is mentally sweating bullets because Hera's hovering behind Leo like a freaking Stand with ゴゴゴゴ hovering in the background. The boy is oblivious that the Queen of the Gods herself is third-wheeling incognito to make sure nothing funny happens.

[sinestrosmind]

another one of @thescribblings' crimelord but for funsies he has the universal Chief ninpo effect <3

[ridreamir]

May I request a TASM!Peter Parker x Reader fic,??

Feel free to do anything,,, if you're familiar with the Prowler,,, could the reader be a Prowler or smthng,? It's fine if not, I enjoy your work :D

Warnings: I put swearwords :( Oh and slang. Not 100% accurate to the movies mind you...

.

.

ORANGE COUNTY, NY. The last train stop before entering the New York metropolitan area. Geographically? Not far. Enough to be an inconveniencing commute, but quieter, greener. It's that time of the year, when light showers waft in from the warming ocean, the sky patchy and swirling with paint strokes that occasionally break, revealing clear blue skies. Airplanes disappear into those huge blooms of white and storming grey, airliners headed out and disappearing over the Atlantic.

Orange County, NY, was the northernmost entrance into The Big Apple. And for a broke nobody like you? It's not like it's hard to catch a train, after all. In fact, when the tracks pass right through your backyard, it couldn't be easier. This place used to be a factory warehouse, after all.

They're nothing like you see in the movies, though. No huge glass industrial windows and concrete floors. This was, in all actuality, a glorified steel tent in a vaguely rectangular boxy shape. The ceiling leaked onto the gravel floors, and the entire place reeked of mildew, not to mention the draft. Oh, the draft.

But it did its job, and it housed your stuff. As in your hammock, and your backpack, and your sleeping bag... Now that you've thought about it, being low maintenance has its perks.

And stashed in the one good corner of the building was a plastic tote bin. Good for keeping any extras, the kind that'd suck to lose, but wouldn't be impossible to live without. Water-damaged comics, some bottled water, a can of cold, soggy barbecue beans... The backups. The comics really didn't do you any justice. Nor did the papers. No, when entering the Villain's evil lair, usually it looked like you'd imagine in the picture shows. The gorgeous open spaces, the rows of gadgets and gizmos that would cost a fortune! A fortune! To create, let alone maintain. But here you were. Not a villain draped in black. Well, no, your suit had black on it, but that was to keep a low profile. And because who wants to wear neon yellow on a stealth mission? Oh, also, not rich, and did you mention the not-a-villain part? Yeah, no, not necessarily the big scourge of NY. As in vigilante. Nameless. On the prowl, or something like that. You do chump work for free hot dogs and kisses from grannies, or whatever. Or at least you did, before that hot-shot fucker hero of the city SPIDER-MAN swooped in just as you were about to intercept a purse thief and roundhouse kicked you in the stomach! Yeah! Not good for PR! Suddenly all eyes were on fucking you!

The goal was to pop in and pop out, make some cash by emptying some loser petty criminal's pockets, who was maybe probably also strapped for cash but hey, they asked for it! The goal was NOT to end up plastered all over the city in your torn and run-down trench coat 'n ski mask throwing hands with FUCKING SPIDER-MAN.

It might not have been the most morally upstanding business, but when you're sneaking into the back of run-down pizza joints just to take a pat-down bath in decently warm-ish water that came out of fifty-year-old lead pipes, you take what you can get!

And that Spider, Man, fucking SPIDER-MAN, who's oh so loved by the people is a fucking sham! A fraud! How do you know? Because he started out just like you! He wasn't a good guy, not some hero, he was just some guy in a suit who did what he could. The people just looooved that, they ate it right up! But heaven forbid he share the streets with anyone, nooooo, not looking out for the little guys, are we Mr. Big-Shot?!

Thank god you've got a local white boy brainiac to buy you hotdogs and hide you in his apartment for five minutes because by god the cops have been on your ASS.

SO YEAH. Yeah. No apologies from Spider-SHAM. No apologies from them wanted criminal ads either. And definitely no apologies from that fucking comic they wrote where you get your ass beat when you clearly got a good couple fucking punches in! And really, really thank Pete that middle-class Mr. I'm going to NYU after my gap year building geeky science contraptions saw you looking sad, pathetic, and starving in that alleyway you dipped into after getting violently assaulted by ASS-MAN and chased by police dogs. It really sparked an unlikely friendship. Mr. Straight-laced-n-narrow 'n you. And the hotdogs? The 'I've got some spare change, wanna go get a glizzy" hotdogs? They were the best thing that SPIDER-MAN has ever done. Well, indirectly. He's still an ASS. Oh, and Peter? He's a peach. Always fussing over you, letting you talk your shit, definitely normal about your hatred for SPIDER-MAN. Pretty much everyone in all the five boroughs would never let you off the hook for saying some of the shit you say about him! Naw, you've got a compadre in Peter. He pats you on the back and says "Yeah, how awful that guy is- yeeeahh." and hands you some chips along with your hotdog to make it all better.

You almost feel bad for mooching off the guy, but no, he insists. Dunno what you did to deserve such an angel, but SPIDER-MAN, if you're out there, you better telepathically receive this FUCK-YOU.

[designernishiki]

today on tumblr user designernishiki’s autistic-with-a-special-interest-in-psychology deep dives: dissecting the hell out of kiryu/nishiki’s childhoods and kazama’s parenting (or lack thereof) and how it all relates to their emotional development (or lack thereof). they will never be safe from my psychoanalyses

[apocalyptic-dancehall]

SHADOWTRAP

[gayloserboy]

a little thing i decided to write and am forcing you all to see. it's set in a verse with superheroes and superpowers.

it follows a sort of anti-hero named dante. everyone's gay. enjoy!

He stood outside holding a burning cigarette in his hand, taking a drag. He breathed out, watching the smoke mix with his puff of air. He tried not to smoke on the job, but it was a slow night. He watched the roofs beside him as he waited for the cigarette to burn out. He twitched as he heard a noise, dropping his cigarette and grabbing his knife as he spun around and lunged.

“Well hi.” He held his knife right at her throat. He scoffed, taking a step back. He twirled the knife in his hands, before slipping it in his pocket, staring at the other person.

“You made me drop my cigarette.” He frowned, finally breaking the staring contest. Mimic chuckled, glancing down. “I’ll buy you a whole pack. How long you been up here?” He sighed, cracking his knuckles. “Only been out for a few hours. It’s dead as hell.” “You wanna go get a drink?” He glanced up at her, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m working.” She scoffed, bumping his shoulder. “No, you’re brooding on a rooftop waiting to jump into a fight and get your hands dirty.” She grabbed his arm and started pulling. “Yeah, working.” He rolled his eyes, but let her take him. Night was slow anyways.

-

They were sitting in the back booth of Randy’s, a small diner on the corner of 4th street. He took the back seat, watching the door. Force of habit really, he doubted they’d get jumped. No one knew who they were in civilian clothes. No Mimic and no Vigilance.

Their server, Edna, placed down their meal - a fried chicken sandwich and a bacon cheese burger, both with fries.

“You finish your exams yet?” Bella popped a fry in her mouth, leaning back as she shook her head. “Nope, got two tomor-” She glanced down at her phone. “Today.” Dante chuckled, taking a sip of his Coke. “I don’t know how you juggle this and still get Dean’s list.” Bella stuck her tongue out at him. “Not all of us dropped out of college.”

He leaned forward, snatching one of her fries even though he still had his. He ignored her cries of protest, dipping it in his ketchup and tossing it in his mouth. “I didn’t drop out.” He corrected. “Legally, I’m dead. Bottom of the sea and all.” She rolled her eyes.

“Okay Mr. Tax Fraud.” He let out a loud laugh at that, startling the few other patrons. One of the teenagers shot him a glare, which quickly went away when he leveled them with one of his own and flipped them off. Dante turned back to Bella. “Okay, you’ve wined and dined me. What’s up?”

As soon as she opened her mouth and spoke he groaned. “I am not joining your “Hero Team”.” His tone showed how he felt about that. “Dante, you’d be a good addition.” He slumped down, putting his head in his hands. “I should have known this was too good to be true. You have finals!” His voice was muffled in his hands. “They wanted me to double check, okay? Titan was talking about it again.” He scoffed at the name. “God, that guy. Why would I be on a team with a leader I can’t stand?” Bella rolled her eyes at that. “I still don’t know why you hate that guy.” Dante looked up from his hands. “He’s an entitled prick who acts like we all don’t know his dad is the O.G. Titan. Why can’t he just grab another name? Like something that doesn’t scream Titan Jr.” Bella rolled her eyes again, standing up. She threw a twenty on the table. “Okay, I’m done here. You’re being annoying. I’ll see you later.”

He rolled his eyes, saying a “bye.” so she would leave, before finishing his meal. He left another five on the table, standing up. Or going to, before he was thrown back into the booth. He grimaced, glancing up and rolling his eyes as he locked eyes with the highschooler from before.

“Scare your girlfriend off? Can’t imagine she’d want to stay around this for too long.” There was a group of about five of them, and he automatically picked out the best fighters. “Here to give me some pointers, big guy?”

The tallest guy, looking like your stereotypical jock bully with his varsity jacket grinned at him with pearly white teeth. “Something like that.” He probably looked threatening to some nerdy freshman back at high-school, but this was the real world. And Dante also had a knife in his boot. “We were gonna teach you some manners, right guys?” There were some nods as they all tried to look intimidating. It wasn’t working, though Dante was rarely intimidated. Almost never by people, usually by aliens or robots. God, robots. Fucking suckers were hard to kill sometimes.

“Doesn’t sound all too my style, guys. Well if you excuse me, I’m gonna go-” As he went to sit up, he grabbed his empty glass of Coke and lunged, ramming it into the front jock’s head. There were four gasps of shock and one groan of pain as it shattered and the guy stumbled back. Dante got out of the booth as they all stared at him, before the main guy yelled and they all swarmed him. “You’re gonna get it, asshole!”

Dante dodged a punch, ramming his elbow into another guy’s neck. He let his grin turn feral as he heard a choking noise, before slamming his head into the front jock guy’s face, hearing a satisfying crunch. He distantly heard someone calling the police before he kicked some guy in the balls and slammed his head on the table, wiping him out and breaking his nose in the process. He wheezed as one kid got a lucky punch, before giving out one of his own, only a lot harder. He kicked someone’s legs out from under them, grabbing them and throwing them at another one, sending them both crashing down. He glanced at the final two opponents: the front jock with a now broken nose and the guy who got his feelings hurt.

“I don’t think my feelings have been hurt yet.” The main jock ran at him, throwing one of his large meaty fists at Dante. He simply dodged, and kicked him in the balls, watching as he dropped. He looked up at the guy who got his friends to jump him at the beginning. “You’re a fucking freak.” He spat at him, although he was shaking, before running off. Dante sighed, looking down at the first jock right as the police came across the corner. He kicked the guy in the side just for good measure, before running off through the kitchen out back right as the cops burst in. He got on his bike, slipping his helmet on and sped off. Did he really just beat the shit out of a bunch of teenagers? God, at his ripe age at 23? He snickered to himself as he drove off.

-

[radiance1]

The GIW succeeded in passing an under the radar law that described ghosts as non-sentient beings. Leading to the Government cracking down on Amity Park and capturing any ghosts they saw.

Danny saved who he could, telling them not to come back to Amity Park for their own safety. That being said, he couldn't save everyone, not as Phantom and especially not as Fenton.

He didn't like to think on it much.

Thankfully it seemed that Halfas had it a bit better than pure ghosts, being seen as semi-sentient due to their human half. But it still wasn't enough for his parents to think he was safe in Amity, so instead of staying in Amity Park they decided to move him.

Which proved to be a far faster process than they thought it would be, because his identity was leaked to the government, as for how they knew? They overheard Wes Weston trying to convince someone of his theory and ran with it.

So now Danny and Jazz had to be quickly relocated to Gotham, and yes, they love you Danny, but with his track record they need Jazz to act as an assurance he wouldn't go out 'heroing' and stay on the down low.

Jack and Maddie stayed behind to negotiate the Anti-Ecto acts.

Jack told the two of them to meet at this specific coffee shop in Gotham, because he already asked for someone he knew to come and pick them up, which confused them because who would he know in Gotham?

But, on the way to said coffee shop, Danny and Cujo (who Danny brought along because he was not leaving him behind in Amity of all places now.) was kidnapped by a giant crocodile man.

Right under Jazz's nose too. She only realized when she reached said coffee shop, safe to say she wasn't pleased. The coffee shop seemed to be entirely booked by one man, with multiple people acting as 'guards' so to speak, not that Jazz couldn't take care of them but she preferred to avoid violence if she could.

The person she and Danny were supposed to meet turned out to be one Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin, a black sheep of the Fentinightingles and Jack's friend. (I CANNOT for the LIFE of me remember where I saw this idea, but if you ever come across this post know that YOU yes YOU were the one who helped the crafting of this idea)

Oswald: Where's the other one.

Jazz: A giant crocodile kidnapped him.

Oswald: Say what.

Meanwhile Danny got himself comfortable in the sewers of Gotham with Cujo as he stared up at a 9 foot tall man who goes by Killer Croc, who looks increasingly unsure, regretful and sorrowful of his decision to kidnap Danny.

Danny finds out that his actual name is Waylon Jones, and that the sole reason he was kidnapped was because he thought him to be his long-lost dead brother.

Danny: Oh so you're my dead uncle!

Waylon: Say what now-

[pixiatn]

Returning to my old roots of being the CEO of Duke/Danny

Honestly surprised there's not much fics pulling from the Ultimate Enemy Timeline, and I'm talking Abt post semi redeemed Dan, or Danny's friends and fam die but he doesn't go evil just traumatically runs away, id like to see an in the middle concept. Like post him becoming full ghost but pre him becoming Dan.

Now being a full ghost and a powerful one at that, Danny's chaotic destructive ass makes a beeline straight for Gotham due to its raw supernatural energy that he's heard rumors about from peeps in the Ghost zone. And his ass goes there to chomp on weaker/blob ghosts (idk if it was said how Dan got powerful like that so I'm making shit up)

Like usually some people who see him do this are like "omgee, new hero/protector!!" And he just hisses and vanishes, bro has reached cryptid poltergeist status. he doesn't care about saving people cause that's LAME, and he DOESN'T DO THAT ANYMORE, cause it's LAME, but he doesn't admit that deep, deep, DEEP down, there's a flicker of humanity that buzzes with warmth at being recognized as a protector again

Batfam is obviously suspicious of this deeply suspicious and mistrusting ghost guy but Duke has a bit more of an open minded thinking bro is going through a metahuman crisis and wants to help because there's not a lot of open metahumans in Gotham (that aren't evil) and wants to offer some sort of guidance before the intricate web of evil catches him.

So Duke is investigating Danny on his own, trying to learn more about ghosty dude and how he can find him or help him, eventually learning about the GIW and their attempt to enact anti-ecto laws which by association would allow them to experiment ghost/specter powered metahumans. As well as wanting to take them down, he also wants to find out if they have anything about the Ghost boy he's investigating.

While casually breaking into one of their facilities in Gotham, he finds a group of scientists in the middle of beginning some type of ghost dissection on Danny while hes still awake and thrashing, so as one does, Duke proceeds to jump everyone. In the scuffle, Danny gets freed and is about to escape but actually sticks around to start beating everyone's ass with Duke.

Duke guides Danny out of the building and before he can even say anything, Danny hisses and vanishes. Duke sighs at the loss of his investigations victim but finds himself being almost stalked by the ghost. Dried ectoplasm smeared above doorways which only he can see because of his perception of light, electronics being finicky around him, being surrounded by a cold air, and a whole bunch of semi threatening gestures

Unknown to Duke, this is Danny trying to befriend him aggressively due to kinda forgetting how to do it normally

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'll keep you warm (Yandere!Lynx Shifter X GN!Reader)

CW: Intense temperature exposure , Yandere behavior, dub-con, dead dove, imprisonment/abduction

Inspired by @lonelyafacy 's monster suggestion ❤️

Mother Nature was a cruel and indifferent witch, unforgiving towards those foolish enough to tread her wilderness. (Reader) smacked their dying flashlight, becoming numb to the harsh winter cold through their snowsuit.

The weather had turned for the worse, changing from a snowy winter's day into a blizzard that lasted into the night, separating (Reader) from their group. Their lips were stuck together with frozen blood, and their eyes could barley stay open. The snow coming down was deceptively sharp, nicking their cheeks above the slipping scarf and turning their skin into fragile paper.

Although they pushed on, trying to use the stars amongst the flurry of white as their guide, their limbs were losing their feeling, and (Reader) was beginning to wonder if it was worth the battle. The flashlight flickered again as though it could hear their thoughts. (Reader's) knees buckled, causing them to collapse by the base of a tree. They pulled their limbs in under their body, and fell unconscious, incapable of keeping themselves awake through the cold.

Am I dead?

(Reader) smelled something cooking before they realized they felt warmth. They hadn't been anywhere near civilization, so the first semi coherent thought they had was that they had died and this was heaven. Until their muscles began twitching in pain. A large hand pressed (Reader) back into a mound of furs when they forced themselves to move. The hand was warm and strong, even through the blankets (Reader) could feel it.

"Sleep." A gravelly voice commanded.

(Reader) kept their eyes closed, face mostly buried in the cloud like bedding. "Where am I?"

"My home. I found you outside." The unknown man responded while moving around the home, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sleep more. It'll hurt less." His sentences were short and curt, but (Reader) didn't mind. Whoever he was had saved their life, so he couldn't be too bad of a person. (Reader) fell asleep again.

After thirteen hours (Reader) woke up and was able to sit up without pain, still feeling exhausted despite sleeping for such a long time. Their stomach hurt from hunger. "Hello?" They called out for whoever had rescued them.

A giant entered into view, wearing a hood that obscured his face from (Reader). He held out a wooden bowl filled with some kind of stew. "Can you eat?"

(Reader) reached out from the blankets, immediately going into shock when they saw their own naked arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying. You think I'd put you sopping wet in my bed?"

Embarrassed, (Reader) turned red, ashamed for doubting their hero for even a second. They grabbed the bowl, thanking the man quietly.

"The blizzard has gotten worse. Even I can't leave right now. Once the storm has passed I'll point you in the direction you need to go. Until then, stay warm. Heal up."

"...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"That was for the food. Thank you for saving me."

Although he had his back turned to (Reader) they could see him tense under their words. (Reader) assumed he was uncomfortable with their presence, based on how he kept his face hidden. "My name is (Reader)."

"You don't need to know my name." The man's response was almost panicked, growling as he stormed out of the room.

(Reader) was left upset over the fact that they seemed to anger their savior. He must be anti social..

They finished the bowl of stew and waited under the fur blankets, unable to take care of their dish without walking around in the nude. After some time he returned, taking the bowl without a word, his hand seemed huge in comparison to (Reader's).

"Thank you." They smiled up politely, hoping he was looking. The man shuddered again, hurrying away with the bowl. (Reader) cleared their throat. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Your jacket was frozen solid when I found you. It took a few hours just to thaw. Everything is still damp."

"Why were you outside in this weather?"

"I was on my way back from some last minute hunting and gathering."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. Again."

"There is no need to thank me." His body seemed to relax. (Reader) smiled, hoping that this meant they were wearing him down.

"You saved my life. I got separated from my friends and couldn't find my way in the dark. I would have died out there if it wasn't for you." (Reader) spoke as sincerely as they could. "You're my hero."

He took a deep breath. "I have... lived alone for a very long time. No one knows that I am here. I almost... left you, when I found you."

(Reader's) heart grew heavy with guilt. "I promise I won't tell anyone about you." They briefly imagined that under his cloak was a kind of Quasimodo esque being, who risked his identity to save them.

Even without seeing his face the man seemed surprised, turning to (Reader) and staring from under his hood.

"Cain."

(Reader) gave a large toothy grin. "It's nice to meet you, Cain."

They sat together in a strangely comfortable silence, before a gurgle reminded (Reader) that, unfortunately, they were still human. "Do you have a restroom?"

His relaxed demeanor stiffened again. "It is.. down the hall." He quickly handed an oversized shirt to (Reader) before turning his back for privacy, and pointes in the direction of the facilities.

(Reader) threw the shirt on without thinking too much about it, and painfully hopped to the toilet. The building was a cozy little cabin, (Reader) was just now realizing, with pictures hung up on the wall of a family. They wondered if it was Cain's family. But the need to go was stronger than their curiosity.

They collapsed onto the toilet before realizing that there was an odd smell in the bathroom. It wasn't the normal bad stench of a toiletries, but it smelled rotten.

In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, and other than that the restroom seemed to be empty, with nothing that could be causing such a smell standing out to (Reader). (Reader) didn't want to be snoopy, but... They finished hurriedly, praying that Cain couldn't hear them, and picked up the clothing. The clothes were heavy, torn into shreds and soaked in old, dried blood. A chill ran down (Reader's) spine. Cain didn't want anyone to know he was here. He considered leaving me to die to keep that secret.

How far could I make it in just a shirt?

They left the restroom, trying their best to appear normal. The family on the walls taunted them. Did the blood belong to one of them?

Cain sat by the fire, still hiding under his cloak. Next to him was (Reader's) clothes, hung up on the back of a chair. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions. (Reader) sighed, placing a hand on their heart to muffle it's pounding. He still saved me.

(Reader) touched their shirt, feeling the warm dampness and was relieved, because it meant Cain hadn't been lying about that at least. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"Hopefully just the night. It could last up to a week though."

They shivered at the thought. "Do you have a couch I can sleep on? I wouldn't want to take your bed. Again."

"You can take the bed."

"I'm really fine-"

"Take the bed."

(Reader) could feel the adrenaline shoot to the tips of their toes. "O-okay." Although there was a smile on their face, the previous comfort they felt around Cain was dead. They had trusted him so much simply because he rescued them that they had forgotten that Cain was still a stranger.

Cain grabbed (Reader's) wrist as they passed, his hand engulfing their forearm with his inhumanly large mits. The air became heavy, and (Reader) could feel their arm sweating in his strong grasp.

"Your hand smells like blood."

Frightened, (Reader) smacked at Cain with their free hand, knocking his hood back. Although his face looked only a few years older than (Reader) his shaggy hair was a light grey, and atop his head were two pointed ears, pressed back against his scalp. If it weren't for the coloration, (Reader) CO m wouldn't have noticed the ears at all with how flatly they laid against his head. Shocked, he released (Reader's) arm, giving them enough time bolt out the front door, back into the blizzard.

Snowflakes pierced their skin as they ran, and the warmth they had gained in the cabin was gone the moment they left it's protective embrace, robbed by the harsh environment. Barefoot, (Reader) ran in a random direction, not capable of rational thought. With fight, flight, or freeze, they learned in that moment what kind of person they were.

Between the clouds masking the stars and the onslaught of snow, (Reader) was left completely blind. Without any clothes it felt like their muscles were shredding in their legs. (Reader's) legs gave out much more easily than they had the first time.

(Reader) could barely hear Cain's footsteps above the roar of the wind. Through the trees a large grey monster stalked into view, walking on its hind legs like a man, it's terrifying size was more reminiscent of a bear's. It's ears were flattened, and there was an almost human like expression of disappointment on its face.

"What were you thinking, running off into the woods?" It's voice was hoarse, but it was recognizably Cain's.

As he approached his fur receded, shrinking back down into his more human form, still with animal ears, now naked in the snow. He bent over (Reader's) violently shivering form as they crumbled.

"Did you forget that there was a storm?"

(Reader's) eyes stung as they tried to cry. "Please don't kill me." They weakly pleaded.

"Why would I save you, only to kill you later?" His warm breath thawed (Reader's) cheek. "You were unconscious for a long time when I found you. I thought you were dead. Unlike myself, you needed shelter suitable for a human. So I took one. I didn't have time to clean up everything. I needed to bring back everything I had caught to begin preparing a meal for when you awoke and making it comfortable for when I would eventually make you mine, so I was hoping that you would understand. That I killed them for you."

Cain's hot tongue licked (Reader's) cheek, the juxtaposition between the extreme cold and his sudden warmth made their skin feel like it was being torn off. (Reader) gasped out in pain, too cold to scream.

"I really did almost leave you in the snow. Because what if you left? Found out what I was and told the other humans? But look at you... Were you even conscious when you begged me to save you? Or was that your body acting on its own?" Cain got onto his knees, his skin searing (Reader's) flesh. His fingers digging into their shoulders felt like flames dancing across their body. Each touch from Cain burned. It was neither comforting nor pleasant.

"Ah, but now you're nearly frozen, yet again. Do you want me to warm you up?" Everytime Cain shifted his weight above (Reader), they were exposed to the blistering wind. As the parts of them hidden under Cain's body warmed up in his unnatural heat, the more excruciating the exposure to the outside was.

Tears melted (Reader's) fragile eyes. "Please, warm me up, Cain." Their primitive need for survival made (Reader) beg like a pathetic coward.

The loving smile on Cain's face was brief, before his face began shifting, becoming the humanoid monster he was moments earlier. Dwarfing the terrified human, he ran his rough tongue across their cold body, purposely allowing their body to freeze without his touch before warming (Reader) back up. He relished in the needy whimpers escaping (Reader's) lips as they suffered in the deadly temperature. (Reader) grasped at Cain's fur, trying to pull him in to steal his heat.

Clawed paws grabbed (Reader's) thighs, pressing their knees to their head uncomfortably. (Reader's) eyes widened in horror as Cain revealed his cock, resting it across their exposed bottom. They didn't have time to protest before their body was folded into a mating press, no preparation for their tightened hole, no warning to help them relax. Cain pressed his tip to the opening, and snapped his hips into (Reader's), thrusting in his entire member without lubricant.

Cain's dick was already hot, but with the added pain of the sudden insertion it was like being fucked by an iron poker. The scream (Reader) couldn't find earlier now ripped through their throat, the sound of their agony drowned out by the howling wind.

(Reader) pushed Cain away in surprise, but immediately regretted the action when he playfully leaned back, allowing (Reader's) chest to be assaulted by the snow and hail pelting them from all sides. They pulled him back, cringing at how Cain chuckled in their ear.

He fucked them in the snow, pressing deep into their gut painfully, and humiliating (Reader) further by licking away their tears as they sobbed under his body, incapable of pushing him away. Cain could stop at any moment, but the threat of frost bite kept (Reader) latching onto him, begging him not to let go. Their desperate cries only encouraged Cain to continue teasing them, watching with glee as their skin chapped and bled without his touch.

"It hurts..." (Reader) moaned as they pulled him in deeper.

"If you keep whining like that you'll only make me cum faster." Cain threatened, biting (Reader's) neck to hold in a gasp when they tightened around him. Their knees smacked into their temples as his pace sped up, his twitching cock threatening to release deep inside (Reader).

"No! Don't cum inside me!" (Reader) blubbered into the monster's fur.

(Reader) felt a wave of heat blast inside them as Cain pumped his thick load into their raw hole. As they wept loudly Cain continued happily smacking his wet pelvis into his beloved's, just the action of fucking his seed into them turning him on again.

Cain was already planning their futures together, as (Reader) imagined their death. This wouldn't be so bad, fucking (Reader) like this; purposefully keeping them needy so they clung to him like they wanted it.

Maybe one day, (Reader) would love him in the same way as Cain loved them, and would beg Cain to make love to them, but for now, he was content fucking them like a desperate, wild animal.

Blood from the wind burns and from the tearing from rough sex stained the white white under their bodies. Cain turned back into a human so he could kiss (Reader) passionately, taste their mouth salty from their tears.

"Let's go home, (Reader)."

[lord-luminous]

Someone called Bill Cipher and Ford Pines a doomed soulmates pairing and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that.

Being doomed soulmates, to me, always felt intrinsically tragic. One of the few examples I could think off hand are Achilles and Patroclus, two people loved each other so much but they weren't destined for happiness. Greek heroes 99% of the time never are. Soulmates as a trope is defined in someone being destined to end up with their perfect match.

That's why Bill and Ford being doomed soulmates is so utterly fascinating. BillFord is probably the most anti-romantic pairing Gravity Falls (show) could honestly conjure. So much of that pairing is built on manipulation, lies and transaction. Bill is using Ford to get into the a physical realm so he can rule it, while Ford is idly using Bill to learn more things about the unnatural side of the world. So those two being soulmates on any level is going to be anything but healthy. I mean, even in the show, Bill tortures Ford for information.

Furthermore, it can be used in such fascinating theories and AUs. When we read the story as them as explicit doomed soulmates, while pairing information we have from the show and fandom theories you can bring to life fun concepts.

When the show was airing, there was a theory post-ATOTS that Blendin Possesed By Bill had messed with Ford's project to further ruin it than Stan had. Which is why it looked more damaged coupled with the "Blendin was here" with a triangle right there in the episode. So what if it was Bill that ruined the project? That would make the Stan Twins fight and go their separate ways, while this intentionally led Ford right down the path to meet Bill eventually in Gravity Falls. The path that eventually lead to their partnership, Ford being pushed into the portal, 30 years trapped in the Dream Dimension, and later, Bill's defeat.

And that's just one idea I came up for some random fanfiction floating in my brain. The reason I even like that particular concept is that it does more than absolve Stan of wrongdoing, but rather shows you how twisted Bill Cipher could be. There's more you can do with it. Doomed soulmates destined to find each other, and destined to ruin each other. Bill being half the reason Ford was pushed through portal or how he let Ford go insane through fear while Ford being a part of the Cipher Zodiac that could vanquish Bill or using the memory gun on Bill to erase him from existence.

It's so interesting because even if BillFord isn't my ship, you can unpack so much through their dynamic through this lens. Like what makes them click together and what drives them apart.

You guys might have already realized all this, but I just needed to get this off my chest. Finding out more about Bill and Ford's relationship has altered me on a fundamental level. Doomed Soulmates is actually the most appropriate way to define it. How else would you define it?

Thank you for listening to me, a semi-casual fan of Gravity Falls.

[shironezuninja]

Thank you for the Northeastern forecasted, April Snow…to take its revenge on a March scheduled Easter. Yes, I’m still in Bitchy Mode.😈😜

[punkeropercyjackson]

The argument that switfie Hobie shitheads use that 'Hobie should be allowed to have a soft side and you guys are just misogynists who want him to be all edge!!!' gets under my skin.I headcanon Miles as pastel punk and autistic with a special interest in kidcore like me and all my Punkflower posts involving it have gotten 100+ notes with no exception so i know for a fact that none of us think Hobie hates cutesy things or that they're stupid,we think or rather KNOW Hobie hates bigots and corrupted figures and Taylor Swift is both so he has no reason to like her music combined with how we already know his canon taste.But more importantly,they say that if Hobie ISN'T already canonically super soft-No,i'm not joking.He took Gwen in when she was homeless with no trouble and is good enough friends with her that they're comfortable with teasing and him giving her his clothes,he loves babies(Mayday),he's playful with Pavitr and calls him cool and he instantly latched onto Miles as his best friend with tons of encouragement and jokes to make him feel at home with other Spiderpeople and jumped to defend him when Miguel snapped and was openly proud of him when he stood up for himself.He's a complete sweetheart to literally everyone he interacts with who's not an antagonist and killing fascists isn't being an 'anti-hero',it's being an actual fucking hero.Hobie's NOT mean OR gruff and he never fucking has been but people saw a black punk who's semi-masculine and immediately jumped to make him a 'mister steal yo girl' or whatever.As a half white black person,why is Hobie only considered soft when he's associated with whiteness?

[sinestrosmind]

I like breaking @thescribblings' boys <3

[ratwavegamehouse]

Transgender Deathmatch Legend has a few solid facts about your player character (your Face). You're explicitly trans, you're explicitly a wrestler and implicitly you exist in a world that is hostile to you.

Character creation in the original TDL focused on key pick lists to fill in some of your backstory and then pulling cards to create a finisher. Character creation for the sequel builds on that while also adding questions that are intended to guide players towards creating more well rounded, full textured characters.

The ring names you can pick from got an overhaul (basically to keep things fresh for long term fans). The intention of those names is if you grab one from the picklist it's evocative enough you can start to build a whole character around that. If you decide to not pick one and just make your own hopefully the picklist has served as some inspiration. Here's four of the picklists names I think are particurlaly good:

Tiger Masc

“Hot Rod” Trinity

“Flaming” Blu Heatly

“The Consequence” Shelly Theodore 

Dominator 1

The two big picklists then focus on your shoot background and the gimmick you have. Similarly to how you pick a ring name and a gimmick name the character creation in Transgender Deathmatch Legend is reminding you that you are someone who puts on a persona. That persona might be a lot like you, or it might be an escape from parts of yourself. I think this an element where the game reminds you of that a lot and then assumes that someone used to roleplaying games should find something interesting in there.

(There's more explanation on how gimmicks are thought off and an outright blunt question of "how much of your real self is in this gimmick?" in TDL2 to help out people less used to thinking about performance and personas. It's a theme that compels me as someone who's been a wrestler, a comedian, and a teacher; areas where to different extents you're putting on a mask.)

Here's some of the shoot backgrounds:

Started learning the ropes after experiencing a hate crime

Introed to wrestling through an ex-best friend

Wrestling legacy blacksheep

And here's some gimmick starting points:

Flamboyant showboat who frustrates and flusters your opponents

An old-school throwback with a loud personality

A serious shooter with black trunks and black boots and a mean look

A tortured anti-hero who mines pain for pathos 

An in-your-face punk with skills honed in bar room brawls

(These are broad because you can match them up with the implications of the shoot name you've picked or created and that combination brings a gimmick to life)

More open questions in the game include stuff like "Describe your gender, both in the terms you use to yourself and to society." and "Did you realise you were trans before you became a wrestler?" as well as the aeformentioned real self/gimmick question. There's also a picklist for "what people say about you" which is obviously a very different question than what you're actually like. These questions are there to get players thinking about how their characters marginalisation affects how they interact with the world around them.

The drawing cards for a finisher mechanic is back, though expanded this time so there's a unique table for each different fighting style.

At the top of this page you can see that one of the scenarios (Fight Forever) involves doing a mirror image character creation for your rival, before playing out a series of fights through time that defined your relationship. I think the most interesting question there is the open one "Are you trans as well?". Like, this scenario specifically is about fighting/sport as a relationship. I think that question has a lot of repercussions about what that relationship is build on; is it something you have in common and connected over, where you placed together as the only two trans people in a way that feels semi patronising, or is there a tension in that one of you just has significantly more opportunities in the world than their creative partners.

So yeah, that's an overview of character creation. I'll probably do a layout sample of what it'll look like in the book proper sometime. The games launches on the 29th and things have been slower than I'd have liked (I worry that the games content has meant it hasn't been favoured by the algorithms of the world). If you're excited about the game giving the teaser page a pre-save would go a long way to ensuring the launch is successful. There's big exciting things coming for this as a campaign, but to get to any of that I need to hit that initial goal. I'm not down for the count yet.

[alienaiver]

Hello Love, I would love to request a reader with IBS with Bakugo crushing on them

hi my love !!! i hope you'll enjoy this, thank you for sending in a request! <3

warnings: none, fluff + sfw wordcount: 1.3k notes: kept the specific IBS triggers as vague as possible. we all know bakugous a big fan of organizing and planning. impressing you is no less meticulous than his entire career plan. timeskip, semi-early prohero bakugou under best jeanist's agency!

Bakugou prides himself in his cooking, always has. So when Best Jeanist gave him his own department in the agency with various heroes, sidekicks and support under him, he decided he’d build up trust in various ways.

One of them was to cook for his colleagues weekly, gathering them for lunch in the open office at the center of his department floor, only asking them all to provide their own drinks.

It’s popular immediately, everyone gushing over the homemade food by a rising hero like Dynamight. He takes the praise in stride and it motivates him to surpass his own dishes every week. There’s only one issue.

You don’t eat any of it.

It’s not like you choose to be anti-social when this particular lunch break rolls around. You just always bring your own bento box, even if he keeps insisting it’s all free and that he always makes more than needed so that no one needs to hold back.

He makes a variety of dishes; Asian, European, even American styled foods, and whenever he goes directly to your seat to personally present the dishes, you just give him this wide smile that turns his knees into jelly before you say, “that’s so kind of you, Bakugou! Thank you.” before you stab your chopsticks into your own lunch.

It ticks him off, but mostly, it makes him deflate. Of course Bakugou’s not cooking for eight people once a week only to impress you, but it had been part of his 12-step plan to make you fall in love with him. Though he won’t ever admit that he has specific steps set in motion.

First was to get noticed by you in the agency as a whole. Then, to be promoted by Best Jeanist from newly hired sidekick to established hero, and third's to get his own secretary – which you became, because you got along so well by the water cooler. After that was to get this department. A minor step in the right direction was also to get you a new desk that had more space for your trinkets.

His current step, the food, seems to be his Achilles heel. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that you’d have the audacity to be uninterested. You’ve gotten along so well for years now, it’s strange that you don’t even want to taste. He can’t find it in himself to see it as rude, because as earlier established, you dutifully show up and socialize.

He’s in his office, boots on the desk as he contemplates his next move. His food was supposed to have given him an in into your life outside of work, inviting you home to teach you a few cooking tricks, have a nice wine and fluid conversations that’d make you laugh and weak in the knees.

And yet, here he is, dateless.

For a few weeks now he’s been taken peeks at your lunches whenever he passes your desk, but it’s not like anything specific glares at him, like a heavy gluten allergy or lactose intolerance. There’s dairy some days, he’s seen peanuts in your bento, too – and meat. Your diet really doesn’t exude vegetarianism or like you have any other food restrictions. Before weekends, he’s seen you taste the cakes that Himiko, the support secretary, brings with her. But you declined the baked goods he was given once from a rescue mission on a Tuesday. They were both the same type of cake.

Are you just incredibly picky?

He shakes his head and hides his pout in the collar of his suit; he needs to go on patrol soon. He doesn’t have time to think about this all day.

//

A few more grueling weeks of grumbling and groaning over how to make you eat his food, he notices a pattern in your lunches that’s taken him a while to put together. Certain items are never in the bento, like eggs or pineapples.

The other night he ate out with his parents, and his mother loudly talked about her colleague’s stomach issues, not caring that everyone in the restaurant was turning their heads to the conversation; Masaru kept trying to douse her noise level. Not only was the topic sort of awkward when everyone around you is eating (though husband and son were no strangers to such subjects during dinner at the Bakugou household), it’d be a bother if a patron recognized Bakugou.

Of course, Mitsuki paid no heed to anyone else but her family at their table, and explained about the condition she’d just learned about. About certain food triggering reactions even if no official allergy was involved; luckily, the healthcare provided by Mitsuki and Masaru’s company covered some very expensive allergy tests, and she’d then told Mitsuki that she had been diagnosed with IBS.

After being dropped off at his own apartment, he’d sat by his computer and googled IBS, which he learned stands for irritable bowel syndrome. He sucked up all knowledge available on the internet, scientific papers and healthcare provider’s talk about certain diets, testimonials from affected people and watched tons of videos from influencers creating awareness on TikTok. If the bags under his eyes were visible at work the day after, no one commented on it.

//

Now his heartbeat’s through the roof as he puts out the food like usual on the center table, everyone gathering and complimenting him on the smell. His hands are sweaty; more so than normal. He keeps wiping them off on his pants, swallowing excess saliva. In the thermal bag, at the bottom, is a dish specifically made with you in mind. He wonders if you’ll hate it.

You walk in next to Himiko, laughing about a joke she made. You part when you go directly for a seat and Himiko comes up to the make-shift buffet, patting his back in praise.

While everyone is busy filling their plates, Bakugou grabs the last bento box and goes straight to you. He puts it on top of the bento you’re just about to open, “here.”

You freeze for a second, eyes locked on the box. Then you smile up at Bakugou, “that’s so sweet Bakugou, but I brought my own food.”

He almost rolls his eyes before he squats down to lean his arms and head on the table and look up at your eyes. Gently, he says, “it should be safe.”

He hopes his voice doesn't sound as raw as it feels.

The comment takes you back as your eyes are locked onto his. He searches them, drowning in the richness of the color. It’s like he’s at the deep-end of the pool, entranced by a spell, only able to keep himself floating. You raise your brow, “safe?”

He turns away from you with a pout, “I often put pineapple in my curry. And eggs in my bibimbap. This is curry without all the things I’ve noticed you avoid.”

Your eyes travel between the lunch and him, comically back and forth like a cartoon character. “That you’ve noticed I avoid?”

Bakugou blushes; shit. He’d really hoped you wouldn’t catch on to that part. He hides his face in the arms that’s resting on the table edge. “Yeah,” he mutters out, muffled by his hidden face. The silence stretches out, and he’s holding his breath.

After what feels like entirely too long, you let out a small laugh and he hears the lid clicking open. You inhale deeply, and let out a satisfied sigh, “this looks delicious, Bakugou. Did you make it all for me?”

He lifts his head, his eyes still locked to the side. His ears are burning, “mhm,” he nods. You almost coo at him, as you pick up your chopsticks, “this is very kind of you.”

Neither of you notices your colleagues standing around you, various expressions of awe and admiration. You’ve both been the office gossip for some months now.

Bakugou looks at you as soon as you’ve taken the first bite, determined to see your reaction through his embarrassment. Through your chewing you can’t help but smile, stars emerging glittering and shimmering in your eyes as you reach a hand to your cheek, “Bakugou, this is amazing!” you say, taking another mouthful as fast as possible. He loves the way his name sounds when it comes out from your lips; you use it so often it makes him dizzy.

“Can you teach me how to make this? Please?”

Step six completed.

He smirks, “sure. It’s a date.”

check out if my requests are open here ✨