#them even when its hard even after everything that happened

[nightingale-prompts]

Do NOT Touch a God- DC x DP Prompt (Tim x Danny)

Correction: don't touch Danny.

A rule has been added to the house rules of Titans Tower. It started after the arrival of the summoning of the interdimensional teen that takes residence there.

Despite being only a teenager the power he held was at the level of a god. He causally reshaped reality around him to his liking. Rooms are made bigger on the inside but remain the same outside. Danny's hate for things getting too dirty made all clothes left on the floor for too long disappear into the laundry room and spilled drinks evaporate. The tower became self-cleaning as everything found its place on its own. Danny said it was just what he prefers, lab safety and all that. Sometimes Danny would turn off gravity, no reason be just likes it like that.

Unfortunately, he doesn't go on missions except for extreme situations where he is needed. He is content to spend his time in the med bay as the resident healer. He is also one of the few that can fix up Cyborg. Danny doesn't get involved unnecessarily. This has led to a few arguments in the past over how unhelpful he can be despite being able to help them. Danny shrugs it off and disappears when it happens. It was not fair on him, if he didn't want to fight he shouldn't have to. He was an asset and he offered his help freely.

So why does the No Touch rule exist? Well, Danny doesn't like touching people. He wears gloves for a reason especially when he is working in the bay fixing up everyone after a mission. He also avoids others touching him, shrinking away when someone tried.

Everyone respected that boundary but after a rough mission in particular Kon started an argument with him. The injuries were severe and he was just mad that M'gann was hurt. Danny was already overwhelmed with healing everyone and Kon seemed to strike a nerve. When Kon almost made contact with him Danny flickered out of existence and reappeared further away.

After several hours of fixing broken bones and open wounds Danny retreated.

Tim decided to check on him later. Kon was sorry for overreacting and blaming Danny for something he couldn't control but Danny probably didn't want to see him right now.

Danny looked worse for wear when he opened the door. He looked tired, weary from using his energy. He wrapped a blanket around himself.

They talked for a while. Mostly about nothing important, other times about how stressful things were right now.

Tim often found it hard to believe that Danny wasn't just a normal teen. Then again, what did he know about normal?

But he had wondered something.

He reached out and tried to hold Danny's hand but Danny moved away quickly noticing.

"You shouldn't do that." He said simply.

Had he been Dick he would repect the boundaries and if he was Jason he'd probably agree. But he was Tim and Tim was very bad at boundaries. That's kind of how he got here.

"Why not?" Tim asked.

"It might be too much," Danny said cautiously eyeing Tim who held his hands up.

"Try me."

Danny sighed and removed one of his gloves and touched his hand to Tim's shoulder.

All at once different sensations filled his senses. A comforting touch of a friend, a light fluttering of a passing stranger on the street, a strike of a hated rival, the steady hand of a family member, the playful tap of a classmate, the caress of a lover...all at once. Each feeling is defined but also blurred. It was almost like being pulled in thousands of directions as they tried to claim a part of Tim into their reality.

A single touch sent him into a trace. When Danny pulled away he expected to have broken Tim like how a child accidentally snaps their toys when playing. He knew his touch could overwhelm people almost to death. Clockwork said he'd be able to control it some day but Danny didn't even want to test it. Being able to fracture someone's mind was scary. Seeing it happen once was enough. So why did he try it on Tim? Did he not care what happened to him?

It's a bit selfish and embarrassing to admit but...not being able to touch another person was awful. He's not clingy but it feels like he has lacked sensation for a long time. Tim willingly asked for this and Danny wanted this as well.

Tim wasn't broken. Infact he had never felt more alive. When Danny removed his hand he found himself pulling it back to him. He couldn't explain it but it felt like...everything. Indescribable but amazing. It was contradictory but all of it made sense.

"Do it again!"

Things kind of escalated from there. It would probably be crass to even say it but let's just say that neither was lacking sensation. It was profound, not purely physical nor emotional, something else entirely. The religious sort would call it divine or a blessing, perhaps it was what heaven feels like. Others would call it sinful, partaking in things no human was meant to know or experience. The folly of humanity.

It was certainly addictive though. Whispered words echoed in every tongue. With every contact a new chorus created. The memories of long dead god flashed and worlds yet unawakened showed themselves. And just when it seemed like everything in the universe had collided and finally made sense...it was over.

There was a knock on the door.

Danny managed to roll the breathless, Tim off with a groan. He stretched feeling a bit locked up. He had been holding each other for a while now.

He opened the door and saw Kon standing there nervously.

"Look, Im sorr-"

"Danny?" Tim called out groggily interrupting whatever Kon was saying.

"I'm busy," Danny said quickly closing the door to go back to...you know.

(So were they having sex or just cuddling? I have no fucking idea and I wrote this. I feel like it's a secret third that is somehow worse.)

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2897

Warnings: body image issues. Quite detailed too, so be careful and look out for yourselves.

Summary: After you tear your acl, your mental health takes quite a severe hit. [Requested]

Notes: one more draft to go after this, then we is done for a little while

It was no secret that Alexia was the epitome of fitness. Every muscle seemed to have its place on her body, sculpted from years of dedication on the field and in the gym. She was renowned for her strength and endurance, and her intense daily workouts left her with abs sharp enough to carve ice. Her legs were powerful, capable of sprinting up and down the pitch for ninety minutes straight, and when she wrapped them around you, every single coherent though you had immediately leaves your mind. It was impossible not to admire her—no, to adore her for it. She didn't just look incredible; she carried herself with a natural grace, a quiet confidence that made her strength seem even more alluring.

She was up before the crack of dawn every morning, lacing up her trainers and stretching quietly in the hallway while you mumbled sleepy protests from bed. And she'd just smile, soft and affectionate, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading out. Sometimes, she'd even sneak a second workout into her day, returning to the gym after training if she was feeling restless. It was her way of clearing her mind, finding her center amidst the stresses of her intense schedule. Her body was her temple, her mind, a fortress—and she was diligent in caring for both.

You were in good shape, too, of course. It was a necessity as a professional footballer, but you didn't feel the same love for exercise as Alexia did. To her, fitness was a passion; to you, it was a means to an end. You'd lace up for runs, lift weights, and do the drills, but it was all about maintaining strength for the game, not about striving for the chiseled perfection that Alexia seemed to attain effortlessly. You had some definition—your muscles were toned in places, and you were proud of the fitness you had. But you didn't have a six-pack, or the rock-hard thighs and sculpted arms that Alexia did. There was softness to your body, a gentle curve that felt miles away from the physique she held herself to.

You'd grown to accept that, too. Sure, some days, you'd catch a glimpse of Alexia in her workout gear, fresh from a morning session, muscles rippling under her taut skin, and you'd feel a pang of envy. But it wasn't enough to change how you viewed yourself. You might not have the carved-out, intensely toned build that she had, but your body was yours, and that was enough. You nourished it, rested it, treated it well. Alexia adored you for who you were, and she'd always made it abundantly clear that you didn't need to change a thing. So, you held onto that, content in the comfort of her steady admiration and your own quiet acceptance.

And then it happened.

*

Tearing your ACL was more than a setback. It was a wrench thrown into everything you knew about yourself, your career, and your confidence. The physical pain was intense, yes, but the mental toll? That was a different beast altogether. The moment the diagnosis came, you were handed a new path, one that demanded you start over, essentially relearning how to walk, run, and move in ways that had once come effortlessly.

Your recovery plan was strict. "Get stronger," the physical therapist had told you. "Anything you can do to support that knee." The aim was to build strength before agility, to make sure that when you eventually stepped back onto the field, your knee would hold up. And to build that strength, you needed more muscle.

So you followed the program. A different nutrition plan meant eating more, much more than you were used to. It was a meticulous routine of high-protein meals and heavier weights, adjusting your body to a new rhythm. The change in your body was immediate and striking. Muscle mass took time, but the weight gain didn't wait for anyone. It wasn't just muscle; some of it was fat, too. Your once lean and toned frame grew softer, more solid, and the athletic lines you'd been so familiar with blurred into something different. Every time you caught yourself in the mirror, the difference seemed glaring.

You tried to remind yourself that it was part of the plan, and in some ways, it was working. The muscle you gained gave you the stability you needed in your knee, and as you got stronger, so did your confidence in moving. But it was a far cry from what you were used to, and the internet, naturally, had a field day with it. Photos started surfacing, snapshots of you out and about or in training, and the comments came fast and merciless. Every little flaw was picked apart: a fold in your chin, the curve of your waist, the size of your thighs. Strangers felt entitled to judge you, to dissect every inch of your body in ways that left you reeling.

It got to you. How could it not? The comments slipped into your thoughts, lingering like a shadow every time you ate, trained, or even looked at yourself in the mirror. Even the smallest gestures became tainted by this newfound self-consciousness. In the shower, you'd notice the places that felt softer. In the gym, you'd feel acutely aware of the way your body didn't look like it used to. And it followed you home, creeping into the space you shared with Alexia, a place that had once felt like a sanctuary.

Alexia, in her usual affectionate way, was none the wiser. She treated you exactly the same, her hands roaming freely over your body with the same warmth and adoration she'd always shown. But every time she touched your waist, your stomach, or the soft flesh of your thighs, you'd feel a pang, a quiet discomfort that you tried desperately to ignore. You told yourself it was silly, that she hadn't even noticed the change. But each time her hands grazed over the parts of you that felt different, the ones the internet was so quick to call out, you couldn't help but brace, almost flinch.

When Alexia would lie beside you on the sofa, her head resting on your thighs, the weight of her presence suddenly felt heavy, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You'd struggle to enjoy the moment, fighting the urge to shift away, to hide. Or when she'd wrap her arms around you from behind, resting her head against your shoulder, and you'd feel her fingers press softly into your stomach, all you could think of was whether she felt the difference. If she noticed the extra softness there.

Then, there were the times she wanted to be closer, when her hands wandered a bit further, her gaze lingering with the kind of adoration that used to set you at ease. But now, each brush of her fingertips over your skin, every glance that she stole felt like a magnifying glass on every insecurity you'd grown to harbor. It was as if the comments you'd read online were imprinted on you, and every time Alexia's touch lingered, they echoed in your mind.

You tried to bury it, to keep your discomfort hidden beneath the surface. Alexia never let on that she'd noticed anything different; if she did, she was remarkably patient, waiting for you to open up. But you couldn't bring yourself to admit the insecurity gnawing at you. She didn't seem to mind, so why should you make her aware of something that, to her, didn't exist? So, you hid it, smiled through the lingering self-doubt, and tried to keep up appearances.

But it was exhausting, living in constant vigilance, battling an inner voice that refused to quiet. And as much as you wanted to shake it, to silence the nagging insecurities, they lingered, shadowing your every thought.

*

Alexia's gaze was intense as she leaned over you, her body pressed to yours, the warm weight of her presence grounding you in place as her lips moved insistently against yours. It was a familiar rhythm, one you usually found yourself melting into. Normally, her touch—firm yet gentle—would have had you feeling nothing but desire, lost in the anticipation that only she could draw out in you. But tonight, you found yourself bracing against her, your mind elsewhere as self-doubt seeped into every crevice of your thoughts.

In the months since your injury, your body had changed. The rehab program had brought new strength, but also unexpected curves. You felt softer than before, and no amount of repetition to yourself that it was necessary, even healthy, could shake the unease when you looked in the mirror. Stretch marks that had once been barely visible now mapped their way along your thighs and hips, undeniable reminders of the ways your body had adjusted, healed, and grown. But rather than pride, you felt exposed, vulnerable, as though these visible changes were flaws rather than symbols of resilience.

Alexia's hands moved purposefully down your sides, her fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. The familiar touch that once filled you with security now left you tense. She had been so patient, so understanding, never pressing you to go further. You hadn't made love since before the surgery. First, it was because you couldn't physically handle it. Then, as you started healing, there was always some excuse. You'd kept her at arm's length, letting yourself be the one in control, making sure her attention stayed solely on her own pleasure. You'd hoped it would distract her, keep her from noticing the hesitation that lingered in your own movements.

But tonight, Alexia's determination to close the distance between you was clear. Her hands, more insistent than before, slid up the curve of your waist, drawing you closer, pulling you back into the intimacy you'd once shared without question. The air felt heavy with the unspoken, and you felt the edges of your own defenses starting to fray, your discomfort edging into something you couldn't suppress.

When she tugged at your waistband, her intention was unmistakable, and your body instinctively pulled back as your voice rose, pleading, "Stop." It was barely more than a whisper, but the tremor in your tone cut through the haze between you, and Alexia stilled immediately. Her hands halted as she pulled back, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and yearning. Her breathing was still ragged as she leaned back, moving to her knees, studying you with furrowed brows. The way she looked at you, raw and concerned, was almost too much, the shame twisting inside you like a vice. She asked gently what was wrong, her voice softened, but the words sat heavy in the air.

Your hands flew to your face, covering your eyes in an effort to hide the turmoil, but you felt her move closer, her presence warm and unwavering. Her hands reached for you, wrapping around your shoulders as she drew you to her chest, her bare leg slipping behind your back as she cradled you against her. One of her arms slipped under your legs, tugging you sideways so that you were cocooned in her embrace, sheltered and safe.

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you stifled your sobs against your palms, feeling Alexia's gentle sway as she rocked you. Her hand stroked up and down your back, a steady rhythm that eased some of the tension from your body. You clung to her, desperate for the comfort her touch provided, feeling your breath catch as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

There, in her arms, you knew that hiding wasn't an option anymore.

"What's wrong, amor?" her voice was so tender that the words you'd been holding back spilled out before you could stop them. Choking on each syllable, you told her everything—how much you hated the way you looked, how every curve felt wrong, how the stretch marks on your thighs and hips felt like a betrayal. You admitted that fueling your body had become a battle, that you'd started skipping meals, working out to the point of straining your knee, forcing yourself to push through the ache just to feel worthy.

"I spend so much time," you said, your voice breaking, "just standing in front of the mirror, analysing everything. Picking myself apart until I can't stand it anymore. I can't even..." Your voice faltered, thick with tears. "I can't even look at myself."

Alexia's hold on you tightened, her fingers digging slightly into your back, as if to keep you grounded. Her eyes never left your face, absorbing every raw word, her own eyes brimming with pain, reflecting the hurt you'd been carrying.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want you to look at me without clothes because... if I hate what I see, then... then surely you would too." The admission slipped out, a final, aching confession. "Maybe if you just waited... if you could just hold on a little while longer, I'll be back to how I was before. And then... then it'd be okay."

But before you could finish, Alexia cut you off, her voice firmer than you'd ever heard it, startling you with the sharpness of her words. "Don't you dare say that," she whispered, her tone fierce with a hurt that mirrored your own. You flinched, and she immediately softened, her fingers brushing your cheek as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean to scare you. But you're wrong," she said, her voice still laced with intensity. She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze, her brown eyes holding you captive. "Please, just listen."

As she adjusted you slightly in her lap, holding you close, she wrapped her arms around you, drawing you into the comforting circle of her warmth. You nodded, still sniffling, your fingers curled into her shirt as you leaned into her touch.

"You are beautiful," she said firmly. "Siempre. Every day. Every moment." You opened your mouth to protest, but she pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you before you could interrupt. Her gaze softened, her thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears as she continued.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see someone strong, even when you don't feel it." Her hands slid down your arms, squeezing gently. "These arms? They hold me, support me, even when you're feeling like this. And your legs? I know you think they're different now, but to me, they're perfect." She moved her hand down to rest on your thigh, tracing small circles with her thumb. "Do you remember the times I've rested my head here, just because it's where I feel safe?"

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve waver as her words seeped into the cracks of your defenses.

"And your stretch marks?" She leaned down, her lips brushing over your thigh, a gentle kiss that made you shiver. "They're proof of what you've been through. Proof that your body is fighting, that you're healing. They're beautiful to me. You are beautiful to me."

Still, the doubts clawed at you, whispers of insecurity that wouldn't quiet. She saw the uncertainty in your eyes and, as if reading your thoughts, she brought her hand up to cup your face, her gaze locked with yours.

"Please, amor," she murmured, her voice almost a plea. "Let me show you."

You could barely bring yourself to nod.

With that, she kissed you, her lips moving slowly, reverently. Her hands cupped your face, her fingers tracing the lines of your jaw, holding you as though you were something precious. And with each kiss, each soft murmur of adoration, you felt a little bit of the weight start to lift.

She coaxed you to lie back, settling you against the pillows, her hand trailing down to link with yours, her fingers warm and grounding. As she leaned over you, her lips found your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that sent warmth spreading through you. Her lips traced every inch of exposed skin, reverent, tender, making you feel seen in a way you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in so long.

“I love this," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your hips, the slight curve of your waist. "Every part of you is beautiful to me."

She kissed the stretch marks on your thighs, her lips brushing over them with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Her hands remained steady, her fingers tracing over your body as if memorising every curve, every line. She didn't rush, allowing you to sink into the feeling of her touch, to let yourself be held, to let yourself be loved without hesitation or restraint. She murmured soft affirmations, telling you how much she adored you, how lucky she felt to have you, her words anchoring you to the here and now.

And somewhere in the midst of her gentle worship, you found yourself relaxing, the tension in your body easing as her love wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You felt her hands against your sides, her lips pressing tender kisses to your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

As she continued, her lips pressing gentle, adoring kisses over every inch of your body, you knew that healing wouldn't be immediate, that learning to love yourself again would take time. But with Alexia by your side, holding you, loving you, showing you the beauty she saw in you, you felt a glimmer of hope that one day, you might see it too.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[barbaricjester]

What if the Mystery Shack was alive. Almost like that movie Monster House, but... Gentler.

It's made from lumber that was grown and chopped down in Gravity Falls, and the entire valley itself has a weirdness to it, which is why weird things are attracted to and tend to stay there. It's not a far stretch to assume that the valley itself, the trees and rocks, are all semi conscious, almost, in an Eldritch sense.

Put under a read more because this got rambly.

What if the Mystery Shack was built, and at first it's angry. Gravity Falls doesn't mind its trees being used for shelter, used to expand the town and protect it, but Stanford wasn't part of the town. He was a stranger.

After he moved in, the cabin itself was hostile to him. It could rearrange his furniture, hide his keys, attract monsters to his door- all of which Ford is oblivious to, for a while. For long enough that the cabin gets to know him, in a sense.

Ford isn't here to hurt the valley's weird things, it realizes in whatever consciousness it has. He's here to learn. To study. To treasure. Slowly, it warms up to him. Things stop going missing. Now monsters show up on the porch, passive and willing to be studied. Now Ford's keys always seem to be right where he thought he put them last.

When Fiddleford joins, the cabin takes a while to warm up to him, too. But it likes the banjo music, and Fiddleford even comments that the house seems calm, almost sleepy, when he plays.

Then of course, things with Bill happens. The cabin isn't strong enough to protect its caretaker, to keep Bill out, but it tries. When Ford wakes with bloody knuckles, a first aid kit is at his bedside table. When he's frantically gulping coffee, the pot always seems full and fresh. When he stumbles inside from the blistering cold, there's a fire roaring in the hearth, a blanket on the couch, to comfort him.

When Bill is possessing Ford's body, the cabin does everything it can to keep him inside, doubling down on Ford's own security to keep Bill away from the portal in its basement.

When Stan arrives, the cabin is as relieved as it can be- there's help, now, Ford will be okay-!

And then Ford is gone, and the cabin is powerless to stop it.

It grieves. It mourns. The shabby cabin sinks in on itself. Its walls peel, its floors crack, melted snow drips thought the roof like tears. It knows the new resident is mourning, too. The new resident doesn't take care of himself, and he doesn't take care of the cabin. When he cries, the groaning logs almost seem to wail with him.

But the new resident is trying. Trying to get Ford back. The portal makes it hard for the cabin to reach down into the basement, but it tries. It watches, anxious and hopeful that its old master will be saved.

As the years go by, the cabin is transformed into the Murder Hut, and later, the Mystery Shack. The night of the grand opening, Stanley pauses and puts his hand on the wall with an anxious sigh. The cabin feels it, and groans as it tries to stand up a little straighter, tries to mend the cracks in its flooring and clear the dust from its own windows. When Stan wanders into the kitchen, he finds a cigar and a drink, waiting for him. It's going to be okay.

Years go by. Stan is aware the cabin has some kind of sentience, but he never outright acknowledges it, other than in quiet moments, when he thanks it, puts a hand on the wall and stands there for a moment.

The cabin likes Soos, because he cleans it and takes care of it. It warms up to Wendy, and she always manages to find a cold can of Pitt Cola or a popsicle when she wants one. The cabin is the one to show her the hatch on the roof.

Then the twins come along, and the cabin can sense how anxious, how excited Stanley is. It cleans itself up as much as it can, proud and anticipating these esteemed guests. And oh, it loves them when they arrive.

The cabin is subtle, at first, but it wants to help. It wants the kids to enjoy staying there. It conjures snacks and sweets aplenty for Mabel, and moved the books around so Dipper always finds something new to read.

Of course Dipper catches on first, especially once he finds the journal. It's a mere footnote, really, that the author left about feeling like the house was alive, but it's enough to get Dipper thinking. He talks to the Shack, he tests things out, and in time, it reveals itself. As muggy summer showers fog the windows, Mabel doodles in the condensation, and finds that something else is drawing with her. Flowers and hearts and smiley faces, she plays tic-tac-toe with no one and is excited to show Dipper.

Of course, Stan denies all of it when they try to tell him, and if the Shack could laugh, it would.

When Gideon takes it over, the cabin has never known such fury. It slams its doors, smashes it's own windows, the floorboards wail and walls crack with rage that Gideon dare hurt its Pines family. It torments, as much as it can, but with the second journal in Gideon's possession, there's only so much it can do that he can't circumnavigate.

At the reopening, the Shack presents its best self. Its so relieved that the family is safe, it conjures boxes of cookie mix and makes their beds a little extra soft. It's never been so relieved to have thumbtacks driven into its rafters as Mabel hangs her posters back up.

And then. And then Stan has the journals again. Then he's buckled down and getting to work, and the cabin stirs, an anticipation, a hope, three decades old beginning to grow anew. It takes care of Stan as he works himself to the limit, helps distract the kids.

And finally, finally, finally- even though it nearly tears the Shack apart, its still alive enough to know when its old master returns, stepping back into its basement. Home at last. Safe.

The whole family, in their own ways, apologize to the Shack as it's repaired after that, but it just sighs. Just groans. It's alright. It's just happy to have Ford back. It tries conjuring endless coffee, first aid kits and blankets again for him, and Ford laughs, pats the wall and promises that he's okay, that he missed the Shack, too.

The unicorn spell makes the Shack stronger. It can't speak, it can't move, but it is proud to do what it does best- protect.

Weirdmageddon comes, and the shack doesn't think twice about opening its doors to the cryptids, creatures, and survivors. It's the Shack but it's made of the valley, and the valley's residents need protection. It locks itself down, keeps them all safe inside, dolling out blankets and aid kits until it has utterly exhausted itself and its magic. As anxious as a house can be, it frets for the missing Pines members, and is overjoyed when Mabel and Dipper return.

When they decide to make the Shacktron, Stanley is the only one to think to ask the house if it's okay with that. The Shack doesn't like it, but if it means saving the valley, then... It groans softly to Stan. It's going to be okay.

The Shack nearly dies in the fight. The unicorn spell is the only thing that holds it and its consciousness together. It's collapsed, ruinous, rubble, when the family returns. It's feeble, but it tries. It straightens up Stan's recliner, clears the debris off the seat. The Shack is exhausted. It's mourning. But the family is safe.

It's all but dormant as they do repairs. It can't conjure or rearrange things, and the family frets over it. The day of the kids birthday, though, the Shack rouses itself. It sits up a little straighter, holds their birthday banner aloft with pride.

It's sad, too, though. It knows the Pines are leaving. Soos and his abuelita are welcome to stay- and the Shack is relieved it won't be empty- but it misses the Pines terribly. It slams its shutters and the floorboards creak in protest as the little twins leave. It throws an even bigger tantrum when the older ones go, and only settles when they all promise to be back next summer.

(in the meantime, the Shack has a lot of work to do, helping the new Mr. Mystery manage everything. Soos never quite catches on, but Abuelita does.)

So the Shack stays. It waits. It hopes, and it protects.

And when the next summer rolls around, when its family comes back, it welcomes them in, welcomed them home, with open doors.

[entry-85]

Tangy Delectibility | Vampire!Alex Kralie x Jay Merrick

jaylex | vampire au | 2k words | 16+

this isn't a masterpiece, I literally wrote this in probably an hour but I'm on a jaylex and a writing kick.

vaguely based off of @creative-clawmarks's liveleak au (au on the brain chat)

not really canon correlated.

The apartment was dim, the only light leaking through being the kitchen light some feet away from where they sat, providing just little enough light for Alex’s eyes not to feel like they were burning out of his sockets and just enough for Jay to see him. They sat in mostly silence, so much so you could hear a pin drop into the carpet— Or, at least, Alex could.

His arms were wrapped around Jay’s waist, head tilted slightly up to stare blankly at the barren ceiling of his apartment, trying to ignore how the other male was trying to weasel his way into getting bitten onto. This was just how their relationship was; When exactly it had started he couldn't fully pinpoint, but ever since that first bite, both of them were thoroughly hooked— though Alex refused to admit he was, he didn't rely on Jay’s blood to get by, it was just a treat— It was just something he could look forward to weekly in his boring and frankly irritating life. Jay however, he was completely reliant on the toxin that would seep from Alex’s fangs, psychologically dependent on the effects of it that would render him damn near paralyzed. It wasn't even addictive, yet anyone who saw Jay coming after it every week would probably assume it was. Hell, maybe Jay was just that pathetic.

Alex could feel the boy pushing his head into the crook of his neck, and he couldn't help but let out a low sigh as their skin brushed together. He had been ignoring the others desperate attempts to get his fix, opting to act like nothing was happening courtesy of the pounding headache pressurizing the inside of his skull right now. He could only take so much bright fluorescent lighting, loud garbles of everyone’s overlapping voices, and 3 hours of getting his head slammed with knowledge and things to remember before he had enough, and he had nearly forgotten that Jay was even coming over until he heard the knock at his door because of it. He knew it would be best to just stop stalling, alleviate his pain with his favourite nutrient source and give Jay exactly what he wanted in turn— But God, he was procrastinating. Hard.

“Alex..”

His thoughts were broken apart before he could continue his ridiculous conundrum of being too damn lazy to get what he needed when it was right in front of him by the sound of what he needed right in front of him, eyes finally tearing away from burning holes into the ceiling to glance down at the heap of brown hair at the bottom his vision. Jay’s voice was slightly muffled, shivers being sent down Alex’s spine as his lips brushed against the skin of his neck. Damn tease.

“You okay?” He continued, his voice gradually drawing off into a whine before he pressed a kiss into Alex’s neck. He swore, Jay got on his damn nerves sometimes, but God, everyone did. He didn't think a person walked on this planet that couldn't piss him off at this point.

He let out a sigh he didn't know he had been holding, combing his fingers through the others hair after shifting his eyes away from him. Jay hadn't done anything particularly wrong besides be worried, and needy, he really didn't have any reason to be getting upset at him. God, maybe he did just need to eat— Or, well, drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He breathed out in yet another sigh, like the first one hadn’t fully made its escape yet. “Just.. tired.” He excused, his shoulders sagging a little. He wondered if Jay could see right through him, right though his ‘just tired’ umbrella excuse he used to brush off everything. Was he tired? Probably, but he was damn irritated and his head was killing him and he was probably starving by now. He probably could— They’ve known each other for, what, 5 some years now?-

Yet again, his thought train derailed suddenly as he felt a hand press against him right at the bottom of his ribcage. He felt himself jolt, a heat coming to his face that he would rather die than keep feeling— “I know what could make you feel better..”— Filled his ears, the most allusive words said in the meekest of voices. He hated when Jay did that, he knew the other knew what he was doing, saying things like that acting all innocent. He was a hell of a lot more of a string-puller than people gave him credit for, that was for sure. He just couldn’t be patient, could he?-

The slightly shorter male lifted himself from where he was tucked in Alex’s neck, tilting his head in such a way to reveal more skin, skin that was adorned with the light scarring of every other time Alex sunk his teeth in. God, he really needed to be more careful about that, he couldn't just let Jay walk around looking like he got attacked or something—

A hand slid up on his shoulder, fingertips subtly brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Jay’s eyes said it all— He knew what he wanted, he knew what Alex needed, and he knew that they both knew. It made the blond question if he should just give in, if he should have given in hours ago– If he should just stop being stubborn and give his body what it needed, especially since Jay was offering himself so willingly.

“Hungry?” Jay broke their silence, pulling at the collar of his own shirt to show more of his skin, the tendons moving visibly under his flesh and making him all the more appealing. Alex felt his eyes narrow right on the spot he knew gave him the best results, his hunger awakening like a beast stirring from a long sleep. He suddenly wanted nothing more but to lunge at the other, taste the tang of his flavour and—

No, no, he needed to stop himself there. Jay didn't control him and he certainly didn't need his offers. Besides, he should probably just wean off of this whole thing now, before he seriously couldn't control himself anymore. Surely, if he just learned to live without the taste of blood in his mouth, he’d stop having such urges, right? If he caught it early?

“No, I’m fine.” His voice rang out, sterner than he probably intended. He casted his gaze off again, not wanting to feel his own resolve crumble the moment he looked into Jay’s heavy lidded eyes. But even as he avoided eye contact, he could feel the others' stare bore into him. He didn't buy it, but hell, did Alex even believe himself?

“You're always hungry.” He filled the silence, the words making Alex’s lips purse. Yeah, he probably was. There was probably never a moment where he wasn't smelling blood, hearing everyone’s heartbeat over his own that had faded out by now, never a moment where the urge ebbed at the back of his mind— But he’d probably tuned it out. Years of doing that with humanly food had prepared him well for becoming an eldritch monster, who would have thought?

He let out a sigh through his nose, weighing his options. Would it make much of a difference if he gave in one last time, as long as he kept himself in check later? Jay was offering, he wanted it just as much as Alex did. What would the harm be? He just wouldn't take as much blood this time..

He casted his gaze over, narrowed eyes staring deep into Jay’s green ones, fighting to not fall over the skin of his neck that his peripheral was honed in on. It would get rid of his headache, that was a benefit, right? It was the only thing that would help, he knew that.. What choice did he have?

“Fine. Just a little.” He grumbled, shifting in his spot on the couch under the bleek weight of Jay. He could have sworn he saw his eyes light up from the corner of his eye, but he casted that thought aside in favour of moving his hands to press flush against Jay’s lower back, pressing him a little closer. Jay moved without a fight, draping his head over Alex’s shoulder to angle the skin of his neck parallel with his teeth. Alex’s eyes bore into exactly where he wanted to bite— The fleshy part right in front of the largest tendon. That part always gave him the best results.

They sat in unmoving silence for a moment, Jay’s breath quietly sounding out as it fanned across Alex’s own neck. He let his hunger build, the pressure soon filling out his gums as his fangs protracted in, pupils dilating while the clawing ache of fervour dug into his being. This is what Jay asked for, and he would give him what he wanted.

After what could only have felt like ages, he leaned forward, wetting the skin with his tongue just to give the briefest of warning before sinking his teeth in, moving with Jay as he tensed. This was a delicate procedure— He wasn't looking to rip his throat out with his teeth, afterall. They just had to keep still for a little longer..

Once he tasted the tangy, copper flavour of liquid seeping past his teeth, he knew he hit the right spot. He retracted them, only to latch right back onto his skin, licking at the blood beading out. He could hear Jay’s hitched breath, feeling the way his throat and chest stuttered each time, but he ignored it to focus instead on the eye-rolling delectability of the others blood, his hands moving to grip his hips to keep him in place.

He could feel Jay’s growing limpness as the toxin worked its magic to fill his mind with haziness, his head dropping down fully onto his shoulder as Alex sucked down the blood until he was sure it would stop pouring. He could feel the pressure in his head ease up, his irritation being smoothed over by the calming balm he was drinking down. When he was satisfied, he moved back, soothing the bite wound with his tongue to numb the pain soon and, hopefully, not leave too big of a scar. Who knew you’d get a free neomycin built into your saliva when you're turned into a beast? Definitely not Alex.

He moved away, his back resting against the couch yet again as he casted his gaze over at the male in his lap, watching as he swayed before falling limp against his chest. He moved a hand up, combing through the back of his hair. “Happy now?” He questioned, his voice now smooth without the migraine and irritation ebbing behind every word. Jay didn't reply anything besides a grunt, but that was all he needed to do. Alex knew the answer, he knew it was a yes, because it was always a yes.

He let his head lean back against the couch as he basked in the newfound relief flooding through his head, the metallic taste still coating the roof of his mouth. He should have just done this hours ago— Maybe he wouldn't have been so pissy the whole time. He continued going through the motions of his “I can't believe I was so stupid” self lecture, unbeknownst to the fact that his talking blood supply was sliding off of his lap until he heard the sound of his knees hitting against the carpeted-over concrete floor. The sound made Alex cringe slightly— He may have built up a higher tolerance now, but he knew good and well what that felt like.

His eyes traced back over to where Jay now sat between his legs on the floor, observing him to see if this was a complete accident or his own doing. It was a valid response, Jay had learned how to navigate the heavy stupor of the toxin by now, and he had interesting desires and even more interesting ways of going about getting them. Alex learned over the years not to question it, and he especially didn't now when he felt the pressure of Jay’s head resting against his stomach, eyes closed and body heavy. He stayed still for just another beat of silence, before lacing his fingers back through the others hair, letting him stay there for the time being. Both of them were satisfied, and he was sure both of them were content with being sat in comfortable silence instead of the usual tension.

He just had to hold back from doing this next time. Or, maybe the time after that instead..

[itstheval]

Memory of Dreary Days / Siffrin Gets An Earring

A @livesworthlivingau Side Story

It was a lovely autumn day, and Siffrin was miserable.

This wasn't anything new, they'd come to realize. The events of Dormont had changed - and possibly Changed - them, but that was months ago, a little over a year now. No, this frustration was newer, possibly the last few months, but they'd managed to identify it over time.

They watched Mirabelle and Isabeau, in front of them, chatting about what Changes they might want to make in the future. Isabeau had a whole list of ideas, but Mirabelle was being more cautious, as usual. Odile was watching and writing, and Bonbon, they were sitting on Nille's shoulders as both of them added their two coins when they had an idea. Leaving you, Siffrin the Traveler, as an outsider. Again.

It wasn't their fault, you knew it. You were empty inside, and this entire adventure you were on was to fill you. That was something the doctor had mentioned, that you seemed to agree with…You didn't have a past, so they were making you one, because they wanted you to. So why were you being talked over, and around? Why were they treating you like a pet, not someone with their own ideas?

The only thing worse than knowing it was it being known, unfortunately. It seemed like they came to a pause in conversation, and Isabeau looked back as though remembering you existed after so long ignoring you.

"What about you, Sif? Got any ideas for big Changes?"

You could laugh. You could sob. You remembered being as large as the sky, and just as filled with stars. You pictured yourself, star-headed and lightless-skinned.

"I don't think so! That's a Vaugardian thing, isn't it?"

The words were more bitter than you imagined them to be, and the second they left your lips you knew that they were wrong. A second after, you told yourself otherwise. "Words can't be wrong", the doctor had said, "If you mean them. You're trying to express yourself, not win a game." Well, from the way everyone else's faces fell, that was good, because you'd have just lost hard.

"That doesn't mean you can't Change! There's Houses everywhere that will take you in and help you, too."

"Yes," Odile continued. "I've thought of using them myself, during my time here, but I never had time to stay in one place, what with…everything."

"Really, madame? You're so pretty! What would you even change?"

And the conversation was off again…Odile explaining her heritage yet again, too-thick hair and too-wide eyes for ka bue, too-thin eyes and too-thin hair for Vaugarde. You wondered, sometimes, if Ka Buans had thought she was as pretty as Vaugardians do. You wonder, in the moment, if they'd bother talking to you again.

They hadn't.

You'd caught Isabeau looking over at you, with something more thoughtful than pity, but you could see the pity in it. Whatever he had in his mind, it wasn't enough to make him ask about anywhere else, or change the subject. Quietly, you thought about how much nicer it would've been if you'd just gone for a comfortable lie instead.

▬▬▬

It was a rainy, autumnal day, and Siffrin was bored.

It wasn't anyone's fault, everyone knew that was just what happened in Autumn. You found somewhere to stay until the rains ended, or you trudged through the worst mud that you could imagine. Bored or miserable, and to the family the choice was obvious. Siffrin had been…letting themself think of them that way for a while, even without telling them. Their little secret. Maybe not their family, but they were the family, and nobody could blame him for that, right? Watching Mira read to Bonbon, watching Isa and Nille talking about, of all things, carpentry, and Madame writing in those inscrutable books of hers.

You hated it. You hated listening to it, you hated being part of it, and you hated being trapped in it. It was nothing like the loops, you knew, but it was almost worse in its way. Watching everyone else with a role, with something to do, and you off to the side like some pet. You'd already napped yourself dry, and nobody had begrudged you sleeping through breakfast, even if it meant you were likely to stay up well after the candles were out at night. But the rest of your day…

You sighed. Sitting there wasn't going to make you any happier, and you'd already looked at all of the books Mira had brought with her. You'd read through the horror stories until they started showing up in your dreams, when Mirabelle had banned you from reading any more of them because of how you'd been whimpering in your sleep. Isa had tried to defend your right to read, but the looks Odile had given him had made him blush in a peculiar way and stop trying, and that had been the end of it. The less said about the romances, the better. You understood that Vaugarde was an open place, but the things they dreamt up to keep two people from each other felt so cliched, so unreal, so impossible that you couldn't get into them.

So, you laid there, in a bed, in a wooden room, staring at the ceiling until the morning came.

How familiar.

That thought sent a shudder down your spine that you knew everyone noticed, but you got out of bed before any of them could comment on it. No, you were dealing with this. You weren't being dealt with, not this time. You hopped up, and walked over to Odile, who closed her book as you approached.

"What could you be writing down now?" you found it in you to ask. "Vaugardian rainy-day games? I thought you were a master at those." The joking tone managed to reach your voice, you thought, and you were glad for it.

"Oh, I wasn't writing at all. Believe it or not, I'm designing something."

"Designing?" The surprise in your voice was clear.

"Well yes. You have your woodcarving…Or had it, when we were near forested areas enough to find scrapwood. Mirabelle has her writing. I thought I should perhaps try my hands at something creative."

"Oh, can I see?" This was WAY more interesting than laying in bed!

"If you can guess what it is, then yes. It wasn't fair that I didn't get to see your face when my research was revealed, after all." Her smile was coy and knowing, but she did, ultimately, have a point.

"Oh, is it…" You looked around, trying to think of what could be in the room that she could draw inspiration from.

"Clothesmaking? Like Isa plans to?"

"Nice try, young one. But that's your one try for the day." Odile's eyes turned up as she thought about the idea. "Besides, do you think I'd compete with Isabeau? In something he's planned for that long?"

You had to concede the point.

▬▬▬

"Carpentry?"

"Can you imagine me swinging a hammer, Siffrin? I know my limits, and they stop well before there."

▬▬▬

"Bookbinding!" You thought for sure you had her on that one. Something to do with her precious books, and something she could study from Mira's colleciton and her own?

"Sadly, no. But, now that you mention it, maybe I should."

▬▬▬

So the days had passed, until things were clear again. The world was colder now, and you could feel it around your cloak, but everyone was well prepared for it. You'd all gotten your own instructions on what to purchase, and been sent off to pick up supplies, which had taken the whole day between bartering and transporting. Thakfully, without Mira there you managed to get a Savior of Vaugarde Discount, and used the extra coin to pick up a pain au chocolat. Some things, it seemed, were eternal, and this one you didn't mind.

So it was that you returned to the inn, one hand with a canvas bag full of smaller bags, spices and flour and other things for Bonbon, the other letting you munch away happily, but you found yourself pausing outside the door. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You finished your treat quickly, and opened the door with a hand on your dagger. A pre-feeling, something that you couldn't put words to, told you that there was something going on beyond the door

You were right.

But not how you thought.

Instead, the family had been standing around in a half-circle, seemingly waiting for you to get back! You barely had time to rescue the groceries as a Bonbon-shaped missile impacted your legs and held you, Mira following after on the other side and Nille even stepping in to ruffle your hair, as Odile looked on fondly, and Isa…Hid something.

As lovely as the feeling was, your suspicions were raised far too high.

You managed a laugh, and to pull yourself free of the hug after enough time that it had started to loosen, before staring down Isa. Watching his cheeks darken was almost worth he price of admission, even as the others spoke around you. Again.

"I told you he'd notice!"

"You hardly had a better idea, Mirabelle."

"Uh-uh! We shoulda done it at dinner! Make sure he's comf-ta-bul."

"Comfortable, Boniface."

"That's what I said!"

It all flowed around you, as you stepped closer to Isa, and sighed. "I know what bonding earrings are, Isa." You allowed, holding out a hand, making him stutter even worse - and sending a roil of laughter around the room from everyone else.

That wasn't it? Then what was he hiding?"

"You're half right, I'm afraid. This is actually something we'd all been thinking about for a while…The past week just proved how important it was. It's not bonding earrings, but…"

As Odile spoke, Isabeau brought a black jewelry box around, holding it out to you. His words were trembling and small, in the way he always seemed to do only for you. You wished he wouldn't…his big booming voice was always so nice.

"We noticed you don't have any earrings yourself, Sif! And…I mean, you're as Vaugardian as any of us, if you want to be. Not that you should feel like you have to give anything up for us! But! I thought this might…make it easier to remember?"

What…were they saying?

Isabeau opened the box, and instead of one of his black i-earrings like you'd expected, a pair of star-shaped earrings rested inside. They were a light shade, just dark enough to notice around your hair, and obviously handcrafted. The edges were imprecise, the designs weren't symmetrical, and you could feel the love in every angle.

You stared. You didn't know what else to do.

Isa was saying more things, and it sounded like other people were responding, but you lifted up a hand to the box. A shaking hand, you realized when it was halfway there. Trembling, uncertain, but you didn't dare stop now. Not when they'd put so much effort in.

"-know what I was working on, the past few days. It's something of a rush job and it shows, but it's even more Vaugardian to have it made by your family, isn't it?" Odile was speaking.

Made…by your family.

Made by them.

You cried. You wrapped your arms around the giant body of Isabeau and you cried and you sobbed and you bawled and for once in your life, you weren't ashamed of a single sound you made. There wasn't any room for it in your heart. Not with everything else you were feeling.

Everyone else was holding you in moments. You turned, as best you could in the group hug, to include all of them. You knew you were getting tears and snot all over them and you didn't care. They were there. They were your family. They…You were one of them.

In that moment, of all moments, you were loved.

[reverieblondie]

Rolan x Tav prompt: Rolan (and maybe his siblings, too) meets Tav's family, who thought Tav was dead after being abducted by the mind flayers, only for Tav's family to react... poorly to one of their own being with 'one of those devil spawns'. What if after a moment of shock, his lover absolutely tears into their family—I'm talking 'How dare you!', maybe Tav even smacks one of their family members in the face first, ending with something like 'If I'd known I was related to such disgusting people, then I'd have saved us all some trouble and let you continue to think I was dead!'—before storming away, their hand in Rolan's, as they murmur apology after apology to him about what just happened and ask if he is okay?

So I have been sitting on this one forever! I keep starting it but just can not get the story right so I will do a quick drabble for the ending. I love this this prompt! and I can totally see this happening to a Tav who has been estranged to their family. Maybe one of the reasons they were in a position to get abducted was because they were leaving their family home for something better.

I think the only reason Tav would go to this thing was because of Rolan suggesting it might be good to see her family again, get closer about everything. Rolan offers to go with her for moral support (like a good partner would) Of course her family are asses from the start talking about how famous Tav is now and how much money they must be making... but Tav and Rolan are just trying to ignore these rude questions and their not so sublet subjections for help... Tav is obviously not wanting to help them after everything and her family has some things to say about that...

"You disappear for a year and your some fancy hero and you can't even help your family? What have you even been doing all this time? shacking up with some...hellspawn?"

Now insult Tav all you want but go after Rolan? Hells no.

"And what of it? Rolan is my partner."

That's when Tavs aunt speaks up, "Your a fool girl, those soulless imps will take you for what your worth then throw you out."

Tav is about to slap her aunt but before she can her hand is caught by Rolan. Tav looks at Rolans solemn face and that's when the tears well up.

Tav holds the tears in as much as he can as he looks at those people who dare to call themselves her family. "You are the soulless ones... Rolan and his family have been more of a family to me than any of you ever were... Consider me dead, because you all are dead to me."

With that Tav storms out with Rolans hands tightly in hers, they walk in a fast pace heading towards their home and Tav is fighting the tears trying to fall from her eyes and Rolan keeps trying to call for her to slow down. Finally Tav stops and spins around hugging Rolan so tightly it threatens to knock the air out of his lungs.

"I am, I am so sorry... I didn't know they... I'm so sorry for what they said. Please know that I didn't think they would say that. They are terr-"

Rolan finally places his hand to Tavs Rambling lips before wiping her tears. "I'm the one whose sorry... I told you to go visit them.. and what they said... I've been ridiculed my whole life, but for them to ridicule you is something I can never forgive."

Tav and Rolan share in a tearful embrace, both of them trying so hard to reinsure if the other is okay.

I later imagine when they get engage its a huge story in the Baldurs Gate paper. Its not out of spite... but if they happen to see it and feel like idiots than thats okay too.

[evelynpr]

Might be a hot take as a bkdk and tgck truther here, but I find izuocha endlessly fascinating, beautiful, but also tearfully tragic.

I see their love for each other as something representative of their innocence and naivety when they only knew so little about who they were, and what was to come.

I think the main barrier of their relationship is that its rooted in how they see each other very idealistically, specifically that they're attached to the image of their Best Heroic Selves, and not the deeply selfish, destructive, freaky, and egotistical parts of them. To each other, they need to keep fulfilling that image or else that same person they looked up to would almost die in front of them, and that would be too cruel. Although that hero is still there, that same person they looked up to is not the same now because of...well...everything.

Izuku had barely even talked to girls when he first met her. She was Izuku's first ever real friend (Sorry Kats, everyone and him knows he was terrible), so he saved her in that entrance exam even if it was so dangerous. She gave a new meaning to his derogatory nickname just by being a friend that believed in him. After that, she saved him several more times (Blackwhip and Megaphone are the biggest samples iirc). It makes perfect sense that she is Deku's hero.

Ochako hardly knew what it meant to be a hero when she first got into UA. Just by reaching out to some kid tripping, she made a new friend who would then save her in that exam, then save him again in return. This boy then became someone who was always working so hard to save everyone in trouble, and she realized she wanted to be just like him too. "I want to save people"

But...Deku changes. The weight of One for All is on his shoulders and he needs someone to carry this burden with him. He continues to want to save other people at the expense of himself, still not letting his true selfishness and ego ever show- and it only grows more and more unbearable.

Then...Ochako fell in love with Himiko. Truly, relentlessly, selfishly and devotedly in love with a girl who then dies giving her blood to her- the greatest expression of love Himiko could ever give.

Not that they can't love each other because of this happening (and...so many other things oh god), I'm honestly not sure how to explain it- But them ending up together after losing that innocence and naivety? After Ochako will forever grieve the girl who showed her love in its most beautiful and ugly form? After Izuku changed so fundamentally as a person that the butterflies of a nice girl talking to you doesn't exist anymore? After that simple image of being a hero and being in love has completely changed for them both?

Even so, I believe they still love each other. There is no label I know of that can properly describe them though. They are each other's image of being a hero when it comes to saving people. Aside from Shoto, no one else can grasp the grief of the person you tried to save dying in your hands. They would no doubt try to cope with these losses together, and just try to get better together...but so much has changed. They've changed. The world changed. What are they now? Who are they now?

"What happened...to us?"

[brotherwtf]

Bucky is in a piss poor mood and Gale suggests they take a drive and they go out into an abandoned field and Gale pushes Bucky into the backseat pulls out his cock out and rides him until Bucky has forgot all about his bad day

figuring out their problems with sex that's clegan for you

----

"Let's take a drive John, your mood is only going to get worse," Gale pleads and John just sighs in frustration.

John had had the longest of days, one of those days that would just never end and was frustration after frustration. One of those days that was spent living in the past instead of in the present, where ghosts lingered in the corners of his vision and wouldn't leave no matter how hard John closed his eyes.

It had taken its toll on Gale as well, John was drinking more today than he normally did, snapped at him with a cold voice and he knows Gale didn't deserve it, not when he's battling his own demons. He was angry and frustrated, and he couldn't quite stop himself.

And even when Gale forced him into the car, took the left seat even though John always insisted on driving, and took him out to a lot abandoned by a soldier lost in Germany, throwing the car into park and rolling the windows up, darting his head to make sure that no one could see them.

"Buck what the fuck are you doi---" John tries to mutter before he's immediately shut up by Gale's lips on his, a quiet moan muffled into him.

John kisses him back with a fervor, lacing his fingers into Gale's hair and pressing him closer. The ghosts disappeared as soon as Gale kissed him, shoulders relaxing with each huff and sigh against his lips as Gale moved to push John's button-up shirt off of him, keeping himself up with a hand on the center console, leaning his body weight into John so he can be held.

John wraps an arm around Gale's shoulders with a hand on the nape of his neck, kissing him deeper while Gale successfully opens his shirt and runs his hands up and down John's chest.

"Get in the back," Gale says, breathless while John pants against his lips, tugging his shirt to try and shove him into the back seat.

John goes, albeit awkwardly and Gale follows him, straddling his hips and kissing him again, holding his face while he grinds his hips back onto John's hardening cock, making breathy sounds against John's lips as his hands sloppily find John's belt, grabbing his cock and pulling it haphazardly from his briefs. Gale's hand is hot on John's cock, tugging on it a couple of times to drag the precum already beading at the tip across the entire length.

"Gale, fuck, whats gotten into you?" John asks, shoving his hands up under Gale's shirt so he can grab his waist.

He pulls on Gale's belt and helps him to awkwardly shove Gale's slacks off of him, throwing them onto the car floor as John moves for Gale's lips again, kissing with an almost embarrassing desperation.

"Come on, John, let me take care of you," Gale says through gritted teeth, hand finding Johns cock again and guiding it towards his hole.

They fucked last night, but even then John doesn't think he will fit without any prep but he can't help but cry out when Gale slowly eases himself down onto John's cock. An embarrassing sound comes from John's mouth, something like a cry and a moan mixed together. It's slow and it almost burns with pleasure, but John relishes in the intensity of it, relishes that Gale is close to him.

Gale rides him and grinds onto him with an intensity that fogs the windows, panting and moaning as they John's hands find Gale's ass, helping him grind back onto him, cock hot and hard inside of him.

Everything that had happened that day, all of the ghosts and memories instantly melted away with Gale here, riding him in the back of his car, hot breath against each other's lips while John groans pathetically, Gale hot against him.

"Fuck, fuck Gale I'm close, please baby," John begs, and he's not quite sure what he's begging for.

Gale nods, hands coming up to John's shoulders and using the extra leverage to push himself back against John's cock faster, messy and desperate as Gale slots his lips against John's, moaning and groaning together.

John comes inside of Gale with a prolonged groan, something high and needy and pathetic into Gales lips, panting as Gale continues to thrust himself back against him until he comes on John's stomach, bucking his hips up as he stutters on a moan, tucking his head into John's neck and panting.

"Are you feeling better?" Gale asks, voice still shaky from his moans.

John shifts, pushing his nose into the pulse point of Gales neck and nods, wrapping his arms around Gales waist even tighter.

"Yeah, fuck baby, maybe we need to do this more often," John says, smiling when Gale pulls himself away from him ever so slightly, pressing a shockingly sweet kiss to his lips.

"Maybe... you don't gotta be in such a bad mood for me to do this, though," Gale says and John smiles, looking up at Gale like he hung the damn stars.

"Don't count on it," John says cheekily, pressing yet another kiss to Gale's lips.

[missmarveledsblog]

In love with its fate series and the oneshots can you do a hc or oneshot of how bradley proposed also nicknaming her sunny genius cause hes rooster and shes sunshine 😭😭😭💓💓

of course i will i touched on it lightly in Brooster but here's the full story of how brooster propose to the future mrs sunny bradshaw.

Soon to be Mrs Brooster

summary : rooster finally plans to put a ring on sunny's finger

warning : tooth rotten fluff , rooster being a simp

He was waiting for this , probably since the first moment he actually met her , talked to her.  He was ready to ask the moment their first date was ended but he bided his time much to everyone surprise bradley lasted two years before he was doing what they honestly thought was going to happen much sooner . a week back from their trip from visiting her parents and getting one of the most important yes which was their permission to ask her to be his. To finally make y/n “ sunny “ seresin his soon to be wife ( officially ) .  he couldn’t imagine his life not having this woman in his life from her laugh to her putting him and jake in their place ( he wouldn’t be surprised if mav had her on speed dial ) .  He went through so many ways to do it from writing it in the sky ,  on the beach as they flown above to even doing it in the hard deck randomly but none of that felt much right so he decided to bring it back to the first date , that night was something he would never forget he really pulled out all the stops and never stopped but that night was one both his and her favourites .  thanksgiving had just ended and christmas was now the next one , he could wait til then but he was sure he would explode if he was to do so . He had all hands on deck , from jake help as much as he love to annoy rooster he would help with anything he knew would make his little sister happy  even if that was actually rooster. 

The coming day bradley  was practising what to say wondering what would sound best but nothing was fitting , nothing stood out . then trying to get everything like it was that night felt impossible  the lights and candles seemed to needing to be replaced but yet out of stock giving christmas was the next approaching holiday . it was like everything was against the whole idea even jake was going out of his way to get what was needed. It wasn’t til the day before when nat and bob ran into the hangar panting and sweating holding boxes and bags in their hands . 

“ we got them , well nat got them , she almost beat up an old lady “ bob gulp when she glared at him. 

“ you’re welcome bradshaw also name that first born after me and we call it even”  she shrugged ignoring the look of slight fear and impressed that pete michell was giving her . 

“ not up to me but i’ll let sunny know … well if she says yes .. shit what if she doesn’t say yes” he went to from happy to panicking  in a spilt second all the nerves hitting in the one second making him to want to explode and every fear coming to the surface .  irrational fear not that he could see how much his love is returned  or how she was  just as crazy about him , no sense or reason could reach this man in the spiral of what if that spun around his head .   the face of fear and everything that was neighbouring on his face as the dagger squad offered reassurance . It was like something between the chaos and the signs of the universe  or grace of god that sunny walked into the door holding something as simple as his lunch and moment she saw him distressed and upset even not having a clue what was really going on, yet she ran to his side instantly hands on each cheek , she was speaking barely register til he saw the worry and concern all over her face .  pure love  in her eyes grounding him , melting every  bad negative feelings like a universal fate filled sign this was meant to be.  Feeling himself come back to his senses just by her touch not that it need to be said but he was truly and completely in love with this woman . 

“ brooster baby you  ok ?” her voice that sweet sugar sweet voice hitting his ears making him feel like he could breathe again .   

“ yeah it i’m ok just tough week is all “ a smile on his face he wasn’t completely lying he staying up a bit later  making sure everything would be perfect . 

“ why don’t you take rest of day off , we don’t have much to do today “ Mav smiled softly , he always did in a sense they were so similar to carole and nick in the way they were so taken with each other but yet so different in a way too. 

“ thank you pete , i’ll make sure he gets some rest “ she beamed not even waiting for her man to respond even when she threw his keys to nat . almost pulling him out of the bunker not taking any excuse that was bound to come out of his mouth nope she was not having it that’s for sure  not that he could , as much as he would work to the bone to make sure she was ok he did enjoy when she would look after him too something he had to get used to since most women before were so different  not that it was bad but it wasn’t like this . 

The day before the engagement maybe was something he needed that sort of reset and refresh now that he was looking back. But it also just made him want to do it more , it gave him the perfect idea’s that were staring him back in the face . as he sat in their shared space , their home . her little knick knacks that placed around the place , little cushions and pieces that made it a home. Something he thought he made it a home but clearly it was not like that until she came along and showed him how much of a home this house could be .   things that brighten up the area sort of like a representation of how she brightened up his life.   She busied herself while he was sitting eating the lunch she warmed up for him then once he was finished she led him up to the bathroom  only for him to see the bathroom covered in the scented candles , the scents of lavender and chamomile that hit his nose , a kiss on his cheek placing the beer on the side of the tub and heading off once more leaving him pouting that she wasn’t going to be joining him .  when he was out , clean and relaxed in every sense to see his pyjamas that he only ever wore as sort of lounge clothes .  only coming down to the living room more and more each thing she was doing was making it easier and easier for what he would do the next day .  eating dinner watching his comfort movies and comfort foods little things to put his overworked brain to rest. 

That morning rooster woke knew lease of life , knowing what he wanted to do and how to make it perfect for his girl. Letting her sleep he crept from the bed slowly got dressed headed to the cafe the one where the first properly talked got to know each other  . getting her a coffee and alongside her favourite pastry then he got breakfast on way home with her favourite flowers . waking her up with kisses all over her face looking down at  the smile on her sleepy face was something that always made his day better , if he woke in a foul mood all he would need to rectify that was seeing her smile . Then they went to the beach  like it was just a normal day but he knew it wasn’t , the dagger squad. Then for lunch he brought her to her favourite place seeing her excitement was always a highlight in his week. Then at home again like normalish  day maybe the fact he was spoiling her a little extra was there but he would shrug it off and say she deserved it  or when he told her they had a surprise date to which she excitedly expressed she got to wear the new dress she gotten the other day with nat for, one he got nat to bring her own  .  every single time she would leave him lost for words but then again it could be a potato sack and she would look the most beautiful woman to ever walk gods green earth.  

That night was like so many date only more special since it was the very restaurant they went to for their first date. She told him of her christmas plans for her kindergarteners all the fun and magic she wanted to give them before they were off for christmas as well as some plans for their own christmas like going to virginia so bradley could see his parents .

“ we can go texas for christmas “ he shrugged it  off. 

“ nah i already told my mama she got us for thanksgiving  , ok i may of booked the rental house which jake paid for  and  i will get our food in advance and have it brought with us “ she beamed. “ least this time you won’t be alone when you go and you get to spend christmas with your folks in a way “ she kissed his hand holding it close. 

“ you would spend your christmas in a graveyard just so i could have christmas with my parents?”. 

“ brooster radley bradley  i would spend christmas  in a dive bar in middle of nowhere if it was something you wanted but it not that it’s spending time with people you love whatever shape or form which is more important “ she giggled . 

“ i wish they got you meet you because jesus christ baby you are most perfect woman i’ve ever met you know that” he smiled feeling his eyes misty and lump in his throat , 

“ i wish i could of met em too , thank them for bringing such a handsome , funny man like you into the world , oh  it was suppose to be a surprise so can’t tell jake i told you apparently your not allowed to know he likes you” she shook her head wiping the few tears falling down his face  not knowing more would come then once dinner was done they headed to what she thought was the hard deck to finish the night off .  only for him to  to bring her near the entrance again tricking her then moving to toward the beach that sat behind .   the light and candle seemed even more magical she couldn’t place her finger on why but it was even more fairytale like than that night .   the add rose petal that place everywhere leading them to the sand except this time it wasn’t a speaker that await for them but a live music . he may of pulled a favor or two getting couple of people he knew could play their favourite songs .  it something she would of never experience in her life and yet with brooster radly bradley bradshaw he made those things possible .  the moonlight high in the sky hitting the water so beautifully . he held his hand out to her sway  wanting to capture the way she looked in that very moment burn the image into his mind for the rest of his life , the sound of her laugh when he twirl her around . this was it  granted he had both knees on the ground fixing himself and the confused on her face then the realisation when he pulled the ring out.

“ baby i can’t imagine what i did in this life to even begin to figure out how i got  lucky to get a girl like you in my life , ever since i was a little boy my mom told me of  soul mates , how i was going to find the woman of my dreams  and i would be so in love and i thought she finally was going off her rocker than i started seeing this absolutely breathtaking beauty everywhere and i was a goner and then i met her over coffee even though her brother warned me to stay away “ he chuckled and she shook her head but tear falling down her face . “ but i couldn’t not when i talked more and more with this beautiful way out of my league kindergarten teacher who just make the world so much better and brighter by being in it the love i have for you is the love my mom told me about all those years , the one that finally made me think i deserve love , one that without even thinking would spend her day to make me feel better or is willing to spend her christmas in a grave yard just so i can see my parents. Baby there is and never will be anyone in this world that i would or could spend the rest of my life with  than you and i don’t know how i waited so  long to do this but please would you do me the honor and marry me ?” he voice cracked looking up to see her tear filled face and smile so wide. 

“ yess i will marry you bradley radley brooster “ letting him place the ring on her finger what he didn’t expect was her to dive on him there and then excitedly on the sand kissing all over his face . “ i love you so much “ was all she could get out of her mouth before his lips crashed into hers .   he said it from day one she was going to be the future misses bradshaw and she always hope she would be mrs bradley radley  brooster .

[wazzappp]

I took a shot at writing!

Thank you to @rokhal for letting me mess with your dream sharing idea its absolutely DELIGHTFUL

And thank you to @moosemonstrous for beta reading for me. Its so fucking cool to have an author I admire so much giving me advice <33!!

Basically, RE! Robbie having Jill’s nightmare from RE3 remake, and all the consequences that follow

A loud crash of thunder woke Robbie up. He blinked a few times and unstuck his face from the desk he had apparently fallen asleep on. Again. His mouth felt unbearably dry in the way that tended to happen after a good hard sleep. At least he had a glass of water ready to help him wake up.

He sipped it and let the sound of rain pattering surround him. It was usually so quiet this far out in the woods. It almost made it hard to sleep. There was no ambient sound of the freeway, no trains passing or people talking when they walked by. No neighbors banging on the door drunk at 3 AM pleading for their exes to take them back. Pros and cons to everything, he supposed.

He grabbed the book on local wildlife he had been attempting to read before drifting off and headed to his room. His back never really hurt after falling asleep in odd positions anymore. That kinda made sense. If he could come back from a fractured arm after a few minutes, a pulled muscle or two shouldn't be anything to write home about. 

He still didn't really know how to feel about… all that. At least the only thing he seemed to do was heal fast. The black mold leaking out of his eyes and writhing around the day he found out about his infection seemed to be a one time deal, thank god. Gabe hadn't been so lucky, but he seemed to be coping with his new plant powers fairly well. Were they plants? Technically speaking, the flowers were made of mold and he was pretty sure mold was something different. Would it be suspicious for him to ask the BSAA lady for a book on fungi? He still had so many questions.

They hadn’t really talked much about each other's powers - god. Powers. What the fuck was his life - after the initial ‘bike-meets-garden’ incident. He had questions for sure, he just wasn’t sure how to go about asking them. Really, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey Gabe, I’m trying really hard to be chill about your mold minion deal, but I gotta ask; Why do you glow?’ Would Gabe even know the answer? Robbie really just hoped it didn't hurt. 

Maybe the BSAA were keeping him and Gabe to see if they could find a better cure. That seemed almost too good to be true. He shuddered at the memory of their last attempt. on the Baker Estate. Bodies shriveling up and breaking into pieces like statues made of crusted over baking soda, screaming all the while before falling mercifully silent.

He reached the end of a hallway that felt way too long and opened the door as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake Gabe. The fact that their rooms were on two different floors really didn't make a difference. He set his stuff down on the side table next to his bed before flopping down onto the mattress. God he was tired. The day felt grimy on his skin, even though he couldn't remember what he had been doing when the sun was out, and a shower seemed wasteful at this point. A little face wash and then he could go back to bed and wake up without horribly crusty eyes in the morning.

He forced himself up and walked over to the bathroom. His private bathroom, jeez, what a luxury. Turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. He felt a tickle in the back of his throat.

Robbie coughed a couple of times and felt a bit of phlegm come up. Oh, come on. Being sick with one weird disease wasn't enough? He spat it out into the sink so it could drain along with the rushing water. 

It was black.

He stared as it swirled around and around in the sink. He coughed again. More black. More and more and more until it was dribbling in an almost constant stream down his chin. Okay. Alright. This had happened once before when he first started his medicine. It had sucked but he was ultimately fine. This was probably fine too.

He met his own eyes in the mirror and tried to take a steadying breath. The mold had started dripping out his nose. His left eye blackened and seemed to deflate. Shriveling and sinking into his skull as more mold spewed out of the rotting socket like a fountain. He wheezed and slapped his hand over it to try and stop everything inside him from leaking out. 

There was a sort of snapping in his right eye as blood vessels there started to burst. The same feeling as breaking the last few nerves holding a loose tooth in. In seconds it was entirely bloodshot. His iris lightened from it’s usual dark brown to a jaundiced yellow. The same eyes covering the creature in the boathouse that called itself Jack Baker.

He stumbled back from the mirror and felt something in his jaw break loose. He reached up to try and feel what was wrong but stopped when he caught more black spreading up his hands. His scars formed deep grooves as his flesh molded over and shrunk down to the bone. It was creeping steadily up his arms, shooting through his veins like little spiderwebs, turning his skin the dull gray of a long dead corpse. He grabbed at his arms, desperately trying to stop it from spreading, only to spill more black as his new claws dug deep into what should have been skin and muscle. It didn't even hurt. He didn't feel anything except the panic presently choking him.

The endless black spilled over and dribbled into little puddles on the floor. He shuffled further away from the mirror until his back was against the wall and watched the mold spread across the linoleum as it had spread across himself. It was spilling over the edges of the sink now. Growing on the mirror. On the cabinets. On the walls. Each part of the bathroom that he made a habit out of bleaching meticulously was covered in black speckles. Everywhere he had stepped, each place his fingers brushed. Everything he touched was rotting.

There was a gun on the counter.

Something that sounded like distress came out of his throat. It was hard to tell. It was garbled and choked and chittering. Its reverberations ran deep into his chest and rattled his teeth. The sound was utterly inhuman. He forced himself forwards and grabbed the gun. He didn’t remember how it got there. Has it always been there? He couldn't remember.

His sharp fingertips were digging into what remained of the countertop, and he was having trouble fitting his claw through the trigger guard. He eventually managed. This wouldn't kill him, he knew that. But maybe it would allow enough time for Gabe to run away and get a head start before he totally lost himself. Would it be worse for Gabe to find him with a hole in his head or as a rotting husk of himself, attacking everything in sight?

He chittered again. A strip of flesh fell off his cheek and landed in the sink with a wet plap. 

Robbie raised the gun up to the side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Or eye, rather. It didn't matter. For some reason he could still see his reflection. Whatever was doing this wanted him to see it through to the very end. The teeth under his horrible red eye were starting to peek through his rapidly decaying cheek.

The bang of the gun sounded off alongside his garbled shrieking.

-

Shrieking that woke him up.

No chittering that shook his skull and disjointed jaw. Just plain screaming. He never thought he would be so happy to hear it. He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Checked his hands; no traces of black mold. Just tanned skin striped with scars and damp from a cold sweat.

He breathed a sigh of relief and let himself relax back into the twisted sheets he had apparently been thrashing around in. There was a loud thump from downstairs, like someone had fallen down, which was swiftly followed by smaller thumps. A sound he had grown to recognize as Gabe rushing up the steps. He sat up and mentally prepared to put his brother back to bed.

Gabe slammed the door to Robbies room open before he could even stand up. His eyes were red, just in the normal way. Not the nightmare red and yellow. Tears were streaking his face. He sobbed and ran at Robbie, tackling him in a hug.

“You aren't allowed to do that!” He cried into Robbies chest.

Robbie held him close and stroked his hair, “Sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can try and get some good headphones for you so it won't happen again.”

Gabe sniffled against his shirt. He adjusted himself so he could glare up at Robbie. It would be adorable if he weren't so clearly upset. 

“What? No, I don't care about that. I mean you can't do that!”

“I don't - I’m really sorry Gabe I don't know what you’re talking about.” Gabes glare got narrower. He raised his pointer finger to the side of his head and mimed ‘pow’.

Robbies spine went ridgid. What the fuck.

“I don't care how sick you get. I don't care if you heal fast. Don't. Do. That.” He felt his heart break a little. Gabe had buried his face back into Robbies shirt. That was nice. It made sure Robbie didn't have to try and hide whatever the hell his expression was.

Something repeated in the back of his head: It gave you my nightmares. That was what Gabe had said. It felt like an eternity ago but it had probably been just a little over a month. 

“I didn’t--” Jesus, motherfuck, what the hell was he supposed to do? Maybe if he just started talking, he could find the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing to say at all? No parenting manual he’d ever read had a guide for what to do if you started sharing dreams with the person you looked after. Especially horrific nightmares like the one he just had.

Breathe. Focus. Gabe is upset. You know what to do when Gabe is upset. 

Robbie pulled him closer, “It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He really couldn't guarantee that, but it had to be said for his own sake as much as it was Gabes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to see that.” I didn’t want to see it either. “I don't think that's going to happen. I think it was like your dream. You remember what I said then, right? It’s just our brains coming up with what scares us most.”

“That's what scares you?”

“Yeah. If I–--” he swallowed, “if I'm not… myself, then I can't take care of you.”

“I get it. I didn’t like losing myself either.” God, he was so stupid. Stupid and selfish, of course Gabe knew what that was like. He had been stripped of his own self control, changed on a fundamental level and had powers Robbie was too scared to ask questions about. Here he was, running away from things, and his brother was stuck paying the price for it.

Robbie tried to talk past the lump in his throat. “I'm so sorry, Gabe.” He could feel tears leaking down his cheeks. He prayed to God they were normal. “I don’t - I don't know how any of this works and it freaks me out a little. You don't scare me, I meant that when I said it, but it’s hard for me to understand things I can’t see. I don’t see stuff in my head the way you do.” He took a moment to breathe and leaned back so he could get Gabe to look up at him. “Do you think you can explain how it works to me? I think you might know better than I do.”

Gabe scrubbed his eyes and sat up. “I have an idea, but I don't know for sure. I’m really not like Eveline, Robbie. She talked like she knew how everything worked and I just don’t. I could be really wrong.”

“That's okay. I don't expect you to know everything, just do your best.”

Gabe kept his eyes down, “So, the plants and my fr- flowers. My flowers. They connect and talk to each other. You can do that with people too, Robbie. Evie used it to tell everyone what to do, but I think you can just make it smaller. Like connecting just two people.” Gabe looked up at him, “I think sometimes, in our sleep, you and me talk like my flowers. Talking without talking. Showing each other things.”

Okay. That was a lot. It made sense, it did. But accepting that would mean that his brain had been more affected than he thought, that his body was probably more affected than he thought. If they could do this, what else was possible? Knock it off. Solve the problem in front of you.

“Alright. Do you know how to stop it?”

Gabe shook his head. “No. I thought my flowers made you sick and that was why we dreamed together, but it's not that. It takes a lot to break that connection.” Robbie remembered Gabe stomping on one of his flowers until it was nothing but a smudge on the forest floor. Probably not a good method to repeat. 

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “Maybe we could just try to have good dreams instead?”

Robbie let out a short laugh, “That would be nice. I’d like to have good dreams with you. What would we dream about?”

“Hmmmmm… maybe ice skating? I can actually try it now! Ninja Wolf went ice skating before and he looked so awesome. He hopped on his swords and skated around on them, Robbie!”

Robbie would almost assuredly fall on his ass right away, but he would gladly take a dream about repeatedly slipping on ice over what their nightmares had been in the past. “That sounds nice. Do you want me to put you to bed downstairs and see if you can dream that?”

“No!” Gabe hugged Robbie tight again.

“Okay, that's okay, hey,” he started petting Gabes head again, “do you want to just stay with me tonight?” Gabe nodded and sniffled. “Alright, here let's just get a little more comfortable.”

He leaned back until he was resting just a little upright on his pillow so Gabe could lie down. His arms stayed wrapped tight around Robbies torso, like he was scared he’d disappear. Robbie shimmied the blankets up and over to cover them both.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Gabe hugged him tighter and looked up at him very seriously, “I don't care if our dreams are close. I want to be actually close.”

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. “I want that too.”

They slept dreamlessly. 

[ms-scarletwings]

The kitten chapter was particularly hard for me to get through, personally. Honestly, I don't know how the turtle bit can be so bad for anyone considering everything that preceded it and its context. Especially when it’s people who finished the book and bring it up after the fact. Like, you made it through about 12 things worse than that specific scene AND still a lot of other brutal ones to come later, and after the entire book the turtle scene was the lowest point you’re still thinking about?

I think I kind of get why though. It was one of the few animal harm depictions that genuinely involved no malice on the part of the perpetrators. It was something many of us may actually even have a comparable experience with IRL for some empathetic reference. For me that made it easier, but for others it probably added to the upset because it’s very easy to put yourself in Max or Newton’s shoes for it. To feel like you’re there helplessly watching with them. I saw what was coming with the turtle from about a mile away though, because I already understood and knew the point that scene was trying to get across. There wasn’t a single thing unexpected about how badly that entire scenario was going to go before they even caught the animal. It didn’t hit me any differently than the bird nest story did.

Meanwhile, the chimp scene put powerful feelings of dread in the pit of me though and I did have to take a break there.

That damn chimp part was placed so perfectly where it was for maximum impact, too. The shit in the plot had not REALLY hit the fan yet, but the chimp chapter was horrific in how it was used as a foreshadowing of just how dark things were about to get. The queasy pull in your body you feel on the uphill climb before the roller coaster drops. It said “here’s a scenario that is already horrific and more viscerally upsetting than you were prepared for… in a controlled lab setting with a non-human victim. Now get ready to see what happens when that cycle repeats unrestrained and onto these main characters you’ve built up some familiarity with over the story so far.”

I don’t blame a single person for picking that place to reconsider if they wanted to stay on the ride. The kitten scene actually does the exact same thing and that’s why my shock and my dismay for it did not stop after the chapter did. It’s also why I really don’t like when people criticize it as randomly inserted cheap gross-out with zero point or contribution to the story. The kitten scene was fully intentioned to stay in your mind as you directly segwayed from that flashback immediately to the present where its implications were about to be followed through. “Here’s what this monster is capable of when he has power over something weaker than himself and he has to be careful and secretive…. Now brace for what’s about to happen when he has that same power over a child (and later on, other scouts), has no one to hide from, and he’s no longer worried about being so careful.”

Cutter was insidiously effective at what he was going for and if nothing else I gotta give him kudos for that much.

I love reading impressions from people after they've finished 'The Troop'. They always fall into a few specific categories, them being they couldn't finish the book on account of the turtle chapter, or that the chapter featuring the chimpanzee caused their time with the book to come to a sudden halt.

The turtle bit didn't really tend to register with me much, but man, the chimp chapter was some of the best literature I've read this year. I would love to see more stuff like that.

[heatwa-ves]

I don't even ship this but I can tell you guys are doing it wrong

[hecksupremechips]

Honestly though I think it’s really a bad sign when I look at Shin Tsukimi and literally feel like he’s a self insert 😩

[phagodyke]

I will say while I've loved most of elden ring I'm really glad I'm down to just 2 more main boss fights (malenia + maliketh) before I start the endgame boss fights... whew 😮‍💨

[infizero]

you guys dont understand how much splatoon means to me. you will never understand

[mossterunderthebed]

Y'know what honestly frustrates me about the JJK fandom?

When people make stuff that's like JJK 0 Gojo and Getou talking or whatever, and it's like Getou being totally deadpan about all the horrible things he's doing/going to do/believes in *insert various types of wholesale murder here* and Gojo just laughs along, treating it like it's a joke and Getou's so cute and funny.

Like, no.

Gojo did NOT indulge Getou's philosophy. That was The Whole Point.

What do you think the whole encounter on the street in front of a random KFC was about? That's why there was such a deep divide between them. That's why Gojo was furious and disbelieving. That's why they didn't see or talk to each other for TEN YEARS even thought they were best friends.

Because Getou killed people, chose to kill people, and chose to keep killing people. Because he dehumanized an entire, MASSIVE group of people who were good, bad, kind, cruel, and everything in between, men, women, children, everyone, simply because of something they couldn't help and didn't even know about. Because he took advantage of those that Gojo had decided and felt duty-bound- even though he didn't like it much- to protect.

(And all that came BEFORE Geotu ever stepped into the picture. Yeah, Gojo whines about having to protect the weak and admittedly thinks it's a drag, but he still does it. He was raised with the ideal that he should do it.

That wasn't a Getou thing. Getou believing in that as a teenager did change the way Gojo saw it, but it wasn't New. He already was raised that way, believed that way, and intended to live that way, or why go to Jujutsu High at all? Even if he found it annoying, he was still always going to become a sorcerer, not only because it was kind of his only option- which is it's own kind of horrible- but because he was a sorcerer, down to his bones.

He had that madness in him, and maybe it was nurtured, but that doesn't change the fact that it was there. He wanted to be a sorcerer, loved fighting and killing curses, whether it had anything to do with helping others or not.)

I know it's just fanart and fandom, and look, I myself really like art of Gojo and Getou in their good days. They were kids and they were happy. While I don't ship them, they were best friends, and their own kind of soulmates, I've never not believed that, it's too forking obvious. Gege practically shoves it down our throats and literally designed them to balance each other and be Messed Up Forever when they split. Every official art we see of the two of them practically has them as each other's reflections. I know, okay? I can't not know.

I just get really frustrated when Gojo's disregarded like that. He is his own person with his own beliefs who's made his own choices. They both are. And maybe it's dumb to get up in arms about a story that's not even real, but Gojo's a really imperfect person who struggles and suffers, and at the end of the day? He tries his best.

Even with all the power in the world, he's still only human. He can still only do so much. He's expected to be more than he is a lot of the time, and still he really tries. He wants to make the world better. He wants to make life better for the next generation. He has, in a way, given up on himself, but he's still going, because he knows his place in the world is still one that needs filling.

That's a narrative that means a lot to me. It's disheartening when it's misinterpreted because of the fun, silly, giggly side of his personality, or the reckless, careless, cocky side, both of which are wonderfully, excruciatingly human.

That's all.