#there’s something very wrong with my brain

[simpfordin]

thanos hcs

thanos (choi su-bong) x fem!reader [au where you guys aren’t in the games]

whats good mamas i’ve crawled out of my hole to write y’all some hc’s…. and imma probably go right back in !! also please excuse my brain rot humor, it had to be done. this is mu first time writing thanos too soooooo be may be a luhh ooc. srry.

🀥 su-bong is the type that [assuming he gyatt his money up] would give you his credit card for a day so you could spoil yourself

↬“i’m gonna be at the studio all day, so take this,” he says pulling his AMEX black card out of his wallet and handing it to you, “get whatever ya want, ma.”

🀥 he DEFINITELY calls you ‘ma,’ alongside ‘señorita’ and ‘flower’ (ngl he probably would also call you ‘woman’). he mayyyy even call you ‘shawty.’ :o

🀥 he’s not necessarily kendrick or tyler level famous, but thanos has a pretty decently sized fanbase. he’ll typically sells out smaller/medium sized venues. nevertheless, he invites you to every show, and whenever you’re there, he’s sure to preform 10x more (as a means to impress you).

↬what’s more is that he WILL be giving you vip treatment. wherever you want to watch from, whether that be in the wings stage right, in the audience, or even backstage on a screen (though he prefers that you watch him in person), he will make those accommodations. furthermore, he’s going to make sure that you have EVERYTHING you need, whether it be drinks, meals, comfortable clothes, and even simply a place to charge your phone.

↬“shes coming tonight, have someone go out and get those snacks she likes,” thanos nonchalantly ordered his manager whilst scrolling on his phone. “which ones sir?” he asked to clarify. “the ones she likes.” (side note he can be so difficult and for what…)

🀥 su-bong loves to make you blush and smile, and he specifically likes it when you get shy and (try to) hide your expression from him. its literally an ego boost for him; the fact that HE can make you blush and bashful.

🀥 now lets be honest… su-bong doesn’t do very well sitting with his feelings, which is why he tends to ignore them and instead opt for drvg use, clubbing, etc. however, ever since he started dating you, he’s learned to be more vulnerable, especially since a truly healthy relationship requires not only vulnerability, but honesty pertaining to feelings and emotions. it took some work and convincing for him show you his emotional side, however he eventually gave in (since he loves and values your relationship) and found that he feels comfortable expressing himself to you (but again, he can be difficult here and there, and he’ll avoid emotions/feelings if possible).

↬”whats wrong my love?” you gently asked your boyfriend, sitting next to him on the couch in his apartment. you could tell something was bothering him, and wanted to give him the opportunity express his feelings. he stayed silent for a few moments, avoiding eye contact as you rubbed circles softly on his right shoulder. “i’m just…. i’m not feeling great right now,” su-bong reluctantly answered, still avoiding eye contact at all costs. “im here for you if you want to talk about it,” you replied, gently embracing him, his head shaking ‘no’ in your chest. it may not seem like much, but this level of vulnerability to him is exponentially more than he has ever been comfortable with, and only you get to see this side of him.

🀥 thanos stayssss on tiktok. he’s always making stupid videos for his drafts, whilst posting “hard” videos, as he likes to maintain his tough persona. he also goes live simply because he can. you tend to be a frequent guest in these lives whether you like it or now.

↬ “c’mere ma,” thanos called, motioning you to join him in front of the camera. you furrowed your brows, silently shaking your head no, having zero interest in being on his live. however he insisted, “c’mon babe, let me show you off.”

↬he also goes live with nam-gyu, here and there, and the two talk about dumb stuff and always end up bickering [its giving martin & nle vs hamzah……. hopefully that reference ain’t too specific :,)]

[amorre1989]

metal box

word count: 3,6k

about?: your sweet boyfriend forgot his lunch, and you're a sweetheart so you bring it to him.

who?: Spencer Reid; reader; Penelope Garcia; Derek Morgan; David Rossi; Aaron Hotchner; Jennifer Jareau.

maybe next time I'll write about dinner night with the team ;)

The bed felt empty. The space that was some hours ago filled with your boyfriend's warmth was now filled with wrinkled sheets. You sighted, you missed him, even after sharing the night together. The clock hit 9 am and you got up, you went directly to the kitchen just to see: the little box that holds Spence's usual snacks and a little sandwich accompanied with a note from you, resting on the counter of the kitchen, Spence would never forget something like that...is it a trick? an excuse for you to bring it? for him to go back home and to see you? (still sleeping, as usual).

"I think you might have forgotten something, baby" you texted, then deleted it. What if I surprise him? would it be wrong? out of place? maybe would it make him feel embarrassed to have his little girlfriend bringing him his lunch? as if he's a dumb lost kid. No...he wouldn't... right?

There you were, all dressed up (just in case) in front of the door of a big building unknown to you. You asked a secretary where you have to go, then followed by a little chat and her indicating the elevator where you had to get in, you got in. There you are...in an elevator... of your boyfriend's work, serious work, a work only men do, men with big brains and... beautiful eyes...and, next thing you know you're smiling like a goof remembering his face, so cute.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked good, the sunshine from the morning made an effect on you. Spence told you, once he saw you enjoying the sun on a warm day, that vitamin D helps the body to absorb calcium, which helps the bones, so now, it feels like your bones tickle every time you're under it.

A sound, a movement, the elevator doors opened, why are you nervous? this is dumb.

You walked, a little lost, looking for something to indicate your boyfriend's location.

"hello!" you turned around. A blonde, with bangs and a very colorful outfit was saying hello to you.

"hi!" you smiled "I'm looking for Dr Reid, do you know him?".

"I do! why are you looking for him?" she looked down at your hands, holding that metal box she seemed familiar with. "oh.my.god. that's Spencer's lunch box!"

You giggled, "yeah, he forgot it at home, I wanted to give it to him"

"you're- you're his girlfriend!?" you felt like she was about to throw herself at you, you smiled and nodded. "oh my god! this is so exciting!" she tooked your arm and made you walk towards a door, people were watching you, people tipping on a keyboard and answering calls.

She knocked on the door, is Spence there?

"I'm Penelope by the way" she said while waiting for someone to shout her to come in.

It clicked, of course she was.

"oh I'm sorry!, I'm Y/N, Spence has told me a lot about you, about everyone actually he tells me you're a genius with technology and-" you got interrupted by the door opening, she did.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I have a little present for Reid right behind me..." she said, you could hear her smiling. She took your hand and exposed you to what felt like the world. Then you saw him, confused, all dressed up (so cute!) a tie and a shirt, and...pants and stuff. With his hair styled as you told him he looked good!.

He smiled, blushing "hey!" he got up and stand in front of you.

"hi" you smiled "you forgot...your lunch, I'm sorry, is this wrong?" you asked. His face, so close, but perfectly positioned to allow you to notice Garcia whispering "she's his girlfriend!" expecting not to be heard.

"no! it's perfect, thank you! thank you..." he kissed your cheek. Maybe that was what was necessary to make the theories be confirmed, he kissed your cheek! you saw some eyes about to leave their respective faces, and smiles and open mouths, and a little gasp and jumps coming from, who else? Garcia.

"uhm...this is the team, guys, this is my girlfriend y/n" he introduced you, you waved along with a smiling hi, followed by a ton of hello's from the team.

"anyway" you said to Spence "that was it baby, I don't wanna bother you"

"you don't bother me..." he said, face like he was hurt by you thinking you'd EVER bother him.

"you're good! come here, sit!" you heard from who you assume is Derek. "let's have a little chat" he said taping the desk.

"oh no, please, you're working, I didn't mean to bother" you said smiling, interrupting wasn't your intention.

"oh please! when will we have the chance to meet you anyway!?" said Garcia.

"it would be more appropriate to do it over dinner" said probably Hotch, damn what a deep voice.

Spence looked at you, those eyes, god, you could eat them.

"we could...have dinner at my house if you'd like someday" you smiled "thank you though, please, I don't mean to bother" again, bother, what an ugly word.

"that'd be lovely, do you cook?" said an old man, Rossi.

"I try..." you answered. He smiled, Spence rushed to say "she does! she cooks very well, she's the one that took care of me when I had the chicken pox and only drank soup for two weeks"

"I love soup, maybe you can share your recipe for my kids" you heard from a pretty blonde woman.

"of course" you smiled. "anyway...I'll let you guys work, I'll be waiting for our dinner, nice to meet you all".

A ton of hands waved in your direction next to " "bye's" and some "nice to meet you". Spence walked you to the elevator, holding hands walking playfully.

"thank you for bringing me my lunch, babe" he said, holding the low of your back.

"it's nothing...did you actually forget it though?" you asked.

He smiled, you laughed and hit him with your elbow.

"I'm not the only profiler in the house I see" he said leaning his face close to yours, you smiled and kissed him. Again, that sound from the elevator.

"I'll see you at night" it almost felt like your body didn't want to leave his, you felt his fingers gripping the back of your sweater, you kissed him again and tried to walk to the elevator but you felt his grip on your arm, he kissed you again, then a little kiss, then you gave him another.

"I love you, thank you" he said. You waved while pressing the elevator button.

"I love you more" you said

"I love you more" he said and leaned again to kiss you one last time, you giggled and the elevator doors closed after he got his head out of them both. Your last view was him waving and smiling, that dumb smile that made you melt and feel safe the first day you saw him, so sweet, so him. As you.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird. 

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy. 

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to. 

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin. 

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead. 

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that. 

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. 

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder. 

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy. 

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit. 

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms. 

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten. 

She needed to let go of him now. 

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys. 

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach. 

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it. 

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy. 

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable. 

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite. 

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen. 

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks. 

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on. 

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart. 

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes. 

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. 

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. 

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out. 

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus. 

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit. 

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half. 

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger. 

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

 “You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now. 

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf

[girl-lostconnection]

OMG YOUR SIMON ONE WITH HIM LOVING TO EAT REMINDED ME OF THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/ghouljams/762729056884178944/making-food-for-ghost-and-silently-panicking

Coming from a place that people always say the food is unappealing or nasty, this did WONDERS, for my brain

THATS SO SIMON. I swear this man would be so happy to try new foods, gobbling down every bite, groaning on a particularly good ones😭

As someone deeply familiar with Eastern European cuisine, the way he would be so well-fed, so satisfied and so interested in whatever is cooking. Pierogi? Yeah, bring them on love. Borsch? Never tried this one before and you made it with BEEF? Love, pour the bowl, he’s going to inhale it as we speak and ask for seconds.

I’m not sure how much of a fan he’d be with pastries but he doesn’t seem like the man to ever say no to a dessert so pies and buns and trdelniks and cookies — he will try each and every one.

I feel like Simon is the person who loves food but who doesn’t have nearly enough time to try out new things so if he had a spouse/friend that would feed them things from their cuisine and introduce him to new tastes…he’s measuring the size of your ring finger while you sleep.

But yeah, Simon loving to eat and finding joy in something like that after very food insecure and impoverished childhood makes me (a person who was very good insecure and whose family treated food like there was something wrong with needing substance. Goddamn thin Slavic girl stereotype that flooded media in early 2000-2010s) feel so good.

Also thank you for sharing this piece with me! Simon eating uppppp traditional Ethiopian or Mexican cuisines…I didn’t know I needed it. But I do now.

God bless this big man and his bottomless pit of a stomach and insatiable hunger for care and homemade foods

[ghostofreach]

IM NOT DEAD🔥🔥🔥

I’m not sick and dying anymore so I’m getting back on the grind🙏🙏🙏 have an old ref sheet of my diluc redesign (with some minor changes) that I just finished (finally lmfaoooo)

This is actually bad news for me because now I don’t have an excuse to draw him inconsistently 💔💔

Ignore the misspelling. NEOW……

Anyway I’m gonna talk about his design because i can 💯

Major points/changes

- he is no longer a twig. Very self explanatory this guy has a big awesome claymore I cannot convince myself that he doesn’t have the means to swing that thing around (one handed no less)

- I darkened his color palette, but I also made it a bit warmer in nature. The pure white right in the middle is a bit distracting and I don’t think it does much to communicate his personality. It just breaks up his design in a way I don’t like.

- scars, yes, but also stitches on his face. I imagine it’s new bruises, stitches, or scabs every week. I know it makes his face just a taaad busy, but idk. Ive been drawing that headcannon for forever atp so I try to accommodate that busyness with lots of flat color by the face to balance everything out

- Just a hint of embroidery here and there. It implies culture and adds just a bit of softness to the design (most of it is on the shawl underneath the fur)

Specific details I want to talk about!

The white fur shawl/scarf/neck warmer/make up a word idk💔

- this serves multiple purposes both thematically and visually

- it creates a ‘barrier’ around his face, not unlike the protective walls that border Mondstadt. It serves to imply his personality without dialogue, a bit closed off and skeptical at first. Almost as if he is trying to shield his peripherals from oncoming foes.

But it is still a soft barrier, and can be easily peeled away to reveal a very kind person at heart.

- it emphasizes the square shape. Not much to say there. Makes his shape language a bit more interesting as well by introducing a softer shape near the top.

- looks a bit like snow, no? Almost like snezhnaya still weighs heavy on his shoulders.

- underneath the fur is a faded red shawl from his mother. The only parts visible from the outside are those golden tassels. I like this bit a lot because it implies that (in reference to the point above) he doesn’t really know a whole lot about his mother or father- it’s buried under mounds of snow. The only thing he has truly been left is their wealth. He’s gonna have to dig if he wants to know their true nature.

-it contrasts very well with the Fatui. Where the harbingers have their signature white coats with black fur, Diluc wears a black coat with white fur

The coat

- it’s wind resistant for sure but also a bit… warm. It’s very thick and long and you can’t actually see a lot of what’s underneath. He’s only showing the viewer a sliver of what’s underneath. Under the rest of the coat? It could be anything. Knives, his vision, maybe even a gun? (Correct assumptions)

-it leaves the average onlooker with a lot of questions but is also very convenient in a fight. Can’t block a surprise knife to the liver if you never even knew he had one on his person.

Miscellaneous

- layers are super prevalent in his design. Especially on his face. From the makeup to the contact, he’s trying really, really hard to convince everyone he is fine (WRONG‼️) the people closest to can tell something is off, but… who are they to say anything?

- the nail polish was initially added because I thought it was funny but I also think it could be effective as a last resort in a fight. Imagine you’re in a fight with a guy and he ignites his fingernails. Scary af.

…I realize that’s probably not possible but it’s really cool so I’m just gonna suspend my belief.

Here’s some hair stuff. I wanna write about mondstadt hair lore in my au/rewrite bc it rots my brain but I have so many wips I gotta do those first

[yeoningz]

FOR LOVERS｡ ࿔✶⋆.˚ 강태현

⧼ 🎐 ⧽ 一 pairing｡ ⸝⸝⸝ kang taehyun ✗ fem!reader genre ｡ ｡ ｡ est. relationship, smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

you've never had to call out your safeword before, but during a rough punishment taehyun takes it too far. luckily, he's right there to pick up the pieces when you fall apart.

warnings｡ ⸝⸝⸝ minors do not interact .ᐟ rough sex, explicit language, bdsm elements, established relationship, safeword use, traffic light system, aftercare, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering, degredation + dirty talk, lots of pet names (and one use of "whore" and "slut"), cuddles and kisses, sharing a bath word count｡ 1 . 8 k | ⧼ 💿⋆˚࿔ ⧽ 一 to library｡

[notes｡] this is a rewrite + repost of an old fic from last year on my old blog! i care very deeply about this cute sweet lil fic and i hope you all enjoy it for taehyun's birthday <3 caught between the pages will be finished and posted by this weekend, so look out for that! reblogs and feedback are deeply appreciated!

TAEHYUN WAS THE sweetest lover you've ever had. He just had a knack for making you feel wanted, cherished even in the simplest of moments. It was in the way that he memorized every minute detail about you; exactly how sweet you liked your coffee in the mornings, the perfect song to play when he tries his hardest to get you to dance. What flavor of ice cream was your favorite to your deepest hopes, desires and dreams, and every little thing in between. The way he would leave you notes between the pages of your books, or listen intently to your silly pointless stories, his big dark eyes like portals into his soul as he looks into yours and never looks away. He treated you as if you had hung the moon and the stars, just for him to enjoy as the two of you spend a nighttime picnic gazing up to the sky. Every day he reminds you time and time again that his heart is wholly yours.

He was a much different man in bed. Rough, controlling, mean when he's pounding away inside of you, his strong hands pinning you down and throwing you around as if you weighed nothing. He dominates you completely, body and mind, his nasty words and painful pleasure turning your brain to mush. And God, you love it— love how small and powerless he made you feel, fucked brainless, drowning out all of your worries until all you could think about was him and his cock.

Usually, when you've had a particularly hard day, Taehyun's dominance is just what you need. His big cock and his filthy mouth taking out all of your stress and leaving you sleepy and satisfied. When you had came home home from work and dropped to your knees at his feet, admitting to him that you had touched yourself on your lunch break in hopes that he would punish you accordingly, you were sure that this time was just like any other.

But something just felt wrong.

You've never had to call out your safeword before, never had it even crossed your mind in the countless times you and Taehyun had sex, but the syllables teeter on the tip of your tongue, threatens to fall from your quivering lips with every thrust of his fingers inside your sore, abused cunt.

Sparks of discomfort crept up on the onslaught of pleasure, your pussy overstimulated past it's limit— three times had he made you cum on his thick, deft fingers, and he seems to have no intention of stopping any time soon. You had told him you could take it, but now... you weren't so sure.

"Tyunnie," you hiccup, squirming underneath his broad frame as he pins you to the bed, the wirey muscles of his arms and pecs flexing from the exertion of pumping his fingers in and out inside of you. "Slow down!"

Taehyun tuts, swiftly pulling his fingers out of your wet hole, and for a swift second you breathe out a sigh of relief— but his hand quickly returns with a hard, stinging slap to your puffy pussy lips, right over your throbbing clit. You shriek from the surprise and the pain, writhing against the bedsheets and pulling hard at the ropes that tied your hands up above your head. your wrists stung from the friction, the pain clashing with the ache in your body in a way that made your head pound.

“I said don’t speak unless spoken to, whore. Stupid slut can’t even follow simple directions." Taehyun growls with a smirk, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are. What’s your color?”

He's so attentive, still completely absorbed in the scene even while checking in on you. Deep in his dominant headspace, punishing you for breaking his rules, he still always put you and your pleasure first. It makes your heart swell in your chest, overcome with outporing love, and it grounds you enough that the feeling starts to ebb away. His calloused fingertips circle your swollen pearl with practiced precision, your body trapped beneath him with one of your shaking legs hiked up over his shoulder.

“G-green.” you whimper despite your growing qualms. You couldn’t bring yourself to even call out a 'yellow'; you’ve done plenty like this before, plenty worse than this, and never once did it make you feel this way, bother you this much. Surely you could take it. You were just being dramatic. 

"That's my good girl." Taehyun purrs, his mask of anger slipping away for him to press a soft kiss to the back of your knee. He looks so gorgeous in the lamp light, honeyed abs shining, dripping sweat, that you didn’t have the focus to prepare yourself for another wet, messy slap to your pussy, this time even harder. 

It was an act you usually enjoyed, begged for even, couldn’t get enough of; but something much different than pleasure was building inside of you. Something you had never felt before... at least, not with him. Instead of hot, untamed desire, there was overstimulation and discomfort… too much for you to bear. 

You thought you would never have to say it, but one more vigorous pass over your clit has you shrieking out from underneath him, “Red!”

Immediately, Taehyun jerks back like he had been burned, dark wide in shock. “Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he gasps, his shaking hands rushing to untie your wrists from the headboard, “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, angel, where does it hurt—?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to act, but you certainly didn’t expect him to act like this. All of the color had drained from his face, his eyes wide and panicked as he struggles to calm down his breathing. Taehyun was usually so stoic, so composed; you’ve never seen him this anxious before. 

“I’m okay—“ you start, but never get the chance to finish; he gathers up your wrists in his hands and brings them to his face to inspect them for injuries, rope burn; your squirming and pulling had caused the cords to dig tight into your wrists and bite irritated pink marks into your skin. You didn't even notice they were aching until he freed them, too caught up in trying to swallow down your shock. His worried gaze is so intense it burns into your skin, sends your tummy erupting with butterflies. You can’t help but let out a weak watery giggle as he gently soothes over the marks with his thumbs. “Tyunnie, i’m okay, I promise. It wasn’t the ropes.” 

“What was it then? What happened, honey?” he presses still, angelic voice soft and gentle, a high contrast to the wild look on his face. “What do you need?”

“It was just… too much.” you mutter meekly, averting your eyes, your face hot. It sounds so trivial when said aloud— you were beginning to worry that maybe you had overreacted. Taehyun wouldn't get mad at you for that... would he?

“Too much?” he echoes, cupping your cheek in his palm. “What was too much?” 

“…Everything.” you admit after a moment of hesitation. “It was just all... I don’t know. it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Taehyun retorts immediately, his brow furrowing. Any attempt you make to soothe his worry seems to do the opposite.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, everything just felt off—“

“Hey.” he snaps, cutting you off; he bends his head to look you deep in the eyes, cinnamon honey gaze so sharp and passionate that it takes your breath away. “Nothing is wrong with you, Y/N. It’s okay for it to be too much sometimes. Don’t you dare feel guilty about stopping me.”

“Well, I—“

“I mean it. Please, baby, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

Your bottom lip wobbles a bit as you rack your frazzled brain for something to say. Luckily, Taehyun beats it to you. “What do you need, angel?” he repeats, his fingers carressing your chin.

“You.” you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Hold me, please?” 

You’re enveloped in Taehyun's thick arms in an instant, strong and warm as he cradles you against his chest, tucks your head underneath his chin so you can listen to his heartbeat. You’re completely enveloped by him, the comforting scent of his cologne, his chest rumbling when he starts to hum a soothing melody. Tears wet your eyelashes and you blink frantically to keep them from overflowing. 

“Of course, baby, I love you so much, my strong girl. Do you want me to run you a bath? We can take it together if you’d like— I’ll wash you, take care of you. I’ll take care of you all night.”

And he does.

The warm soapy bath water washes away all of your worries, leaves your mind blissfully blank as Taehyun massages shampoo through your hair; with your back pressed against his broad chest, snug in between his legs in the tub, you've never felt safer, more at home.

His princess, protected from all of the evil in the world. Her face peppered with gentle kisses when she leans her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Angel?” Taehyun asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. His soft plump lips ghost your temple, feather light against your warm wet skin. It’s difficult to focus on what he’s saying and not just the rough, husky timber of his usually light voice. 

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you stop me sooner?"

You crack your eyes open. “…What do you mean?”

“why did you push yourself like that instead of telling me right when things stopped feeling good? We use the light system for this exact reason.” he goes quiet for a moment before timidly adding “... You trust me, right?” 

“Of course I trust you, Tyun!” you rush to reassure him, the water in the tub sloshing over the rim when you turn to face him. Neither of you pay it any mind. “It wasn’t you, baby, I... I didn’t want to disappoint you. It was a punishment.”

To your dismay, taehyuns face crumples at your admission. He tucks a strand of wet soapy hair behind your ear. “Y/N… using your safeword would never disappoint me. I don't care if it was a punishment-- I want you to use it, honey. Anytime you need to. I want you to let me know how you’re feeling.” 

“…I’m sorry.” you whisper, bowing your head— Taehyun was quick to lift it back up with his knuckle beneath your chin. Looking into his big beautiful eyes was like looking directly into the sun. 

“Don’t be sorry. Don't ever be afraid to use your safewords ever again, okay?” 

“Okay.” you echo, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. “I love you.”

Taehyun presses his lips to yours in the chastest, sweetest kiss of any he had given that night. “I love you more.”

𝒯O𝔐ORROW X 𝒯O𝒢E𝒯HER 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼

@dwaekkicidal , @11vr1 , @jjunbug , @enigmaticaphrodite , @jellymochii, @mapofthemazeinthemirror, @fullbodyblankets , @hyunj00 , @yunverie, @izzyy-stuff, @arcturus444, @love-ning, @gncbnahc

to be added to my taglist, please send me an ask or fill out the form here!

[the-little-knight]

I've decided after a bit of feeling worried about the approval of my hyperfixations, I was just gonna post my Monkey Wrench oc stuff!!

Introducing Nellsey Nelsey!!

(As well as her sister, Snaillsey Nelsey...)

That's all for the moment!!

(Personal yapping below the cut)

I'm really sorry for people who follow me expecting more art recently!! I know I shouldn't apologize, but I just get really nervous posting since my account grew a lot of traction because of Pizza Tower. Which is still something I like, don't get me wrong!! It comes back in rotation sometimes!! But my brain is usually very chaotic with what is on the forefront of my mind, which leads to a lot of me just... WORRYING if people will like what I post. Which THEN leads to me not posting. Period.

People who came to my account after my Pizza Tower posts might not like Pressure. People who came to my account after my Pressure posts might not like Muppets!!! It's a WACK ASS feedback loop!!

But that's not the point of this account!! And I have art pieces I'm very proud of that have only really been seen by close online friends of mine, but I feel it's fun to share these online since this is kinda my little play corner of the internet. So, I'm going to try and post a little more, regardless of whatever the fuck comes out, and I hope yall enjoy the journey. :-)

That's all!! Byebye for now!! Have a great time of day!!

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

How do I stop getting excited about a canonically aroace character having romantic relationships? I've been feeling guilty about it for a while, but my brain, for some reason, likes him dating...

By technicality, there is nothing wrong with that. Ship and let ship, you can't control shit that people do, block at will, don't like don't read and all that jazz.

It's romance positive, I guess. And aro people can still date (but don't push that or use it as an excuse for shit, as an Aro I hate that narrative because I can also still kick your teeth in)

On the other hand, if it truly is something you wish to stop: don't read content related to him in a relationship, don't produce content about him in a relationship and try to put your own emotions onto the character.

Again, in this hand, shipping culture is sometimes very… uh… amatonormative. And I say that as someone who ships heaps of characters. (Amatonormativity is the assumption that all human beings pursue love or romance, especially by means of a monogamous long-term relationship. The term was coined by Elizabeth Brake, in her book Minimizing Marriage: Marriage, Morality, and the Law (2011).(link1))

Something I do because I am actually insane, and it's not expected of anyone to do this, I just want to share: I ship insane amounts of characters, but because I'm insane, in every piece of media I chose one character to be completely aroace/aro/ace and then everyone else (mostly) falls on the spectrum. For example: criminal minds: spencer reid is aroace, no questions and I don't ship him with anyone.

In essence: complicated issue that has no right or wrong answer

[manuellarts]

Hello hello, deidara headcanons because he's all i can think about and i cant stop yapping about him 🫶🫶🫶

this spawned because i've been racking my brain trying to get into his head and find out what happened in his past, since we don't have any canon backstory for him aside from stealing forbidden jutsu and running away

all that i had managed to get was this image of his father breaking his clay sculptures, and the fact that it had left a major impact on him. since then, i waited for more to dawn upon me

little did i know . . THAT was IT. i don't really think that he has a tragic backstory or anything, the way i see it now, is that he was always a little insane (just a little) and it's only gotten worse overtime. there was really no way that he'd live very long with that kind of mentality and lifestyle, as much as it saddens me to say it.... but just as sasori had said upon first meeting him, he just wouldn't last long

not because he lacks the skill, no. but because he is simply insane. reckless, impulsive, and completely obsessed and absorbed with himself, his art, and his vision—which i like to call vision because it is part of the way he idealizes his perception of things. the way he envisions the world and builds his perception of the world is highly idealized, and whenever the world fails to meet this idealized version of what he envisions, he immediately seeks to destroy it

if we really think about it, just.. how come that he got away with stealing forbidden jutsu? how did he know of its existence in the first place as a child? how come he suddenly decided that brutal terror was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life? when trying to answer those questions, i just realized that there was something wrong right from the beginning

i just really think that deidara has a sort of friendly façade that most of the time is not genuine .. + the fact he can switch up on people very quickly. in my views .. i really see him as someone who is very subtly manipulative, and because of the fact that he almost always is truthful, and clear about his intentions, his actual lies would go unnoticed, since yeah ! he's always truthful !

so, who was really a piece of work? his parents, or him?

i think he might've also been quite the troublesome kid behind closed doors

maybe there had always been something off about him, just not always detectable, since he'd probably passed off as a good kid in the eyes of others, but he had other plans

nothing was ever enough for him

he always wanted more

and chased his idealized visions

just how delusional can one man be ?

[cin-cant-donate-blood]

I was just gonna mumble something in the tags but I actually have Thoughts on this so here goes.

I don't care for LLM chatbots. No matter how impressive people keep insisting they are, I have always found them to be disappointing (perhaps because I am asking the wrong questions, but I don't think asking it to write a Shakespearian sonnet or remind me of a word I've forgotten based on a definition are very weird prompts, and it fucking sucks at both of those).

I do use them to gauge them, though. I am curious about what kinds of responses other people who are actively using them are getting.

One time I asked it what autistic people are like, just to see what it might be telling neurotypicals that people like me are like. It rattled off a number of broadly accurate things, but in the middle of everything it slipped in something to the effect that autistic people are not very good with art.

When I asked it about this, it immediately backed down and said I had misunderstood it, but it does bother me that it may well say something like that to someone else who knows less about autism.

These bots are known to be good at replicating human biases, so there is no doubt in my kind that it was, at the end of the day, replicating an already existing stereotype.

I think the stereotype that autistic people are on some level not well suited to make art (or even uninterested in it) is in turn by a mythical quality that I think of as "anti-intelligence", which is something distinct from stupidity.

The theory of anti-intelligence goes like this: there exists a human trait called intelligence or logicalness, which makes you Good With Math. If you do not have this trait, however, then fret not! The more Logical (capitalisation is tongue-in-cheek) you are, the less of something else you have, because Logic is the Yang to Intuition's Yin.

Intuition, or Anti-Intelligence, is a purported trait that makes you Good With People and also Artsy. Intuitive People might never be able to grasp math (and honestly, they should as well just give up on it, if you're too artsy you're never gonna be good at that stuff anyway), but they understand things Logical people in turn could never understand, like Love and Drinking Coffee With Your Friends (so illogical!)

The most snide interpretation of this that I as a stereotypically Logical person could make (my love of art and rhetoric are just aberrations, by the way: I shouldn't be wasting my time on them) is that this is all just people who are Bad With Math coping.

The stereotype also plays into pseudoscience about the hemispheres of the brain, and I think a lot of people who identify as Intuitive or Logical may do so with terminology like "left-brained" and "right-brained".

I think the trope of a Logical character not understanding social interaction is in part simply derived from the observation that Autistic people are often Logical and also struggle to understand and be understood by neurotypicals, but at this point it's become a self-sustaining cultural image that informs how a lot of Not Very Logical people think Logical people are.

I find all of this very frustrating because I don't think art or social rituals are illogical at all: they just appear to be if you are personally navigating them with gut feeling without analysing them further. A bit of gut feeling might well be necessary to do things quickly and smoothly enough (that is my main personal struggle with autism: not that I do not understand social situations but that I understand them too slowly, and my gut instinct often makes oversights that I notice a minute after I make them), but that conversation is completelt lost in a culture where Hanging Out With Friends is treated as Magic Beyond the Understanding of Those Dorky Scientists.

fish-out-of-water character in science fiction to whom humanity is deeply alien, but who does not continually get themselves into awkward social situations because they looked up Human Ettiquette For Dummies, they learned about basic human social dynamics including how humans bond socially, and it is immediately obvious to them after five second of introspection how a highly social tool-using species like humans would benefit from spending a lot of time building social ties

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[girl-lostconnection]

Adding into my last ask, do you think the helldivers would injure themselves just to get those scars back. To get any semblance of their old bodies back even if it means they’ll have to damage it themself 

YES. YESSSSSSSSS.

Yeah, absolutely they would. I think the fact that they are already less than stable doesn’t help because getting thrown into your younger body and just looking like a fucking baby, and you are spotless again — no callouses on your hands, no burns, no scars, no stretch marks — nothinggggg.

I think they 100% would because scars for people like them signify that they survived something. That very bad things happened and they still got out, that they lived a life.

So yes, they would try to get their scars back, they would try to harm themselves or intentionally get in the harms way engineering the similar environment in which they got initial scars and still it would feel wrong.

They would still feel that it’s not the same, it’s not what they need, it’s not how they remember it. They get “reinforced” and every time they come back wrong because they weren’t meant to come back. Human brain can’t comprehend something like that, it would drive them fucking mad. (That’s how reform to “reinforcement” copies was introduced, the one I mentioned in my previous response)

So again, scars mean for them experience, they mean life, they mean memories. And without scars…it feels like everything they went through was for nothing. Even worse, they start forgetting what exactly they went through.

There is nothing to remind them of it. No scars, no marks, no nothing.

[taitavva]

body swap

[beldcm]

Charlotte's words made sense. Tatum had seen it firsthand while working for the brunette. Lies were so easily spread about the actress; rumours came out of nowhere, and people simply filled in the gaps when it came to parts of her life that weren't public. There was no escaping it. All Charlotte could do was ignore it and simply carry on with her life. Tatum figured that that was easier said than done—it always was. Before accepting the job offer, Tatum hadn't really taken much interest in Hollywood. The rich and famous wasn't a crowd they saw themselves mingling in. That, of course, changed quickly; they were essentially paid to do it. After seeing how Charlotte was treated, especially by her so-called fans, Tatum had a newfound respect for those in show business. 

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Tatum kept up the light-hearted banter. It was nice to see Charlotte relax. Tatum couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness; they hadn't seen Charlotte this calm and herself in a long time. There was no façade or false persona she needed to put on here. Tatum had seen the brunette at her worst, but God, was she captivating at her best. "Just next to all your appointments, I make sure to draw tiny little stick figures or short people accommodations that they will have to make. The best thing is, now that you know, it's not like you can reach to take the diary off of me." Most people wouldn't dare to tease their boss in this manner, and usually Tatum kept their comments tame. But there was something about this setting that changed the dynamic, at least for Tatum. Even though they weren't actually in a romantic relationship, somehow the pretending was starting to blur the professional lines.

"What?!" Tatum piped up in a playfully dramatic tone. "My services are great, thank you. In fact, they are the best, the talk of the town. I've never had any complaints about my services; you've just not experienced them properly." There had been an intentional, flirtatious hidden meaning behind their words. Now that they had been put out into the world, Tatum quickly hoped that Charlotte wouldn't catch on. Tatum shifted a little, arms awkwardly folding across their chest. They had allowed things to get a little too relaxed. At least Tatum could play it off as method acting; they wouldn't be acting like the assistant/boss if they were actually engaged.

"Of course you deserve it; everybody does." While Tatum wasn't a 'love at first sight' kind of person, they definitely believed in true love. There were people out there made for you; it was just, unfortunately, some went their entire lives without finding them. Tatum was picky. There was always something wrong with the person they dated, giving them the excuse to cut ties. There's no point in settling and being unhappy, they would say as friends would roll their eyes. Tatum figured that Charlotte had very different reasonings to be put off when it came to dating. "There's someone perfect out there for you, someone who can easily handle all the glitz and glamour of the rich and famous. Right now, that person is me, at least that's what we need people to believe." A part of Tatum felt a quick spark of both jealousy and protectiveness at the thought of Charlotte dating. Tatum immediately shut the lid on that thought, pushing it back to the dark depths of their brain to never see daylight again. 

"We can do that, but nothing flashy, not in this town. We can just host something small in the barn. All my family and friends will care about is if there's alcohol involved." The people in Tatum's life were simple with simple pleasures. Box wine and cheap beer were enough for them all to have a great night that went deep into the early hours. 

As Charlotte accepted the offer of drinks that evening, Tatum adjusted their posture, straightening their back. A genuine smile plastered over their face, "the difference is while this town isn't cute, you're not boring." There had been a compliment there that Tatum hoped Charlotte would catch on to. "You really don't want to know what I got up to as a teenager. We have to leave some things as a mystery in our relationship. Now, get ready because I'm taking you out." Tatum moved towards the closet, pulling out some clothes before they left the room. Leaving Charlotte alone to get ready in private.

After showering in the main bathroom and changing into a simple pair of pants and a casual shirt, Tatum was ready. Tatum headed downstairs, waiting for Charlotte so they could leave.

tatum's question took charlotte a little by surprise — no-one had asked her that before, how having her personal information out for the world to see was something she was use to. she shook her head, "not at all. i feel like people too easily build up this image and idea of me in their heads by what they read and what they see. i think they forget that i'm just a person too." it ran far deeper than just that but she didn't want to bore tatum with her personal insecurities and as easy as talking with them felt, this was still a professional working relationship. when she had set out to follow in the footsteps of her mother, fame was the last thing she had expected. it had all been quite the whirlwind for her and she was just along for the ride. at the end of the day, she loved what she did, interacting with audiences, discussing important topics and being able to be a positive influence on others.

with news of her engagement, came the news of her sexuality, something she'd kept hidden to anyone outside her inner circle but if she was to get married, even if for a visa, she didn't want to lie about that. as expected the reactions among older viewers had been mixed but at the same time, had never felt more supported by her community. she admired tatum for the way they handled being thrust into the spotlight and the tabloids knowing they were being spoken about. charlotte knew that there wasn't anyone more capable than tatum and they proved that over and over. playfully rolling her eyes, she laughed at them, "i knew it wasn't notes that you were writing down in your diary — it's filled with comments and jokes about my height but that's okay because i'm good at this game. you tall people don't scare me." in fact, it was quite the opposite and there was no denying that she hadn't taken notice of their height difference. there were a lot of things that charlie was starting to take notice of when it came to tatum but that was not something she was wanting to admit. the banter was fun and it was nice to be able to let herself enjoy conversing with her assistant the way she was.

"i'd be willing to negotiate if you were able to prove that your services are worth paying double for. i can't just be handing out that kind of money." charlotte did her best to keep a straight face before a dimpled smile broke out over her features as she looked over at them, "i was hoping to make a good impression, i don't know if avoiding eye contact will help me accomplish that." even though she was teasing, there was truth in her words. of course she wanted to make an impression on the woman, it was just who she was naturally and this unique situation didn't change that.

"it sounds like maybe you are the one that needed security." tatum's words about dating resonated so deeply with charlie, knowing all too well how much easier it was just not to date. to instead focus on her career. it had been hard for her to trust people's intentions, work out whether or not they were genuinely interested in who she was and not just who she was to the nation. "i agree, it is easier, it's so hard to find genuine people who want to put in the effort. i know my situation isn't exactly ideal for people but that doesn't mean i don't deserve to find happiness." charlotte's words had trailed off by the end of what she had to say, shrugging, her body becoming noticeably softer speaking of love. she was a hopeless romantic at heart, a part of her that she protected from the disappointment of being let down which felt like a shame knowing how much love she had to give someone.

at the mention of tatum's friends, charlotte perked up, a smile growing on her lips once more, "we could always throw an engagement celebration, they would be more than welcome to come along, i'd love to meet them, hear all of your embarrassing stories seeing as i can't look at your mother in the eye." buying her own engagement ring felt so wrong, an unnecessarily weight on her finger. she made sure that it was nothing like what she would actually want but big enough to seem believable, to be noticed by paps. she toyed with the ring as she listened to tatum's suggestion to go out causing her to smile as it hadn't been a suggestion she'd expected, an opportunity to let her hair down and maybe genuinely enjoy herself. "i'd really like that, tatum. small and boring can be cute, i mean look at me," she teased playfully, "i'm sure you had your fair share of fun here as a teenager and i'm sure we can find our own."

[keferon]

Did you think I was done? Ahahahaha no, I have more.

Because chapter 70 of MOMU gave me the very dynamic between them that I missed so much, I just blacked out and started drawing uncontrollably lmao

Also. ALSO. I noticed a while ago that Prowl has the habit of..like…constantly frowning. So. I did a bit of research and made this graph.

In 70 chapters, Prowl frowns rougly 104 times. And the intensity of this gesture is very clearly correlated with the development of his relationship with Jazz, as you can see ahahahahah It might be wrong tho don’t take me seriously I’m not good with graphs

[equill]

Job promotion (now what?)

Comic 1: Interrogation

Caught him lurking in the background (he was being suspicious in their defense)

Comic 2: Everywhere you go.