#they say this shit for doing the most ordinary things and being a human being with fucking needs

[dykesformisandry]

I love women but the girls that are so desperate for male validation and attention just bum me the fuck out yall deserve so much better 🫶

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[giorno-plays-piano]

Her Fault

Pairing: yandere!Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: implied noncon, spiked drink, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, mention of Stockholm syndrome, Toji being a part of a gang.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Toji knows nearly everything about her. Who she is, where she works, what's her address, where she keeps her keys, the code to unlock her phone... Except for the last two things, he didn't even need to have someone to spy on her because she told him everything herself. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him, poor girl. He appreciates her lapse in judgment.

_________

"You should try something new for a change," Toji says with that smug expression on his face, making the woman next to him frown. "No offense, but those pathetic margaritas will be the end of you one day."

For a second, she looks stunned by his audacity, but it doesn't take her long to bite back at him, "Says who? The I-only-drink-whisky guy?"

He lets out a laugh at that, shaking his head. "Fair enough. How about we both try a new thing?"

As she stills, contemplating his offer, he already knows he'll win. She will order whatever he tells her to, and she will drink it like a good girl, not being able to tell the difference between the real drink and whatever concoction he will give her. Wouldn't work with a margarita she's been ordering ever since she appeared here one Friday evening.

He first saw her about half a year ago, wearing a fancy black dress and high heels like she was at the gala, not a local bar. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and she wore that classy sort of makeup that suggested she was either at the wrong place or came here straight after work for god knows what reasons. Toji had no idea why she would show up at this bar dressed that way. Did she want to get laid and didn't know how?

The guy sitting next to her at the counter probably arrived at the same conclusion but dumbly decided to chase after her in the most stupid fashion, giving Toji an excuse to send him "I-will fucking-end-you" look and flex his biceps: girls digged that shit, and he was sure she'd take the bait. Naturally, the drunk dumbass left in a second while the woman looked impressed and thanked him for help. It was only natural to strike a conversation.

Pretty much first time going to a bar, she confessed, ordering a margarita. Why? She was a workaholic and, in addition, despised drunk people who couldn't control themselves. Why did she finally come? Wanted to find out what it's like since one drink couldn't hurt that much.

He thought she smelled really fucking nice.

Surprisingly, he didn't bang her the first night because she had a way with words that made him talk more than he usually did, and, by the time she was about to leave, he didn't feel like spoiling her first bar experience. She was probably going to return, anyway. Besides, Toji didn't like feeling so much at ease with a stranger, given the specifics of his work, so he was going to ring someone he knew to do a quick check-up on her and make sure that evening wasn't some elaborately planned scheme. God help her if it was.

But she was just an ordinary woman with an ordinary job with no relation to his business, so when she came the next Friday, Toji thought it was fucking nice to actually talk to someone for once. Why not? She wasn't even looking for a hookup, just for a human company.

That time, she wore a lovely dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, too, but she wasn't flirting with him even the slighest bit. He wasn't sure if he should have been offended by her lack of interest or felt good because she wanted to actually know him.

Since then, every Friday, she waltzes into the bar in her pretty dresses, smelling delicious, lands on the seat next to him, and talks to him like he's a friend. Not once has she batted her eyelashes at him or realized he was flaunting his physique one way or the other to flirt with her. She does, however, seem interested in how he's doing without being invasive or patronal, and it's been a really long time since anyone was that close to him. It genuinely feels good to see her face every Friday and hear her voice.

Toji knows nearly everything about her. Who she is, where she works, what's her address, where she slips her keys, the code to unlock her phone... Except for the last two things, he didn't even need to have someone to spy on her because she told him everything herself. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him, poor girl. He appreciates her lapse in judgment.

"Does that guy from work still bother you?" he asks, giving the barmen a sign to make that cocktail for her and looking back at her as if he really needs an answer. In reality, he already knows she has rejected the creep, and it pleases him to no end.

"No, thank God," she huffs, wincing like from a toothache. "Why the Hell do I attract all sorts of assholes? My own damn father has been an ass to me, too."

"Huh, your father?" Toji sends her a smirk. "Got daddy issues?

He can tell her face is burning even without looking at her expression.

"Oh my God, Toji!" She slaps his hand slightly, embarrassed and annoyed at his antics. "Why are you saying it like we're in a porno?"

That gets a good laugh out of him, and she visibly relaxes, smiling, before she promptly excuses herself to the bathroom, and the barmen finally lands her drink on the counter, secretly nodding to the man on the other side. There's nothing really dangerous in there that wouldn't get out of her system in a day, but that's enough time for Toji to finish everything he has planned.

Really, it's her fault for being naive and so fucking pretty. He could have already fucked her ages ago and forgotten all about the woman, but she just has to be too damn nice for her own good, making him long for Friday night and hear her talk. Besides, what is he supposed to do when she doesn't date and doesn't see even his most obvious attempts to flirt with her? He takes the easiest way out, really.

The drugs in her drink will make her pliant like a kitten, but, considering it's her third cocktail, it'll be a piece of cake to make her believe she just got drunk and ended up sleeping with him. Then he'll explain how she confessed to him and mention he likes her too. Depending on how it goes, Toji's prepared for 2 different outcomes: one, she accepts, and they start dating before he makes his next move; two, he chains her to his bed and waits till the Stockholm syndrome or whatever this thing's called kicks in and rewires her brain. Logically speaking, he prefers the first one, but his patience is wearing thin, and now he contemplates if he should just go with the second plan, anyway.

When she comes back, her delicious scent making him hard again, Toji sends her a smug smile and hands her the glass. Whatever she does, he knows where she'll end up after tonight.

__________

Tags: @minshookie29

[cuffmeinblack]

A touch of sage

Ominis Gaunt x gn!MC

Tags: fluff

800 words

A/n: Requested by @grandeoatmilklatte - thank you! I love accidental and secretive purposeful touches too. Lots of this in Old habits with Ominis.

"oh, shit. I'm in love with you??" prompt: 9. accidental touches and then thinking about it for days.

Ominis was used to the odd brushing of hands as he passed notes, perhaps a clumsy bump of an arm as he walked side by side with his friends. His wand afforded him a pseudo-sight, like nothing he could accurately explain, but it was by no means a perfect form of navigation.

Being in close proximity to others didn't bother him. Quite the opposite, he enjoyed the occasional comforting warmth of human touch and the smell each individual had. Others often thought he had some sort of supernatural sense to know who was lurking behind a corner or approaching from behind him; in reality he was just observant in other ways.

Today, like every other day, MC smelled of sage from the sprig they always kept tucked into their pocket. An odd sort of tradition, but one they held dear as it reminded them of their mother. It was meant to ward off evil spirits or some such. As they sat next to him in the quiet library, he smiled and greeted them before they spoke, eliciting a soft chuckle from the seat to his left.

"I could never be sneaky around you," they said, shuffling in the chair to get comfortable.

"Unfortunately not, unless you start dousing yourself in Sebastian's cologne."

"I think I'll pass on that idea. Oh, do you have a spare piece of parchment?"

Ominis smiled, digging into his bag and pulling out a roll and holding it out for them. The paper was gladly received with thanks and a gentle brush of hands. He couldn't fail to notice how warm they were today, though the chill in the library offered no explanation. Fleeting thoughts of experiencing more of that heat were banished with a silent admonishment to his wandering mind.

It was utterly distracting to say the least, and the rest of his essay suffered as a result. Why had this become a particular problem? Ominis was sure that Sebastian often had warm hands, on the numerous occasions he'd touched them. His calloused palms and rough fingertips didn't quite compare to the soft skin and delicate touch of the person next to him, though.

As he packed away his things, Ominis heard the scraping of the chair as his companion stood, haphazardly throwing belongings into their bag.

"Here's the rest of your parchment back, Ominis. I didn't need all of it in the end."

Reaching out with his palm facing up, he found not the roll of paper he'd expected but the brush of fabric and unmistakeable softness of...oh, Merlin. The flesh he encountered was most definitely not a leg, and the soft gasp they emitted sent his blood rushing to his cheeks, and elsewhere.

"I...sorry," he spluttered.

"It's fine! Here..."

They placed the parchment in his hand as Ominis tried to shield his face from view, turning to pack his bag and flee the room as soon as possible. What should have been a humorous accident had left him unusually flustered. He'd have hours to unpick what that meant whilst he sequestered himself in his dormitory, possibly never to emerge again.

-

Ominis pondered what had occurred in the library for days, whilst MC was apparently unaffected, going about their business as usual as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But it had; why couldn't they see that?

As they walked next to Ominis on the way to History of Magic, sage wafting from their robes, their voice grew louder. They were talking about upcoming exams as Ominis nodded along and he noticed the shift. Their voice hadn't changed volume, they were simply closer.

Ominis didn't have time to wonder why before their hand brushed his, almost imperceptibly but nevertheless sending shivers up his spine. There it was again; that reaction to their touch that defied all logical explanation except one. Ominis Gaunt was infatuated.

"...I am a little worried about the practical exam, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes...," Ominis replied, not knowing what he was agreeing to.

His mind was in disarray, cheeks burning and heart racing. He'd barely recovered before it happened again. This time slower and if he wasn't mistaken, more deliberate. As conversation ended and silence enveloped them, Ominis finally had time to think.

He could simply choose to ignore it, for perhaps the gentle brush of skin and lingering touch was a mere accident after all. But the way their digits had glided over his knuckles, pausing at the last moment before retreating had him doubting that theory very much.

Did he want to feel that touch again? The answer was yes, and thus the course of action obvious; reaching out his hand, he made contact with his target. He brushed the soft skin, tracing their knuckles as they inhaled sharply next to him before clasping Ominis' hand. Merlin, they were holding hands. And Ominis was smiling through it all.

He gave their hand a squeeze; 'I like this'. And it squeezed back; 'Yes, I like this, too.'

[alicewhimzy]

Let me make myself abundantly clear. I do not like The Joker™ in every comic ever. Far from it.

I like Cesar Romero's '66 Joker

Mark Hamill's Justice League Action Joker

Kevin Michael Richardson's 2004 Joker

Anthony Ingruber's John Doe from Telltale's Batman

and Lego Joker from both the games (Christopher Corey Smith)

and the movie (Zach Galifianakis)

That's pretty much it.

Barring a few select moments here and there, I don't particularly care for most of the others. TAS? No thank you. Dark Knight? Nah. Killing Joke!? Get the pepper spray.

It's obvious to me that this character has slowly but surely become a vector for cheap and lazy shock value. An excuse to showcase the most revolting gorey shit imaginable and act like that says something about the character. But what I want to remind everyone is the fact that someone had to create that. Human beings, presumably ordinary people like you and I, had to think about it, write it, draw it, ink it, color it in, and print it. The dirty little secret behind all the shock and edge is he's not bad, he's just drawn that way by people working in a woefully malfunctioning machine that we call the comics industry. I think it says much more about DC as a company that they saw nothing wrong with attaching themselves to that disgusting flavor of content. This is not to say that I think that Joker shouldn't do horror or be scary, but the fact that there is such an accumulated overabundance of it, the fact that it's the only thing they seem to rely on with this clown, means that it's not just needlessly depraved, it's banal.

The "joke" has worn out its welcome, and now that the audience knows the punchline already, nobody's laughing anymore.

The so-called agent of chaos has become predictable, and I'm glad to see that more people are noticing. I prefer Jokers who aren't written that way, who can get a genuine laugh out of the audience as opposed to trying and failing to make them gag. Romero swearing by all that's funny, 2004's Joker playing the flute, Lego Joker sharing a braincell with Lego Harley, John's love of selfies, JLA's Joker disguising himself in drag just to go on a tour with NO ULTERIOR MOTIVE! Hilarious!

I want that kind of Joker back. As for the gay subtext and all that jazz, I've got a lot more to say about that in a later post, but for now I stand by what I said.

We need to make Joker fun again.

🎪🃏🎭

[late-to-the-party-81]

Suddenly I see

AN: Thank you nonnie for this request - I hope you enjoy this. I can’t seem to write anything short at the moment!

heyyy, this is my first request, i love your work!! i was wondering if you could do a blind reader or blind OC and bucky barnes. Bucky has been attempting to help her around even if she doesn’t always need it. he keeps trying and it’s dosent really go his way and he keeps just doing the wrong things but they get there and eventually they fall for each other and it ends with them trying to navigate the only thing they haven’t yet, a sex scene. sooo angsty fluff with a smut ending. thanks you much love 💕

This also fills square K2 on my BBB card - Flowers - @buckybarnesbingo

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board and banner by me,

Masterlist | BBB Masterlist

Summary: Bucky just wants to help you, but it would be better if he asked you first.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Blind SHIELD analyst Reader

Word count: 5.1k

CW: Human disaster Bucky, mild angst, fluff, Nat being Nat, miscommunication, pining, disabled Bucky Barnes, sex with banter (oral - m receiving, unprotected PinV sex)

The first time you met him, you did have to forgive him. 

Most people didn’t know how to react when they met you, not expecting someone in your…position, to be doing the job that you were. For the most part you’d given up being mad about it - people either realised very quickly that your disability didn’t affect your job at all, or they felt the sharp end of your tongue and scuttled off with their tail between their legs, so to speak.

You were busy concentrating when Nat brought him into the room where you were working, but not so engrossed in your work that you didn’t register the arrival of new people. Your fingers were flying over the keyboard, typing out your code, and you knew that Nat would wait for you to finish before introducing you to whoever she’d brought into your sanctum. You pressed ‘enter’ and turned your chair towards her and your new guest, lifting your chin and tilting your head to the side as if regarding them - an action left over from when it made a difference.

“Hey, Nat! Good to see you. What brings you to my neck of the basement? And who’s the fresh meat?”

You grinned at the same time that she chuckled. 

“Do I need an excuse to come and spend time with my favourite Oracle?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“I’ve told you before - I don’t know the future. I’m an ordinary human, just like you.”

She snorted at that, and you heard her pull over one of the other chairs before she dropped down into it, settling behind your right shoulder as you resumed typing.

“Nothing ordinary about you. And speaking of which, I’d like to introduce you to Bucky.”

Oh! That’s who it was.You’d heard of Bucky, Captain Rogers best friend, released from decades of Hydra brain-washing, but this was the first time you’d been introduced. You spun your chair back towards where he’d been standing when he entered and held out your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and you heard the tiniest exhale off to your left.

Shit!

“I’m over here, doll.”

You turned your chair more, grateful when Nat moved out of your way, and stood up, taking a step closer to where Bucky had spoken from.

“Well, you move as quietly as they say. Normally it’s only Nat who gets the drop on me. If you hadn’t guessed by now, I’m blind. And don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” You heard Nat’s muffled giggle, confirming your suspicion that Bucky’s mouth was flapping up and down with the apology he was about to make lodged in his throat.

You held out your hand again and gave him your name. “But Nat, here, calls me Oracle, because of my knack of interpreting intel and predicting likely scenarios.” His hand, warm but calloused, took hold of yours and gave it a gentle shake.

“Ummm, nice to meet you, Oracle.” 

You could feel the awkward tension in the air, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“Let me get this out of the way, and then we can move on, okay? I was born sighted, but was diagnosed with a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa as a child, which meant that I slowly lost my vision over time. I became completely blind about 18 months back, but I remember seeing. I know what colours look like, animals, etc. I learnt to touch type as a teen, and although my keyboard does have Braille on the keys I don’t really use them. I manage just fine. FRIDAY reads back my code to me, so I can spot errors, I have my cane and I have Jimbo.”

“Jimbo?”

Aha! So the famed former assassin hadn’t noticed everything.

You gave a quick whistle and felt Bucky start as your faithful companion uncurled himself from under your desk where he’d been sleeping and came to stand at parade rest by your right leg.

You crouched down and gave him a pet, and in return he booped his nose against yours.

“This is Jimbo. The best seeing-eye dog ever. Aren’t you, boy? Yes you are!”

You stood back up and made your way back to your chair, Jimbo returning to his sleeping spot now that he realised his services weren’t currently required.

“So that’s me. I’m damn good at my job, and I promise that you’ll never have to worry about any mission information that you get from me. And if you can’t trust me, trust Nat. I’ve never steered her wrong.”

“Ummm. Good to know. I… ummm… if Nat trusts you, then I do too. And it was good to meet you… and Jimbo… but I… uh… gotta go. So… see you later, Nat? And again, nice to meet you, Oracle.” 

His footsteps retreated from in front of you and you heard the sound of the door opening and closing before Nat burst into a fit of giggles. You turned your chair towards her, crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really Nat? You didn’t let him know in advance?”

“Hey, it’s not my story to tell, it’s yours. And besides, I wanted to see what you made of each other. Suffice to say, I wasn’t disappointed.”

“It’s a good thing I love you, Nat, otherwise I’d have to sic Jimbo on you.”

Nat moved towards you, and must have crouched down from the way her hand brushed your knee. You knew what she wanted. You scootched your chair back to allow her to reach under your desk. A satisfied huff from Jimbo let you know that Nat had found the sweet spot behind his right ear.

“This sweetheart? I’m more scared of you than I am of him.”

“Damn straight!”

After your less than stellar introduction to Bucky, it seemed that from then on you kept bumping into him. Or rather he kept bumping into you. Literally.

You were making your way back to your office from the bathroom, cane in hand, although you knew the route like the back of your hand, when something caught on the end of it, sending it flying out of your hand. A heavy body then crashed into you, pinning you against the wall.

“Shit! What the fu… Oh. it’s you! Sorry. Sorry.”

Oh, god!

“Bucky… could you get off me please?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes. Of course… umm.” 

He pushed away from the wall, and you sucked in a deep breath. Boy, was the guy heavy. Part of your brain decided to tell you it was the right kind of heavy. You told it to shut up. 

Bending down you reached out your hand to find your cane, only to find Bucky’s hand - he was obviously trying to help. His fingers closed over yours, and you turned your head upwards in reflex.

“Bucky, you are not my cane. Do you have it there?”

“Yes… umm.. Yes, of course. Let me, just…”

Without any warning you found yourself jerked back to your feet. The sudden movement unbalanced you and your free arm flailed, searching for purchase. Which it found by curling into the fabric of Bucky’s top, bringing you flush up against his chest, pressed to him for the second time in that many minutes. That part of your brain started clamouring for attention again. It was telling you that this was actually quite nice, and that Bucky smelled wonderful. Then, to add insult to injury the rest of your body started to join in, a gentle throbbing starting from between your legs.

Jesus, you needed to get laid, or at least find time to schedule some ‘self-care’, if you were reacting like this to a frankly frustrating man you’d only ever met twice.

You pulled your captive hand free and let go of his shirt, smoothing down your own top to cover your discombobulated state.

“Well, thank you, but I was capable of standing back up myself. I just need you to pass me my cane.”

“Oh, right. Hang on.” You felt the movement of air on your face as he quickly ducked away, and then he was back by your side, pressing your cane into your hand.

“Can I… umm… walk you back to where you were going?”

“Well, I do know where I’m going - I’ve worked here longer than you but, sure, you can tag along. Just going back to my office.”

“Sounds good!”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He sounded like an eager puppy. Maybe he wasn’t so bad… no scratch that…

You were just about to set off walking again, when Bucky threaded your left arm through the crook of his right. You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes. It was obvious he meant well, but by the same token, wasn’t used to being around someone with a disability like yours. You lurched forwards as he set off walking, effectively dragging you along with him.

“Bucky! Stop! Wait!” He came to a halt and you bounced off his, very muscular, arm.

“What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you when I bumped into you?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that it’s actually harder for me to walk with you pulling me along like this. I need to walk at my speed, and use my senses. I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of navigating the couple of hundred yards between the bathroom and my office. I do it every day.”

“‘M sorry. I just…” You held up your hand.

“... wanted to help? I get that, I do. But if I need help I will ask for it. Assuming I need help is ableism, pure and simple. I may be blind, but I’m not helpless. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I’m already behind schedule.”

As you strode off down the hall, your cane moving from side to side in front of you, you did feel a bit bad for chewing him out. He did mean well, after all, but you’d had your fill of ‘helpful’ people - people who saw a problem that they had to solve for you, instead of trusting you to sort it yourself.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear the dejected sigh from behind you.

It would have been alright if that had been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Bucky seemed intent on helping you every chance he could. Unfortunately it just kept going wrong.

Like at a mission briefing when you were making your way to the table. You pulled out your chair and went to sit down, but suddenly it wasn’t there and you were landing on the floor with a shout.

What the fuck?

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. I just pulled your chair out a bit further to make it easier and…”

You gritted your teeth, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne and what it did to your equilibrium as he helped you back up.

“It’s fine, Bucky. But I was okay.

Like the time he accompanied Nat to see you in your office. He’d said hi, but nothing else, leaving Nat to check some mission intel over with you. But then you heard the tell-tale sound of hands patting thighs, and Jimbo brushed past your legs, followed by the sounds of canine mastication.

“Umm, Bucky… Are you feeding my dog?”

All was silent apart from the sounds of Jimbo snacking.

“Errr…”

You pinched the brow of your nose and tried to ignore the tremors of suppressed amusement from Nat next to you. You strode forward and somehow managed to swipe the offending bag out of Bucky’s hand.

“I thought he might like a little treat for being so good…”

“And that’s very sweet, but he’s not allowed treats when he’s working. And even if he was it’s good manners to ask. He could be on a specialised diet or something. If he gets an upset stomach, not only do I have to deal with being without him while he recovers, I somehow have to clean up doggy diarrhoea, which I can tell you isn’t fun when sighted, let alone blind.”

“Doll, I’m…”

“Yes, Bucky. I know. You’re sorry… You always are.”

You turned your back on him and went back to your chair, tucking the doggy treats into your desk draw and going back to your conversation with Nat. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice when Bucky slunk out. Nat, sensibly, didn’t say anything.

One thing about working for SHIELD was that for those that wanted, you could have accommodation to live in on site. You’d jumped at the chance - anything to do away with an annoying commute. You just had to walk from the main building to the apartment block.

Jimbo sat down at your side as you let go of the handle of his harness, and pulled your key from your purse. You opened the door and signalled for Jimbo to go in, then closed it behind you and hung up your purse, keys, cane and coat, before removing your faithful companions' reflective harness.

“Good boy. You did so well today.”

You walked down your hall and into your open plan living room and then halted as an unexpected smell assaulted your nose.

Flowers?

How and why were there flowers in your apartment?

“FRIDAY!” You called out the AI, a little louder than necessary.

“Yes, Oracle?” 

Damn Nat. And damn Tony.

You let out another sigh. You seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“Are their flowers in my apartment?”

“Yes, miss. Roses and carnations. A large bouquet on the dining table. The roses are blush pink and the carnations are red.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“And did Sergeant Barnes put them in here?”

“He did, miss.”

You stalked back towards the door, grabbing your cane, coat and keys.

“And does Sergeant Barnes live in this complex?”

“He does. Would you like to know his address?”

You thrust your arms into your coat and pocketed your keys.

“If it’s not too much trouble, FRIDAY. I need to give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Sergeant Barnes’ apartment is 2C.”

Okay, so one floor up and third apartment along. Not quite overhead of you.

As you opened the door you felt a nudge to your leg. Jimbo.

“Good boy, but stay. I’m sure I can make my way upstairs.”

You gave him a pat and then walked out of your door.

You hadn’t been on the other floors of the apartment block more than a handful of times. Nat always came to you if you organised to hang out, and you worked mostly on your own, not having really made friends with many of your co-workers. However, you found your way to the elevator and rode it up to the next floor.

You knew that apartment C should be the second on the left hand side of the corridor, so you walked along that side, and used your cane to identify the first, and then the second door frame. Squaring your shoulder and mentally preparing yourself, because you didn’t really like confrontation, you raised your hand to knock and brought it down… on nothing.

No. Not nothing. A person. Bucky. You were confused.

“Why is your door open, and why are you standing in it?”

“Heard you coming, doll.”

“Oh…”

You could swear you almost heard the smile in his voice. Shit! Your hand was still on his very warm, very broad chest.

“You wanna come in?”

“What? Oh, yes. Thanks.”

You snatched your hand back to yourself as he stepped back and you walked through the door, using your cane to work out where he was.

“Can I take your coat, and cane? This apartment is set out the same as yours, more or less, and I can help you to the couch?”

“Umm, sure.” 

God! He was being so nice and considerate, which was going to make this more difficult. You could feel your frustrations evaporating by the second, and damn it, you wanted to stay mad.

You passed him your cane and shrugged out of your coat, then waited patiently for him to escort you. He moved to your left side, and this time he waited for you to start walking, gently steering you around his furniture until your hand made contact with the back of his couch, allowing you to find your own way onto it. As you settled onto it, feeling the soft leather under your fingers, you felt the other side dip. Bucky was sitting next to you, on your right, but not too close.

“So, what can I help you with, doll. Can’t say I expected you to turn up at my door.”

“Bucky, you broke into my apartment and left flowers in it.”

“Well, I realised I’ve been a bit of an ass, and wanted to apologise. And you never let me actually say the words.”

You sank back into the couch and mulled on what to say.

“You gotta realise that since I got this diagnosis when I was five, before I even understood what it meant, I’ve had people saying sorry to me all the time, and then trying to help me. Over and over and over. Running roughshod over my autonomy because I happen to have a disability. My brain works fine. I manage just fine. It’s just so frustrating and it’s hard for those without disabilities to understand.”

The silence between you stretched for a few moments, before Bucky started to speak.

“I…” You cut him off.

“Don’t you dare say it!”

Then you heard something you hadn’t before. A chuckle. Bucky’s chuckle. 

Deep. Velvety. Downright sinful.

“Wasn’t gonna, doll. But I did want to show you something, so to speak.” He took hold of your right hand with his own. “Can I?”

You nodded, wondering what he meant, but it all became clear as he raised your hand and placed it on his left shoulder. You could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt, but where it should have been stretched over his upper arm and bicep it in fact hung loose.

There was no arm there.

Your mouth dropped open and you whipped your head up towards him.

“How did I not know?”

Your words were a strangled whisper, and full of shame.

“Dunno, doll. It’s in my file. Although I do have a prosthetic. A very fancy one at that. It gives me more than normal abilities, but I will admit, like any other amputee, when I get home, I like to take it off.”

“Nat never mentioned it.”

“Like she never mentioned you being blind to me?”

“Oh…”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew what it was like to be bombarded with questions about something so personal.

“Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, you know where I am.”

“I do, doll. One floor down and to the left.”

Your hand was still on his shoulder, and you felt a little awkward.

“I… well… I was wondering, could I feel what you look like? I mean, if you don’t mind?”

He picked your left hand up from your lap and lifted it up towards his face.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Go ahead.”

You placed both your hands on top of his head, feeling his hair. It felt long; tied back.

“What colour is your hair?”

“I’d say brown, but Nat says it’s chestnut.”

You hummed as you trailed your fingers down, finding his brow and sweeping your fingers over his eyebrows and round his eye sockets and cheekbones.

“And your eyes? What colour are they?”

“Sorta blue-ish grey, I suppose.”

There was hair on his cheeks and jaw, long enough to feel soft  against your sensitive finger tips.

You realised you were finding it hard to breathe. There was a tension in the air between you, a tension that you knew had been there from almost the beginning, but that you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Your fingers moved towards, and then traced across his lips. They felt plump, albeit slightly chapped and you found yourself wondering how they’d feel against your own. With your left hand still on his mouth, your right trailed over his chin, feeling a small divot. You smiled as you imagined using it in order to grip him, hold his face still.

You were just about to pull your hands away, when Bucky reached up again, and held your left against his lips, so he could press small kisses to your fingertips. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m gonna say it, doll. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such an ass, and that I didn’t listen to you. I was stupid because I was trying to impress you. I wanted to show you how good I’d be for you, because almost from the first moment we met I was totally enamoured. You’re so smart, and confident, and I just felt useless. And then every time I tried to help I made it worse. Nat had to give me a talking to because I was just making a fool of myself.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks at his words.

“Bucky, I…” but it was his turn to cut you off.

“So, I’m saying sorry, and I hope you can give this one-armed super-soldier a chance to show he isn’t an ableist ass, because I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to burst out of your chest, and you could no longer resist what your body and mind was telling you to do. You took hold of his chin, just the way you’d imagined a few moments ago, grabbing his attention.

“You’ve frustrated me from nearly the moment we met - I hope you realise that. Gotten under my skin in a way I couldn’t describe. I didn’t know why. Well at least, not at first. Every time I wanted to chew you out, I also wanted to kiss you. For trying so hard and so earnestly, but still getting it so very, very wrong.”

“You could kiss me now?”

Your lips twitched. “Smooth, Barnes. Smooth.”

“I like to think so…”

“Shut up.” You broke out into a full smile as you pulled him towards you by his cute chin until your lips met his.  

It was everything you’d imagined in your private moments. The warmth, the restrained passion. Everything.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, strands coming loose from his ponytail. His arm was wrapped around your waist… and when and how had you ended up on his lap? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to keep kissing you. When he finally pulled his lips from yours you ducked your head down to his neck, wanting to keep any kind of connection. It was like a dam had burst and you had no way of stopping the flood.

“Doll, you gotta stop. Please. ‘Cause I’m dying here.” He was panting. You could taste the sweat on his throat, feel his pounding in his chest, feel the firmness at his groin.

“You really want me to, Bucky? Or do you want me to help you dig your grave?”

“Oh, fuck, doll!”

In one swift movement his arm shifted to cradle your ass and he stood up. Your legs clenched around his waist and your arms went around his neck.

“I got you. I got you, doll. Just moving somewhere more comfortable, if that’s alright with you?”

“Sure is. I need space so I can ‘take a look’ at the rest of you.”

It was only a short walk to the bedroom, and he placed you, oh so reverently, on the bed. You pulled your top over your head and shimmied out of your work pants.

“I have no idea if this underwear matches - I was in a rush this morning.”

There was a rusting sound and the mattress dipped. Bucky took hold of one of your left hand and pulled it down so you could touch his, now bare, chest.

“You look like a million bucks, doll. Now, I gotta warn you. I got some pretty ugly scarring going on here.”

You brought your right hand up, and lightly stroked over the left side of his chest. You felt the edge of the scarring that started just above the nipple, raised and hard, which led up to cool metal which covered all over the shoulder area.

“Is this what your prosthetic attaches to?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, when it was first done, the people doing it weren’t concerned with the aesthetic of it.”

“Good thing I’m blind then. I don’t care.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re incredible, doll.”

“And so are you. Now lie still, so I can take a good look.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your hands roved over the rest of his body, feeling where his chest hair grew in patches around the scarring. When your palms brushed over his nipples he gasped and you felt him shift beside you. Impishly, you did it again, grinning when he let out a warning growl.

You took the hint, however, and continued your explorations, discovering the solid plains of his abdomen and feeling the strength within his core. No wonder he’d been able to lift you so easily, even with the help of his super-soldier serum.

When you finally ‘saw’ his cock, your hands gently learning the size and shape of it, every vein, every sensitive part, you heard his laboured breathing as he tried to control himself under the sweet torture of your touch.

“You’re so pretty, Bucky. I wonder how you taste?”

You bent over, and licked a stripe up the length of him, revelling in the sound of his indrawn breath. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but muscle memory was your friend. You traced the contours of his cock with the tip of your tongue, tasting the sweat, the musk, the essence of him, before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh, God! Doll! I wasn’t lying. You’re killing me!”

You pulled off him with a pop.

“Don’t resist it, Bucky. Give yourself over to ‘le petit mort’.”

You returned to ministering to his cock, sucking strongly on the tip of it, while stroking the shaft with your hand. You teased his slit with the tip of your tongue, then swirled around the head. His whole body was trembling with tension and you could feel how wet you were, how aroused you were by the power you held over him.

“Doll, I’m gonna cum! Fuck!”

You wished you could see Bucky’s face as he came, but instead settled for reaching up to twine your fingers with his. When his hips twitched under you, you hollowed your cheeks, and took him as deep as possible, moaning low in your throat as he spilt down it. 

You continued to suck and stroke him through his orgasm, until he shifted under you, sitting up and dragging you up his body. You straddled his lap again, pleasantly surprised to realise he was still hard, pressing up against your heated core. He kissed you, licking into your mouth, either not caring about or enjoying the taste of himself on you. His hand pulled at the fastener of your bra, but this was obviously something he couldn’t do one handed, so you reached behind you, quickly releasing the offending garment and discarding it.

“I need you, doll. I need to be inside you.”

“Please! I need you too!”

You didn’t want to pull away from him, even to remove your panties, so you pulled the flimsy fabric to the side, before taking hold of him and guiding him to your entrance.

Bucky let out a gasp and fell back onto the mattress as he started to slide into your heat. Your hands went to his chest, looking for stability and leverage as you moved yourself up and down, drawing him into you, inch by glorious inch.

It felt so fucking good! The stretch, the slight burn. And you were also certain that it wouldn’t matter how long it had been since you’d last had sex, this, with Bucky, would still be mind blowing. His hand was on your waist, helping to keep you stable as you moved. You were so fixated on how he felt inside you, that it took you a few moments to realise that he was talking to you.

“You’re fucking glorious, you know that? I swear, tomorrow we’re gonna do this when I have two arms and I’m gonna take you apart. ‘M gonna fucking feast on you.”

You laughed and tossed your head as you continued to ride him. “Is that… fuck!... a promise?”

“Sure is! Gonna help you remember what stars look like.”

“Get that hand on me and you can help me now!”

“Yeah? You close, doll? I fucking hope so, ‘cause I swear ‘m gonna cum again, any second.”

Bucky moved his hand from your waist, sliding it between you and searching for your clit. You gasped, the bundle of nerves so sensitive, so engorged you knew it wouldn’t take much to make you…

You let out a loud whine, your body clenching down on his cock and your fingernails curling into the flesh of pecs as the pleasure washed over your body.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck! So beautiful when you cum. Gonna fill you up… you’re gonna have me leaking outta you for days…”

His words were cut off, becoming a shout as he came. And, fuck, he hadn’t been joking. You could feel him pulsing inside you, feel the warmth of his cum filling you, and then leaking out of you, coating your thighs. It felt as though your orgasm just kept going as you rode out the aftershocks, jolts of pleasure continuing to shoot through you, just as you thought there couldn’t possibly be any more.

Eventually they stopped and you slumped forward onto Bucky’s sweaty body. His arm came around your waist and rolled the pair of you to lie sideways on the bed. Your eyelids drooped; you were so tired. You desperately wanted to sleep but…

“Jimbo!”

You tried to sit up, but Bucky urged you back down.

“It’s okay. You sleep, okay, doll?” I’ll pop down, take him outside then make sure he has his food, yeah? Then I’ll be back, ready to sleep next to you, all night long. That sound alright?

You smiled softly, high on dopamine and sleepy as hell.

“Sounds perfect, Bucky. Thank you for helping.”

“No problem at all, doll. No problem at all.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[fearandhatred]

what are your favorite good omens fics??

WOO REC TIME thank u for asking!! you may want to ask again after i've finished my resolution of reading all my mutuals' fics though because i've barely had the time to read anything these past few months... so i don't have much bookmarked lol but here are a few anyway! (from earliest read to most recent)

-----

mourning doves by sleepyimpulse (Words: 22,686 Chapters: 7/7)

“I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious. (Aziraphale falls, post season 2)

this was one of the very first good omens fics i read and one thing about me is i LOVE this type of angst. so so good and such a nice exploration of crowley's struggle with what forgiveness is. gorgeous and so angsty. have i said that already. angst galore

say yes to me (i've got my eye on you) by thehappyyears (Words: 11,983 Chapters: 1/1)

It’s a pleasant evening much like many pleasant evenings this month, so Crowley doesn’t expect anything unusual when he makes himself comfortable on his side of the couch and lets Aziraphale select the wine. Which is why he’s resolutely caught off guard when Aziraphale disappears into a backroom, which Crowley always assumed was a wine cellar, and then turns around, darkness behind him and low, warm light gilding his hair and making his eyes bright. He’s breathtaking, he’s so beautiful, his eyes are so dark. “Crowley,” he breathes. Or, Crowley and Aziraphale have sex.

this is THE epitome of service top crowley. all hail service top crowley. also it's just so well-written and seamless. also i don't want this list to be too long so if smut is your thing then i recommend literally anything by focusfixated or zehwulf or Ineffably_Yours

Zmija by Himitsu_no (Words: 3,185 Chapters: 4/4)

He'd sigh in annoyance and hide his face in the angel's chest. "Said if they lived longer they'd have more time to become nasty and corrupted little shits, do all sorts of evil deeds and the likes. They never questioned it and went as far as warn me in advance of all the bigger natural disasters." Aziraphale would laugh and his fingers find their way into the red locks with practiced ease, and he'd bend to kiss the top of his head. "Did they do that, though? The evil deeds." Crowley would smile despite himself, eyes closed and leaning into the caress. "About a dozen, maybe. The rest were just... ordinary humans doing ordinary stuff." There'd be a long pause in which the angel would take it all in, and the demon would replay many of it in his mind with unease. Then Aziraphale would speak again, voice barely a whisper, "How long were you in Mesopotamia after the flood, my love?"

yeah i have this in my bookmarks but i have not touched it ever since i read it the first time because. it hurts me :) idk if it's because of my mommy and daddy issues but the whole crowley being good with kids tropes makes me so sad. and also this fic is just. devastating to me. i really should leave a comment but i don't want to read it again fr

when i knew love’s perfect ache by sugarskulled (Words: 1,834 Chapters: 1/1)

A demon can't touch that which has been made holy by God. Crowley knows this well as anyone. And Aziraphale? Aziraphale is so holy it burns.

this is definitely one of my favourite good omens fics of all time. angst again and so bittersweet i think about it so often

better to read and eat cake in a Soho bookshop than to reign in Hell by Kaesa (Words: 35,717 Chapters: 5/8)

When Aziraphale flees Heaven with the Book of Life, he's planned for it -- he's alerted other angels stationed on Earth to Heaven's plans, and asked them to take steps so that humans won't get caught up in the inevitable battle he faces with the other archangels. But Crowley shows up too, and he doesn't know the plan, and in the chaos Aziraphale leaps in front of a terrible blow meant for Crowley. And so, still very angry with him, Crowley must get him back to the bookshop (which is full of annoying angels) and help him heal, and try to figure out how to move past their previous fight, because, sure, he's mad at Aziraphale, but he doesn't want him to die. But soon enough it becomes clear that Aziraphale isn't necessarily dying. He is changing, and no one quite knows what to expect, because this situation has only happened once before, when Supreme Archangel Lucifer Fell and became Satan.

this fic has everything tbh and it's one i keep coming back to. the smut is great AND well-written and besides that the plot itself is so good??? the writing overall is just gorgeous tbh. slight body horror too :) the moment this updates i will be all over it like a rabid dog

Dear Angel by crowleys_bentley_and_plants (Words: 3,379 Chapters: 13/?)

A collection of emails addressed to a certain Aziraphale, found on the computer of a lonely demon.

poetic and hard-hitting and interconnected and also tells a story. through emails!! also the last lines of every chapter always knock me out lmaoo

to hold you like a bouquet by gravitron (Words: 10,676 Chapters: 1/1)

Crowley and Aziraphale, as told by history’s flowers.

can y'all read this fic oh my god i'm gonna fight everyone. so so beautifully written and well-structured. you know what i'm just gonna copy and paste part of my comment on here because yeah: i love your writing it's just. The Way Yo uWrite. The Words. your way with words. etc. and some of your sentences have a directness to them that's so effective. and the way you incorporated the flowers into every part of the story is like... so tastefully done I'm obsessed

[positivelybeastly]

X-Force #50

All right, well, we finally did it, gang. We hit the big 5-0, and it's all done. And guess what?

It's all up hill from here! Wednesday spoilers below the cut, and . . . quite a lot of rambling? If I'm honest?

So, we open up on X-Force trying to kill good Hank and Simon, because they are dumb, despite Kid Omega and Sage asserting their genius. They blow up their little gay boat of love, and our intrepid heroes get pitched into the drink.

So . . . this is . . .

Why is Simon wearing a rebreather/oxygen tank?

Dear reader, I implore you to open this link, and scroll down to Simon Williams' powers and abilities.

Immortality: Williams is functionally immortal. Because of the ionic energy that empowers him, he no longer ages and is immune to disease and infection. This same energy sustains Williams' physical vitality far more efficiently than the biochemical process that sustain ordinary human life.

Self-Sustenance As a result of his transformation he no longer requires food, sleep, water or oxygen to survive. Simon is now a fully energized entity who can sustain himself indefinitely without nourishment, easily able to live outside habitable planet orbit.

Benjamin Percy, writer; Drew Baumgartner, Assistant Editor; Mark Basso, Editor; Jordan D. White, Senior Editor.

All four of these men are incapable of Googling basic facts about a character that Marvel has owned and been using since the 1960s. Basic facts that are available if you do so much as a basic skim of the man's Wiki page.

So, why is Simon wearing a rebreather/oxygen tank? So that evil Beast can destroy it and send Simon up to the surface, and good Beast and evil Beast can talk uninterrupted. That's the only actual reason. This is laziness from both an editorial and a writing standpoint, since you could have easily just had evil Beast use some kind of gadget to achieve the same effect, but don't worry! This won't be the most egregious lack of attention to detail this issue!

Yaaaaaay . . .

"My Beast," huh, Simon?

Gay.

Also, this scene makes X-Force look fucking pathetic, because Simon could literally wipe the floor with every one of them and not break a sweat. Simon 'my fists are LITERALLY as strong as Thor's hammer' Williams has nothing to fear from fucking Omega Red. His pacifism is the only thing keeping you from looking even stupider than you already do.

Orchis attacks to give the rest of X-Force something to do. I don't care.

But we do get this funny fuckin' shit.

Tie him up?

Logan, did you forget the last time you fought Simon? Or the time before that?

Anyway, the Beasts talk. It's not a particularly interesting conversation, for the most part.

God, this plan is just so fucking stupid.

But.

There is one moment that actually kinda works.

It's really funny to me that two of the worst Beast writers of all time, Brian Michael Bendis and Benjamin Percy, both managed to grok this essential fact - Hank McCoy loved being this version of Hank McCoy.

He was happy.

He was comfortable.

He was loved.

Feline Hank, as much as I love him, as much as he's my favourite iteration of the character, was never happy in his skin. How could he be? It wasn't something he chose, it was forced upon him. To save his life.

Well, what if he didn't want to be saved? What if he felt his life was so miserable that he might've thought, perhaps I should just let it all end?

He had moments, sure. But he never really escaped this feeling. This fear, this anxiety, this trauma, this pain. He carried it with him for the rest of his life. Just constant trauma, death, misery, regret, mistakes, chances not taken, failures.

But he would never be the same again. It's funny. He's the version I love most, but he's the version of Hank who could never love himself.

Which . . . is partly why it bugs me when people say Hank has internalised mutantphobia. Like, he kinda does, but I honestly don't really feel like it's quite that simple. He's comfortable in his simian form, he loves it, he only very occasionally angsts about it, he is happy. It's when he turns feline that he hates his mutant 'gift,' because now he has to worry about what might come next.

This is not the same as, I hate my mutant powers because they make my life inconvenient, because it means people hate and fear me. He can deal with that. He's been dealing with that since he was seventeen and nearly beaten to death by an angry mob for saving a child.

This is, I hate my mutant powers because they are turning me into something less than human or mutant. Because I am a danger. Because I am in danger.

And his fears are validated. He nearly kills Blindfold and Armour. He eats Logan's leg, tastes human flesh. He spends the last seven issues of Whedon's Astonishing X-Men with the taste of human skin and meat on his lips. How the fuck is he meant to be happy like this?

Anyway, back to X-Force. The two Beasts fight. Orchis shit happens.

Fuck off, Logan. Stop acting like you're at all relevant to proceedings.

Gay.

"X-Force ain't the ones you root for. But we get the dirty jobs done."

You didn't fucking do anything.

Hank and Simon could have fixed this entire mess without you. The only reason you were fighting a Sentinel was because you drew it to your location with your jet, firing at a gay little blue man and his fruity ionic boyfriend! You didn't contribute anything!

And then, as if to cap it all off . . .

What a self-aggrandising load of wank.

Hey, what was Colossus' plot arc through this series?

He spent 5 years being mind controlled and killed his girlfriend.

What was Domino's plot arc through this series?

Well, she got hurt a lot. There was that one time she got skinned. That was fun.

What was Laura Kinney's plot arc through this series?

There were entire issues where she didn't speak a fucking word.

You had.

50.

ISSUES.

And this is the best you could come up with?

"The plan was always for the war without to lead to the war within these two characters."

Is that why Wonder Man was more important to the climax of your book than Logan?

Go step on a fucking Lego, Ben.

This was allegedly a run all about black ops wetwork, the sacrifice of your soul to the harsh work that protecting your country requires, the inexorable slide towards moral degradation that comes from compromise.

It ended with a blue man in a stupid plant suit sacrificing himself to save a D-list actor from a bomb that would have crushed Mars into a pocket dimension, all so that his clone can go and become roommates with said D-list actor.

Ben Percy, of all the writers the X-office has welcomed into its midst, you were certainly one of them.

I just . . . this was what was worth jettisoning 40 years of Hank McCoy's personal history for? This cockamamie bullshit? This excuse for you to whip your dick out and pretend you're Larry Hama, when you can barely measure up to Chuck Austen?

Also, Jonathan Hickman, you're kind of on my shitlist for this, too. You may write a halfway decent comic book every now and then - and make no mistake, they're mostly halfway decent, I think he scrapes greatness with his ideas, but his execution is. Dry.

But that's better than his eye for talent, clearly.

I hate being negative. I feel guilty every time. I don't enjoy it. I hate to dwell. I hate to spiral. I hate to obsess over things.

But X-Force is just . . .

X-Force was, just shit. I will go to my grave telling anyone who'll listen that it's not worth reading.

"It'll read better in trades!" No, it won't.

"It has such a good team!" If you burn a pie made of good ingredients, you still have a burnt pie to eat.

"The art is so good!" And if you put sprinkles in a toilet bowl, it's still a toilet. It just looks prettier now.

Oh, and just in case anyone from Marvel ever reads this - they won't, they only hang around on Twitter so people can jerk off about the panels they write explicitly to be shared by the X-stans - I've pirated every comic I've read in the last 10 years. Every issue of X-Force? Pirated. All these caps? Pirated. Every time someone asks me where to read comics, what to read? Pirate links.

I didn't pay a dime for this series. I still feel like I got ripped off.

I almost can't believe it's over . . . what am I going to do with my life now that I don't have X-Force to complain about?

Oh, yeah. I can just read good comics. Nearly forgot about that.

But hey. That leads me to . . . I don't know, I guess, the end of an era.

Because Hank didn't get his memories back. Maybe he will in the future, but I don't have faith that there's anyone at Marvel that feels this strongly about Beast, so I doubt it. I need to write this down, anyway, for the catharsis. It'll help me say goodbye.

Rest in peace, Hank McCoy, 1985-2018.

You were the Beast I fell in love with. You were the man who taught me to be gentle when the world was unkind. You were the man who taught me that sometimes you don't have to love the body you're in, you just have to want to keep on going, because it can get better. There's always that chance. You were the man who led me to my boyfriend of 12 years, who I love more dearly than anything else on the planet. You were my friend when I didn't have many, and you've helped me make a lot of friends I quite appreciate. People I'm proud to know.

You're gone now. A lot of people aren't going to mourn you. They don't appreciate what was lost. But that's okay. I'll tell anyone who'll listen how brilliant you were. I'll try not to hold it against the version of you I'm left with, that he isn't you. He was you once. He could be like you again. Maybe better. I'd like that. I hope that's the case.

I'll keep writing you. I honestly don't think I could ever stop.

I'll try my best not to be sad that you're gone.

I'll try my best to instead be simply glad that you happened.

I'll give the past its due.

Which is all you can do, in the end, for the dead and for the past.

Well.

That, and live.

[shadowqueenjude]

Jassa wedding!

This takes place AFTER my story where Lucien loses his shit and does something crazy!

Epilogue --> 2 years later Lucien imagined this would be the first time in history Prythian ever hosted a wedding between two humans.

He chuckled at the thought, knowing Tamlin would be proud. He had always been a radical; hosting an all-human wedding seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

He wondered what his people would think of it. That their new High Lord of Spring had two humans for best friends, and that he was going to be the best man at their wedding.

He imagined many people wouldn’t be happy about it. Well, they were just going to have to deal with it.

They weren’t any ordinary humans, anyway. They were now the Queen and Prince-consort of the human lands. Once Vassa obtained her freedom, it didn’t take long for her to kick her fellow queens to the curb. She was a badass like that.

And finally, after two years of Lucien telling the two idiots to just get married already, they’d finally agreed on one condition: Lucien had to host their wedding.

Lucien had planned on doing it anyway, but he pretended to be all hung up over it for a little while.

And now he stood beside his best friend, Jurian, who was waiting for Vassa to come down the aisle. His silver wedding outfit would’ve been very grand if it weren’t for the gigantic eye woven into the middle of the dress robes. Jurian had insisted on it, saying it was destiny that he get married with a gigantic eye on his clothes since he was an eye for 500 years and his best man had lost an eye 50 years ago, both to the same woman. Lucien had shaken his head, but he couldn’t deny it was absolutely hilarious. Lucien had added a little magic to the eye, so all the wedding guests were extremely uncomfortable because the eye moved every once in a while. Lucien had to resist the urge to laugh every time he looked at the eye.

Marigolds and dahlias lined the aisle. Lucien had insisted on no roses, considering how the last wedding went; they were cursed to him now.

“What do you imagine her dress looks like?” Jurian muttered to Lucien from the corner of his eye.

Lucien snorted. “You say that like I don’t already know what it looks like.”

“What? She showed you?”

“No. But I’m not so easily foiled.” Lucien said, winking at Jurian, who scowled. “Fuck off.”

“Who’ll be your best man, then?”

Jurian opened his mouth to reply, then his jaw dropped as he stared at Vassa.

Her off-the-shoulder dress was exquisite; Lucien had made sure of that. Layers upon layer of orange tulle flowed around her, and wings sprouted from the back of the dress. A costume for a firebird. Lucien had made sure to put a tiara in her hair as well so that no one forgot her queen status.

Jurian’s eyes just about popped out of his skull. The scent of his arousal clogged Lucien’s nose. “Dude, calm down. Think of something nasty. Like being an eye for 500 years.”

The arousal instantly dispersed. “Thanks, bro,” he muttered. “Don’t mention it,” Lucien said.

Vassa reached the end of the aisle and took Jurian’s hand. The priestesses began their prayers, and Lucien’s eyes drifted to his mate and wife. Elain beamed at him from the front row. She looked lovely in a simple floral lavender dress. To her right sat Nesta and Eris in matching green robes. To her left sat Feyre and Azriel in Night Court black.

“You look handsome,” Elain mouthed at him. Lucien blushed.

Soon the prayers ended and Jurian and Vassa began their vows.

“Jurian, I knew you were an idiot from the start,” Vassa said. “But your idiocy grew on me. I find it amazing that you were imprisoned by Amarantha for 500 years and you never broke. You’re so strong, and even though you suck at most things, you’re an incredible general and king. Most importantly, in my toughest moments, when I was imprisoned by Koschei, you stuck with me through it all. So, you fucking idiot, I love you.”

Lucien resisted the urge to snort, but Jurian actually had tears in his eyes. To each their own.

“My beautiful Vassa, you flounced into my life after my 500 year imprisonment and absolutely turned my life upside down. I don’t know where I would be without you to humble me at every turn. Even though you were imprisoned by a death god, you never broke, and the moment you got free you kicked your fellow queens to the curb, and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. So, my firebird, I love you too.”

Lucien looked away as they kissed, focusing on Elain instead.

Elain blew him a kiss. Lucien grinned like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He never thought he could be this happy. He only wished Tamlin was still here to see it.

Lucien waited for his cue. Vassa tugged on her ear, and Lucien set the edges of her dress on fire. A true firebird. Vassa grinned as the fire set off her fiery hair, tied back in an elegant ponytail. Jurian’s eyes were starstruck as he gazed at her. Lucien smiled.

Soon, it was time for the best man’s speech. Lucien cleared his throat. “When I first met Jurian, it took all of my self-control to not rip out his throat.” Jurian grinned. “I never would’ve expected that soon after that we’d be best friends. It was the worst time of my life. I’d been kicked out of two courts, and I would always be an outsider in the other. I fell in with Jurian and Vassa, who also had no family of their own. And we made our own family. The sexual tension between these two fools was crazy, but they were so stubborn they wouldn’t get married until I agreed to host their wedding. So, here we are. All hail Queen Vassa, and her prince-consort, Jurian!”

The crowd cheered. Lucien’s heart soared.

Everything was starting to settle down now. Prythian was becoming the place it always should’ve been.

Tamlin’s dream would live on.

[broken-clover]

Sometimes I'm normal and sometimes I think about how Ky has never really gotten to live a normal life and the one time he tried to it was ripped away from him by the conclave and maybe that's why him and Dizzy bonded so quickly because they were both denied basic life experiences due to circumstances beyond their control

Ky is such an intriguing character to me. Because there are stretches of time wherein I'll not forget him per se but he tends to slip a bit into the background for me, aND THEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS AND THEN I BECOME THE MOST UNCHILL ABOUT KY KISKE BECAUSE I'M SO MAD ABOUT HOW SHITTY HIS LIFE IS.

KY JOINED THE MILITARY AT AGE TEN. HE JOINED THE MILITARY AT TEN YEARS OLD. THEY MADE HIM INTO A WEAPONS PRODIGY AT FIFTEEN AND MADE HIM AN INSPIRATIONAL FIGURE EVEN BEFORE HE WAS DONE WITH PUBERTY. KLIFF WILLINGLY AND INTENTIONALLY RETIRED AND PUT A SIXTEEN YEAR OLD BOY IN CHARGE OF THE MILITARY TO WIN A WAR NOBODY HAD SUCCEEDED IN DOING OVER A HUNDRED YEARS. I DON'T CARE IF HE WAS A PRODIGY HE WAS A CHILD, OF COURSE HE DID AS HE WAS TOLD WHAT OTHER CHOICE DID HE HAVE AND KLIFF WAS THE CLOSEST THING TO A FATHER THAT HE'D HAD SINCE HIS PARENTS FUCKING DIED AND KLIFF JUST UP AND LEFT KY WITH ALL THE WORLD'S BURDENS AS A FUCKING TEENAGER AND EXPECTED HIM TO BE OKAY.

OF COURSE HE'S STUBBORN AND COMBATIVE IN THE EARLIER GAMES THATS LITERALLY ALL HE'S BEEN TAUGHT HOW TO DO OF COURSE HE CAN'T RETIRE AFTER THE WAR OR FIND SOMETHING QUIET HOW CAN A MAN BUILT TO BE A SOLDIER JUSTIFY HIMSELF WHEN THERE'S NO BATTLE TO BE FOUGHT AND OF COURSE THE VERY SECOND HE MAY BE ABLE TO THINK THAT HE COULD LIVE QUIETLY AND MAKE SOMETHING LOVELY THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS OR WAR AND HE GETS A GUN POINTED TO HIS FAMILY'S HEAD AND FORCED TO HAVE THE WORLD PUT UPON HIS BACK AGAIN WHEN JUST FOR A MOMENT HE THOUGHT HE COULD FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING ELSE. HE DOESN'T EVEN CHASTISE HIS OWN SON OR TRY TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF BECAUSE HE KNOWS FULL WELL NOW THAT NOBODY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT HIS OPINION OR WHAT HE THINKS UNLESS IT'S HOW TO WIN A WAR AND NOW THE WORLD IS CONSTANTLY WATCHING HIM AND SCRUTINIZING BUT NOBODY IS PAYING ATTENTION BECAUSE HE'S SIMULTANEOUSLY THE WORLD'S BRILLIANT STRATEGIST KING AND ALSO A SURLY CHILD WHOSE OPINIONS THEY CAN IGNORE WHENEVER IT SUITS THEIR MOOD BECAUSE TWO DECADES HAVE PASSED AND HE'S STILL NOTHING MORE THAN A PUPPET TO BE TOSSED AROUND AND SUMMARILY DISCARDED AS SOON AS HE ISN'T USEFUL ANYMORE.

KY KISKE IS 30 YEARS OLD. BARELY. HE'S BEEN CHEWED UP AND SPIT OUT PRACTICALLY NONSTOP FOR TWO DECADES AND THE FACT THAT HE HASN'T BECOME A GENOCIDAL VILLAIN ON ITS OWN HAS TO QUALIFY FOR SOME KIND OF SAINTHOOD BUT HE STILL FUNDAMENTALLY BELIEVES IN OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR NEAR-ENDLESS CAPACITY FOR GOOD DESPITE BEING SOMEONE WHO IS FULLY AWARE OF AND HAS WITNESSED SOME OF THE MOST HIDEOUS ASPECTS OF HUMAN NATURE FIRSTHAND.

We could debate their relationship from every angle until the cows come home but I can't help but feel that for Ky there was some blessed relief in meeting someone who never expected the world from him and never say him as the war hero child prodigy, just an ordinary man.

[thedreadvampy]

fuck me so the migration bill passed in Commons yesterday.

still gotta go through Lords so it MIGHT get slightly defanged but let's look at how well that worked for the Police, Crime and Sentencing Bill last year which passed into law despite native public outrcy with most of its anti-protest and all of its anti-Traveller clauses intact. and there's not been nearly the same degree of concerted protest against this one yet.

in a bid to """""""stop the small boats"""""", the bill will:

Override the rights enshrined in international law to seek asylum, instead prioritising the Home Office's new legal duty to deport any undocumented migrant to concentration camps in Rwanda. yes I said concentration camps they are mass internment camps for a specific group of people to be incarcerated indefinitely without trial. that is what a concentration camp is. here's home secretary Suella Braverman laughing in front of the "estate" built in Rwanda to house deported asylum seekers

allow for indefinite detention of children suspected of being undocumented until they can be removed to the Rwanda camps. Tory rebels said 'could we not have to review that after 3 days to justify their detention?' and the Tory government said 'no but if we pass the bill we pinky promise that we'll think about maybe adding in an indefinite review period at some point' so it passed.

remove temporary protections allowing people claiming they've been trafficked as slaves to stay in the UK while their case is reviewed, and to recieve some support and leniency if it's found that they are Literally Here As Slaves. that's off the table in this bill, if you get trafficked to Britain as a slave who give a shit it's off to Rwanda with you buddy. even former PM Theresa "We Have To Create A Really Hostile Environment For Immigrants" May was like hey steady on there lads. that is incredibly specifically going to make preventing modern slavery way harder because who the fuck is going to come forward and say "help I'm being enslaved and trapped against my will in bad conditions in an unfamiliar country" when the thing that the government will do with that information is trap you against your will in bad conditions in a different unfamiliar country? NOBODY IS GOING TO DO THAT meaning that victims will be penalised in law for being victimised and traffickers will face even fewer consequences. which to be fair is the Tory playbook.

it's fucked. it's fucked and I feel so sick about it and so afraid of how overtly fascistic and genocidal this government continues to get.

meanwhile their new voter ID laws are in place and they've already been caught lying to voters in high-opposition areas by sending out flyers from party HQ claiming you don't need ID to vote. which you now do.

it's very bad lads. it's very very very very bad.

in the past 24 months we've seen a constant flow of legislation targeting Gypsy/Roma/Traveler communities, migrants, LGBTQ+ people (particularly trans people), disabled and chronically ill people, and protesters and dissidents. meanwhile we're in our biggest cost of living crisis in 45+ years, protections for the poor are being stripped and national services are being privatised.

the best case interpretation as far as I can see is that they expect to be ousted in the next General Election (but that isn't until 2025) and are getting everything they want to do in terms of attacking human rights and wellbeing as far as possible so that the next government will struggle to roll them all the way back

the thing is though that Labour are just nodding along with all these policies and are in the process of aggressively removing the remainder of open leftists from the party's core power structure, having already removed the ordinary membership's ability to guide party leadership or policy, and the SNP, which has often lately been the only meaningful opposition party in Westminster, is in freefall and on fire over an embezzlement and corruption scandal. that plus the voter suppression laws and control over media that the government are wielding FEELS A LOT LIKE even if we make it to the 2025 election we might still get another Tory term.

Winter of Discontent...2!!!! has been something of a damp squib - there have been widespread strikes but little obvious impact. this winter felt like the time things were gonna snap but I'm just not sure we're ever gonna snap hard enough.

Idk I feel sick as a fucking dog. I don't know what to do. If anyone knows of any ways to help (in Edinburgh, I can't travel easily out of the city) with the Migration Bill situation or with stuff more broadly, hmu. I'm pretty well tuned in on trans rights and abortion rights protests but I don't have connects for most other stuff.

[theafictionado]

Okay, I’m never actually going to write this (for reasons I’ll go into in a moment) but do know that a few years ago I was playing with a fanfic idea where a glitched out Holy Grail manifests in rural New South Wales. An ordinary teenager just trying to scrape by ‘til graduation in this tin-pot dairy town is out on a beer run for some crappy country high school party when two supernatural beings crash through the bottle’o wall, one with a spear and one with a pair of shiny, impossibly fast pistols. She survives being caught in the fight but inevitably ends up on her arse looking up at the glowing gunslinger, who says something about being a Heroic Spirit needing a Master. Our heroine then replies “Yeah nah, get fucked”. Nonetheless, she’s dragged into this battle, and the adventure begins from there.

I had most of a cast of Servants laid out: some smartypants mage decides to summon Ned Kelly--an Australian Heroic Spirit if ever there was one, and who is naturally depicted as a hot lady--before remembering that Ned Kelly was famous for being an outlaw who embodies the quintessential Aussie lack of respect for authority. Summoned as the Archer, Kelly has a degree of independence but ultimately needs a human to keep her anchored, hence going “wait, shit” after breaking her own contract, then reluctantly teaming up with our country town hero in the scene above. Since Ned Kelly’s homemade armour is so famous (to the point where a lot of art just depicts the armour, and it’s way more recognisable than his actual face despite photographs of him existing!) the armour would be constantly on, but invisible, in the same way that Arturia obscures Excalibur. Plenty of potential here for dramatic reveals, not to mention the Themes and Motifs. 

I also liked the idea of each Master having a kind of disjointed cultural relationship with their Heroic Spirit, e.g. a young mage who’s grown up as part of the Greek diaspora in Australia summons a hero from Ancient Greek legend; a character whose noble family fled Russia during the revolution (and hasn’t lived there since) summons a staple of Russian folklore like Baba Yaga (as Rider, you know, for her walking house). These old stories are part of these characters’ heritage, but the versions that exist in lore and legend are unrecognisable from anything they’ve known due to the passage of time and the transformation of culture through the immigrant experience. I thought that could be a fun thing to play around with, you know? Especially with the Australian setting.

I also messed around with the idea that someone summons what they think is a Valkyrie (back before they turned up in FGO!) but, in a third act reveal, turns out to actually be Loki in disguise. Loki would be Very Gender and extremely fun as an amoral pseudo-villain who gets into some cheeky chats with Ned Kelly about the way humans mythologise their troublemakers while also shooting them down.

Oh! It was also going to be gay. At least, in terms of the rowdy teen heroine having a female love interest (in the form of a traumatised but deeply powerful girl from an abusive, traditional mage family. She was gonna be full of plants. The heroine was going to throw it all away and go feral to save her in the end, probably punching God in the face to do it. Do you see what I’m doing here? You gotta have the archetypes).

Anyway, while there were some Cool Ideas floating around here, I ultimately shelved and buried this thing. a) it was going to be a SUPER research intensive project, not only in reading up on the myth and history to get the Servants right, but getting my head around the intricacies of Nasuverse worldbuilding not only enough to understand it but enough to mess with it in way that would be satisfying to the reader. These plot bunnies were bouncing around my head when I was in the middle of my Honours year, and heading towards my doctoral studies, so unfortunately, much like real bunnies in Australia, they were deemed an invasive species that would suck up too many of my resources. 

And I was alright with this, because b) I realised that the thing about Fate that makes me want to write fic is its characters, not its world. So staying in the world but taking the characters out felt... well, not like my kind of creative direction. And I would need bucketloads of passion to get me through this thing, because naturally as the story of my very own Grail War it would need to be at least novel-length. And not a thin novel, either...

I thought to myself “If I’m going to do this much worldbuilding and develop this many OCs for a novel-length fic, I may as well be writing my own original fantasy novels”. Which I’m doing! Some ideas that started here have ended up being folded into other, more successful projects. My interest in exploring a trickster god character flowed right into my PhD work, which is largely about trickster god characters; and I’ve nicked and repurposed a few other elements, too, like the idea of a mage family who get their mana from a freaky symbiotic relationship with plants that they grow in their own body. I feel like my angry, take-no-shit, typically Aussie Ordinary Heroine--the girl I placed in Shirou’s archetypal role--will wander into an original project too, since she has a lot of presence and I think would be really fun as a protagonist. 

Anyway--I’m not going to come back to this, but the idea echoes in my brain every now and then, so I figured I’d share it here. What do you all think? If you could devise your own Grail War from the ground up where would you set it and who would you throw in the ring? 

[zap0ch0s]

Fugitives AU headcanons

So, remember this?

I wanted to do headcanons for this AU cuz I have nothing else to do, but well here you go

and well, disclaimer below

TW: blood, death, murderer, gore, hardcore topics, bad curses

please have discretion before reading

Ryo>

Full HD image srry

Quick fun fact: Ryo is an OLD OC who had several facets in his character construction, first he was an older brother in a family of 7 or 8 brothers and then a guy with a harem of demon girls, time passed and I forgot this character, until the AU suddenly came up and I decided to use Ryo again for this AU.

✂He is not even human, he was created as a living voodoo doll in a satanic ritual with the ability to feel and think like a normal and ordinary human, but that took development, Ryo was molded as a male figure to camouflage his true appearance, his The creator constantly took him to the outside world so that he could understand it a little better. As time went by, Ryo began to understand his environment and understand humans, but his ability to feel needed to be reinforced, because the only thing Ryo felt in that world. stage of his life was curiosity.

✂Having said a little about his origin, let's talk about his past, Ryo was just curious about everything, so sometimes he ran away to interact with humans. By doing so, he began to feel happiness and began to make friends, but that happiness wouldn't last quite a long time, since his creator was a murderer without being caught, so one day he started using Ryo to kill people, even some of his friends, let's just say that Ryo's creator didn't treat him very well either, in fact He treated him like shit, if Ryo didn't obey his creator's orders, he was beaten immediately, if he didn't satisfy his interests, he cut off some limb and left him like that for a week or two, until Ryo got fed up and tried to kill his creator by setting fire to him and the place where they both lived and went to make him life independently, the fate of his creator is unknown.

✂Taking into account that he is a living voodoo doll, if Ryo harms himself, he harms another human being that Ryo can think of.

✂He doesn't have a specific age, mentally he is 25 years old, but his physical appearance does not help much, since he looks like a 17 year old teenager.

✂He's pretty smart, but he's very naive.

✂By being able to rebuild his life, Ryo became a happy and enthusiastic person, making new friends and experiencing both good and bad things.

✂Unfortunately, by living more bad experiences than good, he became a more shy and insecure person.

✂He is bisexual, but he is philophobic.

✂His philophobia is due to the fact that love hit him in the balls many times, 3 times with shitty friends and 5 times with love, he was in three groups of friends who treated him like shit, and in love he did worse, his first partner took advantage of Ryo's hospitality to steal money from him and buy drugs, the second partner cheated on him with his "best friend", the third partner was a manipulative and jealous person, the fourth partner took advantage of his kindness and abused Ryo on many occasions, physically and emotionally, and also, he only wanted him to satisfy his sexual desires (be careful, Ryo accepted only so as not to receive an insult or a beating), the fifth couple abandoned him when Ryo needed him most, and so Ryo promised himself that he would never fall in love or deepen a friendship again.

✂He doesn't like the cold or the heat.

✂He lives alone and only has a Siberian husky named "Juju" for company.

✂Work as a barista at a Starbucks.

✂He knows a lot about general culture and video game culture, which has caused people to call him a "freaky".

✂Although he is philophobic, he wishes with all his heart that someone truly loves him and loves him.

✂ahh, but if he feels like he's going to fall in love, he gets hysterical and rejects his emotions (who understands that poor guy?).

✂ Emotionally sensitive (quite a bit in fact...).

✂He ​​knows that sooner or later he must heal his emotional scars, but he's afraid.

Dolph Lazerhawk:

It'll sound somewhat complicated or confusing, but since it is not known if there will be a second season of this series (yet), I had to put everything to my imagination to add the first three main characters of this series.

⚙He died? he survived? I don't know, the thing is that as you know at the end of the last episode Dolph is on a game over video game screen, BUT, with the detail that it gives you the "continue? yes or no?" screen. to which Dolph selects yes, which gives me the impression that Dolph could return, well, while we wait for the second season, let's assume that he did returned, as soon as he was able to escape from the Wasteland to rescue Bullfrog, his robotic arm was screwed and barely had any strength, luckily Bullfrog found him and took him away from the wasteland and a little to the outskirts of Eden.

⚙He still thinks about what could have happened to Marcus Holloway, but he still plans to one day destroy Sarah Fisher.

⚙He will look like he doesn't give a shit about everything, but deep down he genuinely cares about those people with whom he rarely empathizes.

⚙Gay 🏳‍🌈 (hell yeah💅).

⚙He likes drinks from other countries, especially if they are cocktails or alcoholic drinks.

⚙He still has a hard time trusting people, since after being betrayed twice, he doesn't easily trust anyone (except a little for Bullfrog).

⚙He is strong-willed, but can be a little emotional at times.

⚙To recover a little physically, he does a daily exercise routine.

⚙As the days went by, he learned to get over what happened with Alex.

⚙He tries to gain confidence in Ramón, since he still doesn't know that Ramón gave up on Eden after learning the truth.

⚙Also, he tries to get along with him only because Bullfrog trusts him completely.

⚙He is the strongest of the trio (that is, him, Ramón and Bullfrog).

Bullfrog:

🐸It's like the emotional and moral support of the trio.

🐸His favorite flavor of juice is orange.

🐸He has tried to get Ramón to stop taking drugs, and so far it worked.

🐸He is the most agile and fastest of the trio.

🐸Desmond Miles was his mentor, but he was executed in live in the electric chair.

🐸He's still a little emotional about what happened to Peyj', Jade and Cody Rhodes, so he always tries to protect the only two people he has left by his side.

🐸Perhaps the kindest of the trio.

🐸He is quite understanding of his group and cares a lot about his comrades.

🐸Always tries to prevent Dolph and Ramon from starting to fight.

🐸Over the days, Bullfrog has begun to have feelings for Ramón.

🐸If there is something that hurts him, shits him, lascras him and excretes him, it is that you mess with him and his comrades, apart from making fun of him.

🐸Every time he thinks it's necessary to lighten the atmosphere, he puts some music.

🐸Bullfrog knows about Ramón's probable insomnia.

Rayman/Ramón:

💥Since they left Eden, Ramón is still a little mentally damaged.

💥Although he has stopped taking drugs at Bullfrog's request, he still cannot give up alcohol.

💥Emotionally vulnerable.

💥He is easily irritable.

💥Every time he bleaches his hair to a platinum yellow color so as not to show his natural blonde.

💥He is closer to Bullfrog since he was the only one who opened his eyes to the real Eden.

💥He is pessimistic.

💥His entire vision of the world is broken.

💥The only thing worth it to him is Bullfrog.

💥He still has hope that things can get better.

💥He has quite eyebags because he has trouble sleeping.

💥His eye color changes depending on his mood.

💥There are times he cries while he sleeps.

💥Even though Bullfrog always asks him to, he can't get along easily with Dolph and always wants to beat him up.

💥Over the days, he has started to have feelings for Bullfrog, but he doesn't know if Bullfrog feels the same way about him (don't worry buddy, I'm sure he does).

💥He is the strategist of the trio.

Fakeman:

Or raymesis, whatever you want to call it, but I call it Fakeman

Be careful that some data may change as the AU plot progresses (when it comes out, obviously 😳)

🎙Obviously he doesn't know that he is a mere clone of the original Rayman.

🎙He brushes his hair every moment to make sure it's "perfect."

🎙He is quite vanidous, or he always puts on perfume when going out, takes care of his hair with special creams or brushes his eyebrows or does all of them.

🎙He can be a damn diva when he puts his mind to it.

🎙He has no filter to speak.

🎙He's not that different from Rayman/Ramón, he drinks alcohol and smokes but in moderation, the only exceptions are that he doesn't take drugs and is not as violent.

🎙Like Ramón, he is unaware of Eden's shameless acts.

🎙He SURE hasresorted to s3x to reduce his stress, satisfy his desires or make a deal with dirty money while doing this gesture:

The drawing belongs to @skronklpus

🎙Speaking of, always before starting the act, he always says "I hope you know how to please me correctly"

🎙He is usually a hypocrite with people, especially with "terrorists".

🎙He took over Ramón's apartment, first he cleaned it and remodeled it to his liking.

🎙His attitude in front of cameras divided the world, some see him as something with no importance, others feel intimidated by him and others don't give a shit about his existence.

🎙He's a tremendous motherfucker in every sense of the word (until now).

9/0ttis:

Let's start with 9:

🌱He lived in a serene town in Washington, but his town had a certain rivalry with Eden because of his regime. Eden bombed the town because they had the necessary resources to overthrow Eden.

🌱9 is friendly, gentle and loving, but is a bit reserved.

🌱He believes in second chances and that the third time is always the charm.

🌱7 is her love interest as is 5 (a polyamorous love to be exact).

🌱Never looks for or creates problems.

🌱He lived with 2 in a nice house in a small neighborhood.

🌱He is quite interested in agriculture, in fact, he had crops of various fruits in his backyard.

🌱He loves children, that's why he did babysitting shifts 3 times.

🌱After the bombing and losing 2, 3 and 4, and 8, 9 was left with an enormous trauma, months later, 9 was adopted by a hopelessly alcoholic man who didn't work and constantly physically abused him.

🌱As a result of this abuse, 9 developed dissociative personality disorder (or multiple personality disorder for easier) and that's how Ottis emerged.

Now Ottis:

🔥Ottis killed his adoptive "Father" as revenge for those abuses.

🔥Unlike 9, Ottis is aggressive, vengeful, violent and perhaps a little malevolent.

🔥He is overprotective with 9, he thinks that 9 is very vulnerable, so he always tries to prevent him from fronting for too long.

🔥Ottis fronts almost all the time.

🔥Ottis has attacked and killed people to protect himself and 9.

🔥He has serious anger problems, so he can barely control his emotions.

🔥Lets 9 front only if they need to shop.

🔥Despite having a bad temper, he has a soft side, especially with children, in fact, he did babysitting at least once.

🔥He is very good at choreographing, since he has a little more body energy than 9.

🔥He is a pro at mathematics, especially if it involves mental calculation.

🔥He lives his life swearing to himself to kill the precursor of the bombing (Rayman) and Eden's cronies.

Fact about both: They're both like a combination of Wanda Maximoff (Marvel) and Kevin Wendel Crumb (Sliver), so 9/Ottis' powers are ALMOST the same, except Ottis breathes fire.

5:

💊He is quite insecure and shy.

💊He rarely gets angry with people.

💊He is madly in love with 9.

💊He studied medicine and served to treat wounds and injuries in the Red Cross 3 times.

💊He, along with 7, was the only one who survived the bombing of his town.

💊He's been trying to find 9 for several months.

💊He used to leave letters in his mailbox for 9 telling him hints that he likes him.

💊He confessed to 9 in a small park.

💊He doesn't know how to lie.

💊BUT, he knows how to cook pretty well.

💊Today, he's a part-shift doctor, but 5 can also be a bastard.

💊If he feels threatened or insulted, he injects fenthalin into your food.

💊It's very sensitive.

💊He gets panic attacks when he gets frustrated or if he's very scared.

7:

🔪She is kind, but also very temperamental.

🔪7 had an easier time confessing her feelings to 9.

🔪She practiced self-defense for 2 years, but what she liked most was practicing the use of a saber.

🔪In reference to that, she has a katana.

🔪She has a tough character, but she's also sentimental.

🔪She doesn't know how to lie either XD.

🔪She is more likely to attack someone out of self-defense or in case someone bothers her.

🔪She doesn't know how to drive a car.

🔪She gets frustrated very easily if a situation gets complicated.

🔪She has a forceful explosive disorder.

Wally darling:

🍎He knows perfectly well about the Eden regime, so he infiltrated it and was hired to make a puppet show for children.

🍎Secretly, he plans to overthrow Eden.

🍎His reason? He knows that they send children to war and he wants to prevent it.

🍎He has a cult along with his other comrades, such as an Anti-Eden and Home cult.

🍎He has a look that penetrates the soul.

🍎His height remains the same as the canonical one, about 12 blocks high.

🍎He's surprisingly intimidating, despite his adorable appearance.

🍎Another canon thing that he will keep is that he eats with his eyes.

🍎This fact that is related to the previous one is that they can burst anything with their eyes apart from food, be it objects or even some part of your body.

🍎Although he lives in Eden, he lives almost on the outskirts of it with his group of friends.

🍎The DOES know how to lie.

🍎His attitude and monotonous voice usually make the people around him uncomfortable.

Pomni:

My reason why she is here is very stupid and I don't know why I find it so funny since I put Pomni just for this image:

This pic is so random but anyway, I use my strange imagination, but hey, let's continue:

-Just to be clear, that didn't happen, but for some reason it seemed like a good idea to include it with a traumatic context.

🎈Pomni has lived in Eden all her life.

🎈She watched the Rayman show when she was a kid, but she never became a "Rayman girl."

🎈By the time she became an adult, she worked for a circus, but her salary was low and she couldn't leave the place, also, the treatment towards her employees was shit, so Pomni hated that place and little by little she became crazy.

🎈She met Ragatha in that same circus and she was the only person he trusted.

🎈After a while, she became Ragatha's girlfriend.

🎈She doesn't like to be touched without her consent.

🎈The reason she became a fugitive is because she burned down the entire circus, and she and the other members separated to continue with their lives.

🎈She is very shy and paranoid, perhaps the paranoia is more notable since she is never off guard in case someone finds her and Ragatha.

🎈Use a giant mallet to defend herself.

🎈A canon fact that will remain is that she DOES NOT know how to cook.

🎈Pro in math x2.

🎈Another one who has no filter to speak.

🎈She likes seafood, especially salmon.

Ragatha:

The image is not mine.

❤Ragatha lived in Roanoke, Virginia since she was created, but later moved to Eden to look for a job.

❤She ended up working in the same circus as Pomni, that's where he met her and fell in love with her.

❤She participated in the circus fire and decided to make a life with Pomni.

❤A canon fact that will remain is that she's afraid of centipedes.

❤Ragatha is the only one who knows how to cook.

❤She hates drawing because she finds it complicated and tedious.

❤100% optimistic

❤She has a fantasy of riding a horse and riding through a quiet meadow outside of Eden's regime.

❤She's worried about Pomni's paranoia and always tells her that she shouldn't worry so much.

❤Another fact that will remain is that she plays the cello, that relaxes her.

❤Uses a butcher knife to defend herself.

So this is pt.1 AND for S1

See ya :)

[turanga4]

🐣 and ❤️ please and thank you?

D'awww thanks thanks for the ask! I'm hoping that talking a bit about my blorbos can perhaps lead me at some point to continue writing about blorbos.

Fanfic writer ask game here.

Gotta reach way back, actually for 🐣, as when I was very young, I enjoyed a tv show called Joan of Arcadia. Premise is that Joan is an ordinary 16 year old kid, to whom God chooses to appear, in the guises of different ordinary looking humans. Hilarity ensues, except also some pretty deep shit, as Joan is the daughter of a police chief who experiences the darkest human things on the daily, her brother was recently rendered a paraplegic, and eventually her mother discloses she was raped. There's a lot of interesting push-pull between Joan and the God figure(s) in terms of "I need you, Joan, to do this small thing in this way"/ "Um, you're the Supreme Being, why can't you fix my brother?" I wasn't satisfied with them not having a scene where Joan confronts God about her mother's experience, so...I wrote one.

First HP fanfic was similarly an offscreen conversation; I took a stab at actually writing the conversation glossed over at the end of Goblet of Fire, where narrator Harry is like, "so, Harry told Dumbledore all of the things that happened in the graveyard," because I didn't feel like the source material really explored the different dynamics that would have been in play.

Both items are thankfully buried forever somewhere in ff.net, and let us never outside this ask speak of them again.

❤️ a fic I've written with a special place in my heart. Hmm....honestly I love all of my tiny weird children, and it's hard to choose between 88 one shots. But, I really enjoyed writing Accidental Magic--it came pretty naturally to me, and specifically, it came most naturally to me when I did a thing I've learned to embrace doing, which is to say "f@ck the initial prompt or more popular way of doing this story, I think I want to go a different direction." (The prompt word was "pivot" and I initially tried and failed to write a love story.). I was so delighted by the positive responses people had to it, it was the first fan fic piece I felt good enough about to share and promote outside the confines of the writing comp that was my entry point into HP fan fic, and reading it again, I *still* like it, which is nice.

[chrysoula]

Classroom of the Elite

(Note: I have read up to Y2v6 (I'll probably read v7 tomorrow once my housemate finishes it) as well as a summary of the Y0 bonus book.) I really like this series. I think the author is skilled, intelligent and literate. I also think he's writing way above the level of his primary readerbase. Or at least, that's the conclusion I am drawing from going through the subreddit. Maybe it's just reddit, though. Why do I like it so much? I have friends who bounced hard off it because the narrator is such an overpowered isekai protagonist (although it's only an isekai metaphorically). He's pretty much superhuman in most ways. But that's never been the sort of thing to drive me off, as long as there's more going on than a power fantasy. I watched episode 4 of Solo Leveling yesterday and it bored me to tears. I kept comparing it to early Danmachi and early Kumo Desu, both of which had me deeply invested in their boss fights. And this is because Kumoko was being clever and fighting above her weight class (and got the shit kicked out of her). And Bell, while a lot less clever, had emotional growth worked into his minotaur fights just like a proper shonen protagonist. Meanwhile the protagonist of Solo Leveling started out interesting and sympathetic and clever but could not make me give a shit about his totally optional battle with a giant snake.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka is OP by any measure. But that's the point of the story. He starts out OP, and also 'defective'. He's not a hero. I'm not even sure he's a protagonist. He seems to see himself as the antagonist; he's training Horikita and her class up to be the protagonists. He's clever and manipulative and impossibly badass physically, and his personal development over time is obscured by being an unreliable narrator, but there are bits and pieces that add up over the 20+ volumes I've read that make him just as fascinating a character as the students he's helping 'grow'. One of my enduring interests is exploring how human nature works, and from the beginning that's been the point of the story. Kiyotaka has repeatedly referred to the paradox of his goals at the school. He wants something he doesn't entirely believe he can get, and he's striving for it as hard as he can. It's just that his goal isn't 'saving his sister' or 'defeating the demon lord' or whatever, it's 'being defeated in such a way as to prove his father wrong'. That's really compelling to me! Especially when combined with his own character growth. Over on reddit, people say things like, "Why would Ayanogod lie to the readers, that'd be lying to himself, people can't lie to themselves..." which, I mean, that's a very... young point of view. Which is why I'm ranting to the void here rather than trying to find thoughtful discussion there...

What I've been noticing a couple times in the last few books is Ayanokoji noting that he doesn't have the social skills of the far more socially deft students _right now_. Because he didn't construct a socially deft persona; he constructed an Ordinary High School Dweeb persona. The obvious implication is that he _could_ be anybody he wants, with some prep time. He might not start out good at it--he has never been good at emoting even when he seems to think he is--but he'll keep learning until he is. This isn't interesting to me because 'oooh ayanogod is so cool' but because it suggests his own sense of identity is pretty flimsy. And the edges and fragments where he's slowly developing an identity are just... peak coming of age story, and his particular degree of OPness is just... keeping things interesting. In y2v6 I noticed his interactions with Mii-chan a lot. At one point, when Mii-chan doesn't need any more than a slight push to work through all her issues (and this is without heavy interference from Ayanokoji). He describes her as a 'almost a fully complete person'. I think Kiyotaka (yes, also Ayanokoji, I switch between his names by vibe) would be the first to admit that he's a deeply flawed and incomplete person as he is. And that's great! That's awesome! That is what I want to see as an enjoyer of OP characters. Being able to punch out Cthulhu isn't the be-all and end-all of personhood! (I am also a fan of Nobilis and Reinhard van Astrea.) I have no destination with this post. I just wanted to babble. If you came here via the tag and find what I have to say interesting, let me know and I'll say more of it!

[nwodsecondchances2e]

Stigmatic Herald (Demon-Beast Crossover)

Andrew Miller has seen a lot of shit after over three decades of life as a stigmatic. He’s met most of the other things lurking in London’s shadows, been a part of nearly a dozen cults, murdered Unchained, fought alongside Agencies he’d previously tried to kill and made a name for himself among mortal occultists who have no idea what else is out there. He has one unshakable belief that guides everything he does: the conviction that the God-Machine is broken.

Andrew’s first encounter with the supernatural had actually been with the Begotten, although exposure to the God-Machine’s gears is what ensured his life would never be normal. As far as Andrew figures, there isn’t a good reason for demons and angels to be so antithetical to Beasts. They are both occult forces, and while grounded in different principles, Andrew ultimately believes in a unified reality. His hypothesis is that the God-Machine is out of sync with the rest of the occult universe, which is why Beasts react poorly to it and is the cause for its seemingly contradictory directives. It has taken years of preparation, but he feels he is finally in a position to do something about it. 

Andrew wormed his way into the good graces of Ida Max, an Inguma Tyrant whose Horror reflected the fear of impossibly human-like machines. Andrew pushed Ida towards expanding her Lair and Legend in ways reflecting technology and machinery. While Ida couldn't develop Family Ties with the Unchained or the God-Machine’s angels, Andrew helped her forge bonds with other stigmatics, psychics, and stranger beings touched by the God-Machine. When Ida created her cult, Andrew became her Herald and began executing his plan. While Ida is more physically powerful than Andrew, he knows how to run a cult while making her feel like she is in control. 

Now, Andrew is in the final phases of his plan. He’s started pushing Ida towards Inheritance, and while he’d prefer she become an Incarnate, an Unfettered or Rampart would also serve his purposes. As much as Andrew genuinely appreciates Ida, she has always been a means to an end for him. If he must sacrifice her to heal God, so be it. 

If Andrew could still pass as an ordinary human, he’d look plain. Messy black hair, a body that’s gone slightly to seed, and a face that refuses to stand out all help blend in with a crowd. They also disguise his powerful, magnetic personality. When Andrew talks, he makes you believe whatever he is saying, regardless of how far-fetched it sounds. Between his stigmata and Ida’s influence over her Herald, Andrew lands solidly within the uncanny valley these days. His skin is slightly matte and rubbery, giving those who look at it the impression it is synthetic rather than organic. The veins under his skin are silvery rather than blue, appearing far more like circuitry than a circulatory system. His voice is distorted and synthetic like it is coming through a bad radio or an autotuner that’s gone too far. 

Legend: Relentless Life: Selfless Aspirations: Recruit new cultists, Convince Ida to undergo Inheritance, Fix the God-Machine Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 3; Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2; Presence 4, Manipulation 5, Composure 2 Skills: Academics 1 (Religion), Computers 4, Crafts 4, Occult 3 (Cults), Politics 2, Science 2; Drive 2, Firearms 2, Larceny 1; Empathy 3 (Emotional Weaknesses), Intimidation 1, Persuasion 4, Socialize 2, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 5  Merits: Anonymity 1, Aura Reading, Eidetic Memory (Advanced), Fast Reflexes 3 (Advanced), Omen Sensitivity, Unseen Sense (God-Machine), Unseen Sense (Primordial Dream) Health: 7 Willpower: 5 Integrity: 4 Size: 5 Speed: 9 Defence: 2 Initiative: +7 (include Fast Reflexes)

[kendrixtermina]

Our Governments are not representative of us, nor of our cultures.

The Nation-State was probably the single worst idea in all of humanity, and both the current conflict & the discourse around it really shows why

Before they came up with that in the 19th century, people may have identified themselves with their language, religion, culture or attachment to the region, but not by a "nation" of people thought to have shared traits. At the time of the French revolution, most people in France didn't speak French, and in 1900 some ppl in sicily had no idea what "Italy" is.

A while ago ppl were surprised about a farmer on TV who said he doesn't particularly care if his town is in "Russia" or "Ukraine" he just wants to live there in peace. But until 200 years ago or so, that is how most people thought of home.

Certainly basic xenophobia, tribalism & fear of the other existed before, there were, after all, persecutions in the middle ages. But the construct of nation has nonetheless made conflicts massively worse & more deadly.

It's based on an Illusion

There is this idea that peoples have always existed as some unchanging, unmingling "pure" group on one piece of land that is tainted or adulterated by contact with others.

Even on the left some ppl just uncritically accept this notion (see much of the discourse about 'cultural appropriation')

That was just never true - people have always been copying each other, migrating, trading, interacting etc. often new cultures arose or peoples changed where they lived; Borders shifted over time. And of course, culture evolved over time.

When people think that a state that is an illusion is what naturally should be, and try to adjust reality to the fake model in their head, ugly things happen.

Homogenous groups on a fixed patch of land are not the reality of how cultures work, but if ppl think they are, they enact violence to artificially create those homogenous patches neatly delineated by lines. You get silly disputes about "who was there first", expulsion of minorities and conflicts when people try drawing lines in areas with mixed populations.

The Nazis, the Balkan wars & Israel represent the peak excesses of the madness that can lead to. (and note that 20 years or so after the Nazis fell, tons of immigrants moved into Germany & the artificial homogenity collapsed again, because it's just not natural. Israel will never suceed at their homogenous country either.)

It leads to generalization

There's a really shitty trope in european newspapers sometimes that has much been criticised.

If the article says "Guy robs bank" then people will think he's a bad guy.

If the article says "Turkish guy robs bank" it will get ppl frothing about how immigrants are bad guys. In case of the non-immigrant robber, they don't even bother to write "German guy robbs bank"

That's how you see these shitty responses that when there's a war, random ppl from the involved countries get attacked. China does shit & ppl bother random Chinese.

With the current war, jews & arabs around the world are being harassed.

What can some ordinary shopkeeper Yacob Shmitz in New York do about Netanyahu? What does Khalil Mansoor in Berlin got to do with October 7th? Nothing at all.

This leads ppl to completely overlook all context to look at some ppl as always being victims or perps or otherwise all the same, regardless of context. For example I once heard an Indian acquaintance raving about "the muslims" & how they "want everything" & making wild conflations. A Palestinian living in Al-Quds/Jerusalem wants it probably because he lives there & probably doesn't even know about the contentious site in India, and he was treating as the same people that are wildly different: Powerful elites in Saudi Arabia & persecuted minorities in India & Palestine, arabs in the ME and southeast asians in Pakistan.

Later he went to a Pakistan-themes party & was surprised to wind that culturally they got more in common wit him than arabs despite the different religions. They liked similar music, food & sports.

Or people today feeling guilty & ashamed now for what the Nazis did. Did you, personally, throw people in gas chambers? No? Then what shame is it of yours? Everyone who did it is dead & buried & being roasted in hell if it exists.

To me, this completely destroys the very system of morality. Morality only makes sense if a person can only be blamed or held responsible for what they can personally influence & change. If you're deemed "bad" based on things you can't control, what's the incentive of being good?

Or, you can't criticize some countries cause people take it personally - it's an insult to their identity, their whole culture... which brings me to the next & imho main point.

It conflates people, culture & government

A wise guy in Iran once said that "the difference between you & me is much smaller than you & your government, and our governments are much the same". I wish more ppl listened to him.

There have been greedy leaders looking to enrich themselves pretty much since they invented agriculture. but they spoke for themselves or their supporters.

With Nation-States, it gets assumed that the government speaks not only for the people, but that is somehow represents their values & culture.

All this political & war propaganda isn't really what culture is. Culture is conventions and books and food and little stories and sayings and values that give things meaning. But when someone says "fuck the Muslims/USA/jews/Germans" etc the other side feels like the actual culture, the small & beautiful & meaningful & enlightened things are what's being attacked. Because it's conflated.

Leaders will of course claim to justiy their actions by whatever values are popular with their subjects, but that doesn't mean they actually represent those values.

Look at your own leaders: How much do they support the values you believe in? How much do they do lip-service to that culture without really living up to it?

So you get ppl seeing governments do shit & thinking "fuck all those jews/americans/westerners, they must be demons" and Israelis killing all the ppl in Gaza because of "Hamas".

It's that same logical leap of not just leaders = people, but leaders = culture & values.

Now leaders of course have coalitions of supporters whether it's a bunch of oligarch or a popular movement - active supporters are 100% on the hook for what the government does. The mocking song singers are to blame for Netanyahu & the red hat guys for Trump, and Biden... I mean, it's probably the DNC & some political establishment ppl who wanted him cause no one else really did.

But political coalitions =/= all the people =/= all the "culture".

The evil acts of government are usually the products of greedy leaders and a coalition of supporters, not whole populations or cultures.

The difference between people & political establishment has never been more obvious than now

Case in point: Mainstream news outlets are struggling to explain away why there is 15 times more pro-palestine content being posted on the internet, some getting conspiratorial or frantically attributing it to "iran propaganda", but the true reason is that, as surveys also show, no one outside of Israel wants this fucking war but a few old men with imperialist ambitions & weapons companies.

much of it is ignorance, inertia, & propaganda calculated to work on influential because because theyre influential & fear looking bad.

our cultures may differ but very few cultures would last long if they condoned this kinda shit. Different cultures may give different reasons & many have their flaws of bothersome elements, but i dare say most would on average come down on rejecting this.

Let's not believe the lie that being for this is based on any kind of values, not western ones or any other. They might say it is to sell their bullshit but it's just liars & cowards adapting their lies to the audience.